My husband and I made our first trip to Israel in 1955, because going to Israel was my husband’s greatest dream. We spent very nice days with my cousin Beki there. That trip was like an adaptation of Ortakoy life in Israel to me. My cousin Beki went on with her knitting. But this time it was really to support the family budget. Beki would usually make borekas and cakes at home, because the pastry business wasn’t that advanced during those years in Israel, and she also wanted to earn some extra money. Her husband Mishel and my husband got along very well. They introduced us to their friends. We witnessed for the first time how the soil was made fertile.
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Lina Franko
My husband’s family, was affected by the Wealth Tax [16], as much as they were affected by the 1934 events. Yomtov Franko, my father-in-law, paid his Wealth Tax with a lot of hardships. After the financial blow during the Thrace events, he experienced another financial blow. He paid a fortune in order not to go to Askale. [a small town in the north-east of Turkey, where the forced labor camps were for people who did not/could not pay the wealth tax] On the other hand, my father had the advantage of working at a bank, and so he got away with a much lower Wealth Tax. The bank undertook to pay the amount for which he was liable.
Our house was not that hot, because it was heated with a stove. We had to keep an eye on the stove. We would only use the big living room when we had guests, and sit in the smaller living room otherwise. Once I told to my son to keep an eye on the stove, because we were expecting guests. He put a lot of wood into the stove. When we arrived home, we saw that we were lucky not to have had a fire. We had great difficulty in putting out the stove. My husband took the ashes out. The house became both cold and dirty. This was extra work for us. In the following years, we moved into a flat with central heating in Nishantash.
The couple, Yair and Mari Mizrahi, had only one child, whose name was Lina Mizrahi. She was the young Lina, and I was the older one when we talked among ourselves. The Mizrahi family was a quiet family. We, on the other hand, were crowded. Young Lina would always come over to our house. She would also get my father to do her homework as I did during my childhood years. We would dine together during the Jewish festivals, and go out together during the Muslim festivals. My husband first invited the Mizrahi family out when he bought his car. Owning a car was a privilege then. The ones who bought a car would invite the family members out one by one. There was also an excitement in our family when Lina Mizrahi got married. After all, we were from the same apartment.
My mother and father did not want to live in Ortakoy anymore. Ortakoy had started to become an outmoded neighborhood. The rich families had started moving to Sisli, and Nisantas. The year was 1953. My mother and father sold the three houses which they owned. The shares of the siblings who lived in Paris and Israel were sent to them, because the house actually belonged to my grandmother. My husband proposed to rent a house in Nisantas with my mother and father. Everybody was pleased with this situation. Living in a single house would actually be more economical. My mother helped me with the raising of my children. My mother and I would put the money needed for the kitchen expenses in a purse. Everybody who bought something for the house would get his allowance from my mother. My mother was in charge of this purse, from which all the expenses were paid. My husband wouldn’t take extra money for the things he bought for the house, since we had children, and the old people did not eat so much. He would bring fruit home everynight from the street fruitsellers. He sometimes brought home ‚kasher‘ cheese, which was sold by the merchants coming from Anatolia. [‚Kasher‘ meaning Kosher, it refers to a specific brand of yellow cheese, produced by the Sephardim and was popular among both Jews and non-Jews.] My mother would immediately make borekas [Sephardic pastry filled with different kinds of fillings, either sweet or salty, like cheese, eggplants, potatoes or walnuts] and boyos [Sephardic pastry made of flour, oil and cheese] from that “kasher” cheese. My father on the other hand, would also sometimes want to buy things from the stallholders, but would usually get cheated because he was sick. And my mother would get angry at my father. I was very upset by these scenes. It was obvious that my father’s intention was good.
I would go to Beyoglu with my mother to buy the glassware we needed at home when some money was left in the purse from which our monthly expenses were paid. We especially couldn’t resist the crystal items. We would also go into the cloth shops to buy cloth to be made up by our dressmaker Diamante, who came to our house each season for a whole day of sewing. The day our dressmaker came was almost like a party day. Our neighbors would also come and help, and we would prepare special menus for that day. If the dressmaker was skilled enough, she would even sew more than the number of dresses she first promised. My mother would always keep extra material for a skirt at hand. “Diamante me vas a kuzir i una fustika”[Ladino for “Diamante, you will sew me sew one more skirt, OK?”] “Si madam Fortune, si me ayudash un poko, deke no” [“Of course madam Fortune, why not if you help me a little bit”]. We would understand that the dressmaker needed little bit help from these conversations. We had neighbors who were like siblings. They would come to help. We felt more close to our neighbors than our siblings.
I would go to Beyoglu with my mother to buy the glassware we needed at home when some money was left in the purse from which our monthly expenses were paid. We especially couldn’t resist the crystal items. We would also go into the cloth shops to buy cloth to be made up by our dressmaker Diamante, who came to our house each season for a whole day of sewing. The day our dressmaker came was almost like a party day. Our neighbors would also come and help, and we would prepare special menus for that day. If the dressmaker was skilled enough, she would even sew more than the number of dresses she first promised. My mother would always keep extra material for a skirt at hand. “Diamante me vas a kuzir i una fustika”[Ladino for “Diamante, you will sew me sew one more skirt, OK?”] “Si madam Fortune, si me ayudash un poko, deke no” [“Of course madam Fortune, why not if you help me a little bit”]. We would understand that the dressmaker needed little bit help from these conversations. We had neighbors who were like siblings. They would come to help. We felt more close to our neighbors than our siblings.
My husband, Isak Franko, started his business life by doing the work he took over from his father. Isak Franko acted in an amateur theatre group which he and his friends had formed at the age of 18, on Heybeliada [one of the islands in the Marmara Sea, which are called The Princess Islands.] I was 8 years old then and would sing songs during the intervals, or between acts to enable the actors to change their costumes. After seeing each other for the first time, my husband always joked saying “I picked you up the first time I saw you, but waited for you to grow up”. Only, after 8 years from this first meeting, Heskiya Hatem and Soli Hatem, [my husband’s friends and at the same time distant relatives of my grandmother from her father’s side] introduced us to each other again. We came together one New Year’s Eve and went to the cinema the following day. Isak Franko announced his intention of marrying me through our common friends. When my family told me that there was someone who wanted to marry me, I said if it was Isak Franko, then I would agree. The news spread out fast in Ortakoy. Isak Franko came to us with his mother and brought us a box of candies. The permission for my marriage was given in the month of June of the year 1947. During those days the man’s family would bring candies in a silver bowl to the girl’s family when they went to visit them for the first time for the engagement. This was the custom, then. The size of the silver bowl, its hallmark and ornamentation and its karats (800 or 900 for silver) would indicate the refinement and wealth of the family who had brought it. That day they didn’t bring me a silver bowl. They brought us a box of candies from an ordinary pastry shop. I joked about this ironically for many years. Later on, I bought a lot of silverware for my house. I felt happy with the box of candies because his mother was unfashionable, and uneducated, and there was no one to show her the way to behave. I feel angry today when I see the young girls and boys who want everything complete from the first day. I try to explain that things earned slowly give much more pleasure.
I remember a very happy atmosphere when it comes to my wedding memories. We got married at the Zulfaris Synagogue, which is used as a museum today, [15] on the 6th of June in 1948. This synagogue had a positive feature for the wedding ceremonies. It was regarded as good luck for the brides to climb up the stairs till they reached the tevah. There is a staircase with 15-20 steps at the entrance of the Zulfaris Synagogue. All the girls who were single at that moment, my cousins, my friends from the neighborhood, all wrote their names on the soles of my shoes. [There was a belief that to write one’s name on the sole of a bride’s shoe would cause a single girl to get married] My friends refreshed my make-up. (In those times there were no professional make-up people to come and make up the bride and her fiamily like ther is today.) Actually, they were watching me with a little bit of envy. Though I was the youngest one among the cousins I was the one who got married the earliest. I was 18 years old. I had rented both my wedding dress and the veil, but I had had my veil made according to my taste. Our wedding was quite a modest ceremony, but all of our crowded family members, and all of Ortakoy was there. After all the bride was from Ortakoy. My bridal veil got ripped by a cat the day following the wedding. Consequently, we had to buy it. We went to Yalova [a city near Istanbul, which is famous for its spas] for our honeymoon. We shared the first house we rented with my mother-in-law. But I would always go to my mother’s house, which was in Ortakoy. My husband would also feel happier there. So he would escape from his mother’s authority and ignorance a little bit. My brother-in-law, Hayim, was faced with the same problem of finding a house for rent when he got married. We started living in the same house with my sister-in-law, Viktuar. We got along like sisters. We would play bezique, after having finished our household chores. Our most favorite dish, was a kind of salted fish called “liparidas” then. My sister-in-law would go out to buy liparidas, while I would stay at home. Then we would eat them. One day we must have eaten too much, because we both got urticaria. My sister-in-law, who had a more allergic constitution, couldn’t stop itching for a long time. We both didn’t eat liparidas again. My mother-in-law, on the other hand, died in Septemper 1952.
I remember a very happy atmosphere when it comes to my wedding memories. We got married at the Zulfaris Synagogue, which is used as a museum today, [15] on the 6th of June in 1948. This synagogue had a positive feature for the wedding ceremonies. It was regarded as good luck for the brides to climb up the stairs till they reached the tevah. There is a staircase with 15-20 steps at the entrance of the Zulfaris Synagogue. All the girls who were single at that moment, my cousins, my friends from the neighborhood, all wrote their names on the soles of my shoes. [There was a belief that to write one’s name on the sole of a bride’s shoe would cause a single girl to get married] My friends refreshed my make-up. (In those times there were no professional make-up people to come and make up the bride and her fiamily like ther is today.) Actually, they were watching me with a little bit of envy. Though I was the youngest one among the cousins I was the one who got married the earliest. I was 18 years old. I had rented both my wedding dress and the veil, but I had had my veil made according to my taste. Our wedding was quite a modest ceremony, but all of our crowded family members, and all of Ortakoy was there. After all the bride was from Ortakoy. My bridal veil got ripped by a cat the day following the wedding. Consequently, we had to buy it. We went to Yalova [a city near Istanbul, which is famous for its spas] for our honeymoon. We shared the first house we rented with my mother-in-law. But I would always go to my mother’s house, which was in Ortakoy. My husband would also feel happier there. So he would escape from his mother’s authority and ignorance a little bit. My brother-in-law, Hayim, was faced with the same problem of finding a house for rent when he got married. We started living in the same house with my sister-in-law, Viktuar. We got along like sisters. We would play bezique, after having finished our household chores. Our most favorite dish, was a kind of salted fish called “liparidas” then. My sister-in-law would go out to buy liparidas, while I would stay at home. Then we would eat them. One day we must have eaten too much, because we both got urticaria. My sister-in-law, who had a more allergic constitution, couldn’t stop itching for a long time. We both didn’t eat liparidas again. My mother-in-law, on the other hand, died in Septemper 1952.
My husband Isak Franko had two siblings. Roza was born in the year of 1922. She was very fond of reading. She started going to English High School for Girls [14], after coming from Kırklareli. Her mother Franka Franko would turn off the light in her bedroom at night and say “Ogretmena te vas azer, kualo es” meaning “are you going to become a teacher or what?”. She was a very bright girl. Her first marriage was to Shapat Ozcakır at the age of 18, and had two children, Fifi and Baruh. Fifi lives in Istanbul, while Baruh “Otzkın” in Israel. The surname “Ozcakır” became modified to Otzkin to conform with the rules of grammar and pronunciation in Israel. Fifi Ozcakır, my husband’s niece reached marriageable age 8 years after losing her father, Shapat Ozcakır from kidney failure in 1955. The responsibility for “Tallet” [In Sephardi tradition chuppah is actually a tallit held at each corner by one of the four parents of the bride and the groom over their heads.] was given to my husband, who was the eldest sibling. And I went to one of the most famous dressmakers of the time and had an embroidered brocade dress made. This dressmaker was our neighbor, and was the mother of Filiz Akın, who was one of the most famous actresses of the time. Six months before the wedding, someone also wanted to marry to Fifi’s mother, my husband’s sister. Bohor Alev was a well-liked merchant. I entered the synagogue on my son’s arm, Fifi on my husband’s, and Roza, on her new husband’s. Roza’s husband wasn’t present at the tallet ceremony, but joined us later on for the congratulations. Roza was married to Bohor Alev for 36 years, and my niece always felt guilty for not having given the responsibility for the tallet to Bohor Alev. He was engaged in the stationary business. He brought packages of notebooks to my daughter, when he came to us the first time for dinner. My daughter was very young then, and felt very happy to get so many notebooks.
My husband’s brother, Hayim Franko was a reckless young man. He was late to his military class one day during his last year at the Austrian High School [an Austrian missionary school subsidized by the Austrian government]. When his teacher asked him to salute, he refused. His teacher told him, that he would register his behavior into his records. Hayim Franko later on started studying medicine after graduating from high school. Later on, he decided to use his right to serve in the military as an officer, and therefore postponed his education. This right was given to high school graduates only. But his military teacher had done what he told him and marked his childish behavior in his records. Hayim Franko had to serve as a soldier, which was longer in his military service. In this way, he failed to complete his medical studies, and went into business with his elder brother and father. Later on he married Viktuar Abeni. Their first child, Frida died from leukemia at the age of 6, and said farewell to life in a short period of time. We learned about her disease after a continuous sore throat which wouldn’t heal. It was a kind of cancer which spread very fast, and the little girl died within a period like 11 months. My sister-in-law, Viktuar Franko, never pronouncedher daughter’s name again throughout her life. She only went to the cemetry with me once a year. She would cry that day there and would carry her sadness only in her heart the other 364 days. There is still a porcelain trinket of a girl over Viktuar Franko’s bed. One must know my sister-in-law very well to interpret this. If she wants definitely to indicate a date or an event, then she would say “el anyo del malor” meaning the “year of the disaster”. The couple, Hayim and Viktuar, later on had two sons named Tovi and Cuda.
My husband’s brother, Hayim Franko was a reckless young man. He was late to his military class one day during his last year at the Austrian High School [an Austrian missionary school subsidized by the Austrian government]. When his teacher asked him to salute, he refused. His teacher told him, that he would register his behavior into his records. Hayim Franko later on started studying medicine after graduating from high school. Later on, he decided to use his right to serve in the military as an officer, and therefore postponed his education. This right was given to high school graduates only. But his military teacher had done what he told him and marked his childish behavior in his records. Hayim Franko had to serve as a soldier, which was longer in his military service. In this way, he failed to complete his medical studies, and went into business with his elder brother and father. Later on he married Viktuar Abeni. Their first child, Frida died from leukemia at the age of 6, and said farewell to life in a short period of time. We learned about her disease after a continuous sore throat which wouldn’t heal. It was a kind of cancer which spread very fast, and the little girl died within a period like 11 months. My sister-in-law, Viktuar Franko, never pronouncedher daughter’s name again throughout her life. She only went to the cemetry with me once a year. She would cry that day there and would carry her sadness only in her heart the other 364 days. There is still a porcelain trinket of a girl over Viktuar Franko’s bed. One must know my sister-in-law very well to interpret this. If she wants definitely to indicate a date or an event, then she would say “el anyo del malor” meaning the “year of the disaster”. The couple, Hayim and Viktuar, later on had two sons named Tovi and Cuda.
, Türkiye
Isak Franko, was born in Kırklareli in 1919. [Thrace, European Turkey] His mother, Franka Franko wasn’t a well-educated lady. She could even have been considered as semi-literate. Though she herself claimed to know how to read and write, I never remember her reading a newspaper. His father, Yomtov Franko, on the other hand was engaged in the leather trade. They were a family who had been affected by the events which took place in 1934 in Thrace. Jewish families’ houses and work places were looted during these Thrace events [13]. They moved to Istanbul overnight leaving all of their possesions behind. The Jews, who had come to Istanbul the night the Thrace events took place were either placed at a hotel by the community, or they stayed over at their relatives’ homes. They went back to Kırklareli to close up their homes and work places after the events had cooled down. But of course, they experienced great financial loss during these times.
I first rode in a taxi on a rainy day and told this to my friends immediately the following day. Rain meant mud during those days, because the roads were in quite a poor condition. At that time we couldn’t imagine the asphalt roads of the later years. Some of the house fronts are being cobbled today in order to give them a nostalgic look. Getting on a train was a totally different story. It seemed like a very long journey, when we got on the road to go to Yakacık. [a neighborhood on the hilly parts of the Asian side]. We would first go from Ortakoy to Besiktas [a neighborhood on the European side], than from Besiktas to Uskudar [a neighborhood on the Asian side in Istanbul], and than from Uskudar to Haydarpasha. There, we would get on the train, heading to Kartal [a suburb on the Asian side], and finally reach Yakacık. We would go to Yakacık to spend the weekend. Yakacık was famous for its tea gardens, fresh air, and spring water. People would go there with big jars, fill them with spring water, and take them to their homes. Swings were already set up in these vast green fields by the time we reached there, and whistles made of ceramic, called “kantariko” were sold. I would buy from these ceramic whistles every time we went there, and break it the following day. Yakacık’s paper kebab was famous. Paper Kebab is a kind of dish where the food, basically meat, is cooked either in greaseproof paper or in terracotta pots. Small pieces of meat and various vegetables, made up this kebab. There was also a sanatorium which we prefered to stay away from. The sanatorium was a hospital in which patients with tuberculosis were treated. It was thought, because tuberculosis was an infectious disease, germs would be found near the hospital. Sterilization was far from today’s standards. In the following years, as the roads were constructed we started going to Yakacık in the mornings and returning home in the evenings. We would take stuffed peppers, meat balls, and boreks [pastry filled with either cheese or ground meat] from home to the picnics. We would divide the work to be done among the friends. Everybody would cook something, and large tables were laden and set. “Raki keyfi” was the name given to eating and having nice conversations at these laden tables. [Turkish term meaning relaxing meal with raki and mezes that usually goes on for hours.
, Türkiye
My family didn’t travel much. We would go to the cinema once a week, and visit my mother’s sisters, who lived in Tunel, once every 15 days. [a popular neighborhood in which the Jews lived] The way back home from Tunel was like a journey, during those days. Because my father liked walking very much, we would walk the distance between Tunel and Taksim [a central neighborhood], and Taksim and Dolmabahce [a neighborhood along the European side of the Bosphorus], and reach Ortakoy, by tram or bus.The distance between Tunel and Taksim, was the region where the most glamorous shops, the best restaurants, the passegeways, and the cinemas were located. The most luxurious goods were sold at the shops in these passegeways. Most of the shop owners were Levantines.[12] The ladies would definitely go around wearing a hat in this region called Pera. We wore special hats when we went to the cinemas. We used them as accessories, not for keeping our heads warm. One of the most famous restaurants of Pera was “Regence”, which was run by Russian ladies. The most famous dish of the restaurant was Borscht. The women who did the service would carry on with their own traditions by wearing long, and embroidered dresses. The most famous “patisseries” [bakery] of Pera, were the “Markiz” and “Lebon”. Also, the “Inci patisserie”, was famous for its “profiterol”. As Dolmabahce was situated by the sea it was a pleasure to walk down the slope from Taksim to Dolmabahce and enjoy the sea view.
During the summer days, I would go on a ferry with my mother from Ortakoy. The ferries were the most important means of transportation, which were in use between the two sides of the Bosphorus. We would go to Bebek [a neighborhood on the European side, near Ortakoy] to meet my father, who would be coming home from work. Sometimes we ate a sandwich in the tea garden, and sometimes fish at the fish restaurant. It always gave me pain to witness my father’s movements getting restricted after he was diagnosed with the Parkinson disease.
During the summer days, I would go on a ferry with my mother from Ortakoy. The ferries were the most important means of transportation, which were in use between the two sides of the Bosphorus. We would go to Bebek [a neighborhood on the European side, near Ortakoy] to meet my father, who would be coming home from work. Sometimes we ate a sandwich in the tea garden, and sometimes fish at the fish restaurant. It always gave me pain to witness my father’s movements getting restricted after he was diagnosed with the Parkinson disease.
, Türkiye
I remember the bread given out by ration, duringWorld War II. The ration was a document given out by the headman during World War II. Due to scarcity, main items like sugar, salt, bread, oil, and rice were given in amounts allocated to each family. And getting these items was only possible by showing the documents, called ration. We used up all our coupons. I was always the one to get into line to receive our share, because my grandmother was too old, and my mother a little too proud to line up. We used to save the bread which we got during Pesah, too. We would place it out on the balcony, because keeping it at home wasn’t the right thing to do. We were afraid that we wouldn’t be able to find bread afterwards, so we saved it in as religious a way as we could. I also remember that some of the very poor families would sell their rations or goods in the blackmarket to earn some money.
We would go out into the garden from the ground floor of the house we lived in. My father, Josef Baruh took care of the soil, and planted flowers and vegetables. My father used to hoe the soil in order to receive better output, with the climate changing every season. He had to use mattock and shovel during his military service in the 20 military reserve classes [11]. I can’t forget the words he said during the night he was called drafted, which were “I don’t want to see this night end”. My father did his military service in a district of Balıkesir, named Sındırgı. Sındırgı is sorrounded with mountains, and a dry, land climate prevails there. I wanted to give him a hug when he came back after eight months, but Iwasn’t allowed. First, he had to take off all of his clothes, and go to the hamam, because he had got infested with lice in that place he was doing his military service.
Speaking of the garden, I can also say that my friends also used to come to spend time in this small garden. We would water the pots and feel happy as shoots appeared through the soil. On the other hand, my daughter has two memories in relation to this. When my daughter got married, we wanted a flower called the “bride flower” for her, which was a special aromatic kind of flower. My father had found the name of the flowers immediately. He said: “ce sont de tubereuses” meaning “they are tuberoses”. Indeed, the tuberose wasn’t the kind of flower that was known very much, but my father had known it at once. Our second memory is related to my father’s death. My father died in the middle of winter, and flowers appeared on one of the plants in the garden, which hadn’t flowered for two years!
Speaking of the garden, I can also say that my friends also used to come to spend time in this small garden. We would water the pots and feel happy as shoots appeared through the soil. On the other hand, my daughter has two memories in relation to this. When my daughter got married, we wanted a flower called the “bride flower” for her, which was a special aromatic kind of flower. My father had found the name of the flowers immediately. He said: “ce sont de tubereuses” meaning “they are tuberoses”. Indeed, the tuberose wasn’t the kind of flower that was known very much, but my father had known it at once. Our second memory is related to my father’s death. My father died in the middle of winter, and flowers appeared on one of the plants in the garden, which hadn’t flowered for two years!
Our Turkish bath sessions were another story. We went to the “hamam” [turkish bath] once a month, for sure. But we never carried the hamam bag ourselves. The hamam bag was sent to the hamam the day before and was brought home by the “tellaks”, [bath attendants] afterwards. I have a memory related to this issue. One day, they took my cousin Erol, who had come from Ankara, to the hamam. My cousin looked at the hamam with eyes full of surprise and said:“How big my grandmother’s bathroom is!
, Türkiye
The sweaters which we knitted one winter were quite liked, and then we received orders from our neighbors. The three of us got together and completed the orders. And of course, we were paid in return. My mother was not happy about taking money and she distributed all of it to the poor. At that time, knitting for money wasn’t acceptable behavior.
, Türkiye
My father wasn’t religious. He would only go to the synagogue during the festivals and would not especially chant morning or Shabat prayers. The religious one was my grandmother Rashel Baruh. The festival she liked most was Pesah. Loksa was taken out during the Pesah Festival. I was asked to prepare the sugar, the salt, and the meat. The meat mills came out and all this was a very hard job. (These were hand grinders. The sugar and salt came as blocks, while meat came in large pieces. We crushed the salt and the sugar separately with knives. And we minced the meat. This process was done during Pesah time so that the salt, sugar and meat would be kosher). Anyways, I used to spend all my time with my mother and grandmother. Besides, I also believed that this was the way to be, as if there was no other way to be. We would knit and do embroidery together, and often welcome guests. Our house was located at a corner, which made everyone drop by. We had guests almost everyday. The guests who came in the afternoons would play card games with the family members. “Pastra”, a kind of “Pishti”, “Kunkam”, and “7.5” were among the card games which were played. There used to be three jars at home filled with 3 different types of cookies: cheese, vanilla, and blackpepper. When they were finished, my grandmother would make new ones. I still have this tradition going on at my home. When my daughter was young, her friends who came to visit would go after the jars and eat the cookies which my mother had made as “ke se tope” [a term in Ladino meaning “to have something at home to offer/ to eat”] I was glad to see the children happy. My friends like the blackpepper cookies, which I make quite often.
, Türkiye
During my childhood, a washerwoman [a woman to do the washing only at a time when there were no washing machines] came to our house regularly. The name of this woman was Simbul, and she was Jewish. I have two memories related to this issue. I was the only daughter of the family who didn’t eat much food. My father would find and bring home the best of everything. The washerwoman had a daughter with red cheeks. My mother asked her enviously what she gave her daughter to eat. She replied that she dipped bread into the coffee grounds which she had drunk before and gave this to her in the morning, and she shared with her daughter the food she was given at the houses where she worked. In this way, they felt very sad, because I was very thin, though they were all paying very much attention to me.
This woman also worked at the community affairs. My grandmother was a very understanding woman. One day, while the woman was washing the laundry, news came that a corpse had to be washed. The woman left her work and started to prepare to go. As she was about to leave, my grandmother asked her whether she would also wash her nicely when she died. The washing maid said: “Si, a si biva la madam, de alma i de korason” meaning of “course madam, I’ll do it with all my heart.
This woman also worked at the community affairs. My grandmother was a very understanding woman. One day, while the woman was washing the laundry, news came that a corpse had to be washed. The woman left her work and started to prepare to go. As she was about to leave, my grandmother asked her whether she would also wash her nicely when she died. The washing maid said: “Si, a si biva la madam, de alma i de korason” meaning of “course madam, I’ll do it with all my heart.
, Türkiye
During our childhood, respect and love in our relations with our neighbors was important. We would all dine together under the pergola in the gardens during the summer months.
, Türkiye
I was a well-liked student in the 29th Primary School in Ortakoy. One of my teachers who liked me very much wanted to call me by her own name, Yıldız. The name “Kemal” was given to Mustafa Kemal Ataturk [9] also by his teacher. My teacher must have been inspired by this event. My father didn’t favor this situation much, but for a while I was called Yıldız at school. My teacher would invite me to her house and treat me as if I was her own daughter. My father wasn’t very happy about this intimacy. He would politely turn down my teacher’s offers to have me over at her summer house. I often took part in the plays at school, and was found to be succesful. Today, if they ask me what I would like to be if I could be born again I would say “an announcer”. This is probably due to my memories from my school years. My Muslim friends’ mothers used wear a black scarf first when I was in the primary school. Later on, they started using colored ones. And most of them uncovered their heads as a result of the Ataturk reforms. [10] For this reason, I have a big love for Ataturk and secularity.
Ataturk’s death holds a special place in my memories. That morning, on the 10th of November in 1938, we saw the teachers running all of a sudden. They gathered us in the garden. The eyes of the teachers were swollen from crying. First, they told us to take out our white collars and then they sent us home. A mourning atmosphere was also prevailing at home. I remember all the students having been taken to Dolmabahce Palace [Ataturk’s residence at the time], and everybody crying. I also remember memorizing Ataturk poems. We were all crying as we passed in front of his body.
Ataturk’s death holds a special place in my memories. That morning, on the 10th of November in 1938, we saw the teachers running all of a sudden. They gathered us in the garden. The eyes of the teachers were swollen from crying. First, they told us to take out our white collars and then they sent us home. A mourning atmosphere was also prevailing at home. I remember all the students having been taken to Dolmabahce Palace [Ataturk’s residence at the time], and everybody crying. I also remember memorizing Ataturk poems. We were all crying as we passed in front of his body.
Not every household had radios in those times. Our neighbors had one in their house, and we would listen to the “children’s hour” on Saturday mornings over at their house.
, Türkiye
During the summer months, my mother would take me to the place of today’s Cıragan Palace to swim. She couldn’t swim, but I learned how to swim in the Bosphorus.
, Türkiye
I had a childhood full of quite nice memories. We would gather in the gardens, and play games. At night girls and boys, Muslim or not, would gather and play hide-and-seek with a piece of wood. We would spin a big piece of wood in the middle, and try to hide ourselves till it stopped spinning, then the “it” [the one to close his eyes] would open his eyes, and start searching for us. Throughout Ramadan [Muslim month of fasting] we would gather around the mosque and sing all together during Iftar [the end of Ramadan], when all the lights were on. These songs were children songs at first, then became the popular songs of the time.
The house I grew up in is the same house my mother came to as a bride in Ortakoy. It was three-storeyed, and we always had electricity and running water. This house and the three other similar ones, were bought by selling a very valuable diamond bracelet of Rasel Baruh. While the Baruh family lived in one of them, in the three others lived some Muslim tenants. The relations with these neighbors were very good. But once when one of these neighbors said: “Of all the Jews I like you the best”, I felt uneasy. I took this to mean that “if he liked us more, he must like the others less”. From then on, I felt little bit heart-broken towards those neighbors.
I was born in a neighborhood of Istanbul, called Ortakoy in 1929. I wasn’t named after my paternal grandmother as was the tradition, but was named after my father’s sister who had died at a very young age. [In the Sephardic tradition, the first girl born in the family is named after her father’s mother, the first boy after his father’s father, the second girl after her mother’s mother, and the second boy after her mother’s father] I’m the only daughter of this family. When I asked my mother about why I didn’t have any siblings, she used to reply: “la situation ke ofre la Banco di Roma no permetiya de azer otra kreyatura” meaning “the financial rewards which Banco di Roma offered did not permit us to have another child”. In the beginning I accepted this answer, but later on as I thought of even poorer families who had more children but who never starved and even went onto higher education, I decided that my mother was a little bit unfair. I even found my mother more unfair when I saw that my life style wasn’t even close to being poor. My father, from time to time, received some bonus or shopping tickets from the bank. He brought home food which was called delicacy with these tickets. Some examples of the delicacy are: Likorinos, lakerda [salted fish varieties], Gruyere [yellow French cheese] and Roquefort cheese, kalamata olives, and canned sardines. But within the years, I sometimes thought “I’m lucky to have no siblings, taking care of this mother and father is my duty.
, Türkiye
My mother Fortune Mazalto Baruh, was educated in Istanbul after finishing primary school in Edirne. She received her diploma, from Alliance Israelite Universelle [8], called “Grand Brevet” [the big diploma]. My father had a colleague named Monsieur Seni, at the bank. Monsiuer Seni thought my father Josef Baruh and my mother Fortune Mitrani would be well-suited for each other. My mother got married and settled down in Ortakoy, when the families consented to this marriage. My mother never flirted with my father. My mother felt very happy when my daughter had a son, and dedicated herself to him. She would express her love by saying “ I didn’t know what love meant until I fell in love with Meyir (the name of my daughter’s son).
The wedding took place in the synagogue in Ortakoy one Friday during the spring months of the year 1928. (my mother never knew the exact date, she would only say that the weather was warm). There was a special excitement about weddings on Fridays. Everything had to be finished before the Shabat [shabbath], and they had to be home on Friday evening. We didn’t have any photographs taken after the wedding, in order not to violate the Shabat. That is why my mother doesn’t have a picture of herself with her wedding gown on. According to what my mother says, they went to a hotel in Yenikoy to spend their honeymoon. They rented one room for themselves, and one room for my grandmother. My mother has never forgotten this event and she still hasn’t forgiven her mother-in-law for it. How funny it seems today, a mother-in-law going on the honeymoon with the newly-wed couple.
Actually, my mother spent very nice days in Ortakoy. But she was a woman who was never quite satisfied with her own circumstances. I guess she was a litle bit ambitious, while my father was a very calm man in return. Though my mother always says, that her mother-in-law had ordered her to work, I always remember my grandmother doing the work. My mother was a very affectionate person, but she showed her affection only to the ones whom she loved. She was cold towards the others. She didn’t like being friends with everyone. Those she loved, she loved with all her heart, and wouldn’t hesitate to make any sacrifices for them. She was never able to get over my father being diagnosed with the Parkinson disease, and said that this disease affected her life very much. She was very skilled at cooking. But she wasn’t open to innovations. For this reason, in a good menu, there had to be “borekas” [Sephardic pastry filled with different kinds of fillings, either sweet or salty, like cheese, eggplants, potatoes or walnuts], not crepe. But in return she was very open-minded. She had both welcomed my son’s and my daughter’s flirts very nicely and provided them with comfort at home so that they would come and go without any hesitation. She said that she did this in the name of getting to know them better. But she couldn’t keep herself from asking each time “de quelle famille il/ elle est” meaning “which family is she/he from”. She liked getting dressed very much. She dyed her hair till six months before her death. She always had her manicure and pedicure done. She died in the year of 1992.
The wedding took place in the synagogue in Ortakoy one Friday during the spring months of the year 1928. (my mother never knew the exact date, she would only say that the weather was warm). There was a special excitement about weddings on Fridays. Everything had to be finished before the Shabat [shabbath], and they had to be home on Friday evening. We didn’t have any photographs taken after the wedding, in order not to violate the Shabat. That is why my mother doesn’t have a picture of herself with her wedding gown on. According to what my mother says, they went to a hotel in Yenikoy to spend their honeymoon. They rented one room for themselves, and one room for my grandmother. My mother has never forgotten this event and she still hasn’t forgiven her mother-in-law for it. How funny it seems today, a mother-in-law going on the honeymoon with the newly-wed couple.
Actually, my mother spent very nice days in Ortakoy. But she was a woman who was never quite satisfied with her own circumstances. I guess she was a litle bit ambitious, while my father was a very calm man in return. Though my mother always says, that her mother-in-law had ordered her to work, I always remember my grandmother doing the work. My mother was a very affectionate person, but she showed her affection only to the ones whom she loved. She was cold towards the others. She didn’t like being friends with everyone. Those she loved, she loved with all her heart, and wouldn’t hesitate to make any sacrifices for them. She was never able to get over my father being diagnosed with the Parkinson disease, and said that this disease affected her life very much. She was very skilled at cooking. But she wasn’t open to innovations. For this reason, in a good menu, there had to be “borekas” [Sephardic pastry filled with different kinds of fillings, either sweet or salty, like cheese, eggplants, potatoes or walnuts], not crepe. But in return she was very open-minded. She had both welcomed my son’s and my daughter’s flirts very nicely and provided them with comfort at home so that they would come and go without any hesitation. She said that she did this in the name of getting to know them better. But she couldn’t keep herself from asking each time “de quelle famille il/ elle est” meaning “which family is she/he from”. She liked getting dressed very much. She dyed her hair till six months before her death. She always had her manicure and pedicure done. She died in the year of 1992.
, Türkiye
My father Josef Baruh’s name was Yasef Mishon Baruh. [in his documents] He was born in 1902, and died in 1982. He belonged to a part in the society of the time, which could have been regarded as being intellectual. He was educated in Saint Joseph. [A French catholic high school] My father worked at an Italian bank called Banco di Roma [Bank of Rome], and didn’t do any other work in his life. Josef Baruh would go to work carrying a walking stick, and wearing a derby on his head, and “getr” on his socks. [In Turkish this is an ornamental chain worn on the upper part of the socks]. My mother did not like him carrying the walking stick at all. She said that this made him look old. Josef Baruh paid and served in the military for a shorter period of time. He worked as a cleaner at a Military Hospital during his military service. I remember my father as a literary man with a beautiful handwriting. There was also a book named “Bareme” [classification system], which my father had written. He had written this book which consisted of mathematical charts providing more convenient methods for the conversion of foreign currencies. He stayed awake late at night in order to complete the book. By the time the book was published, people had begun to use calculating machines, and did not find the book as helpful as expected. He was terribly disapointed that his efforts had been in vain. His sensitive nature couldn’t handle this, he got sick, and was diagnosed with the Parkinson disease in 1945. In those years, the Parkinson disease wasn’t that known. There was no treatment for the disease, and nothing to stop it from spreading. I felt very sad when this diagnosis was made. It was very painful for me to think of such a well-spoken man with such beautiful handwriting, as my father losing his abilities. He would prepare all the billboards that hung on the walls in my class during the “Domestic Goods Week” [Entertaining events were prepared at schools to encourage the students to use Turkish products, and to prevent them from fancying European goods. Children were thought to eat fruits grown in Turkey.] In this way, I had become popular amongst my teachers. My father regularly read a lot of books. He used to put his initials on every book he read to prevent them from being read for the second time. The newspapers of the time, like Journal D’Orient [6] and Stamboul [7] were delivered till Ortakoy, just for my father and his few friends.
When he retired from the Banco di Roma, my father was given a medal, depicting Romulus and Remus, symbols of Rome. Only, my husband went to that ceremony. Neither the wives nor the daughters were invited to such ceremonies at that time. The women did not take part in the social life fully yet. They didn’t participate in business relations either. I have kept the medal for years and have given it to my son now for it to be passed on to future generations. My son placed it in a nice corner at his house. My father went to my husband’s office for long years after he retired. He took care of the correspondence work in my husband’s office. And my husband benefited from my father’s banking and foreign language knowledge. My father regularly took his lunch box with him. He never ate outside.
When he retired from the Banco di Roma, my father was given a medal, depicting Romulus and Remus, symbols of Rome. Only, my husband went to that ceremony. Neither the wives nor the daughters were invited to such ceremonies at that time. The women did not take part in the social life fully yet. They didn’t participate in business relations either. I have kept the medal for years and have given it to my son now for it to be passed on to future generations. My son placed it in a nice corner at his house. My father went to my husband’s office for long years after he retired. He took care of the correspondence work in my husband’s office. And my husband benefited from my father’s banking and foreign language knowledge. My father regularly took his lunch box with him. He never ate outside.
When it comes to my mother’s side, I know that they are from Edirne. My mother’s father David Mitrani, had a very humorous and a cheerful nature. He made his living from his winery. Judeo-Spanish was also the mother tongue of this family who were not very religious. My mother, Fortune Baruh, came from Edirne at the age of three. She didn’t tell me anything about her life in Edirne. The most important thing I know about this family who are of Thracian origin, is that they were highly cultured. At the same time, the Mitrani family was famous for their humorous nature. Even my cousin Josef Sarfati (the son of my mother’s sister Virjini Sarfati), was invited over to friends’ gatherings on Saturday evenings, just to entertain them. His wife, Rozet Sarfati, was not very happy about this stituation at all.
My mother’s mother Simbul was also a housewife and of Edirne origin. I don’t have much information about the grandmother. Simbul Mitrani’s sibling married someone, bearing the surname Seni, and became a teacher at a primary school.
My mother’s mother Simbul was also a housewife and of Edirne origin. I don’t have much information about the grandmother. Simbul Mitrani’s sibling married someone, bearing the surname Seni, and became a teacher at a primary school.
One of the family members whom I remember well is my grandmother’s late sister, Rebeka Musabak’s husband, Hayimachi Musabak. Hayimachi had refused to live with his own family and had chosen to live with his wife’s family for many years. We followed the Kasherut [kashrut] and the Shabat [shabbath] rules strictly in my childhood’s home in Ortakoy. I guess this made him take this decision. The religious rules were followed in the Hatem and Baruh families, and Judeo-Spanish was spoken as the mother-tongue. My grandmother’s late sister’s husband would wear a “kipa”, and put on his “tefillin” every morning, and sometimes put on an “entari”. [“entari” is the turkish word for “robe”. These robes, worn by men, were long shirts reaching the knees. This was an Ottoman tradition.] We lived to the full but without haste, in love and peace in this house of my childhood in Ortakoy.
Salamon Baruh, my father’s father, the husband of my grandmother Rashel Baruh, was a well-respected man. He also used to work at the Karako Shop, in Beyoglu. His father-in-law had probably employed him. But Salamon Baruh died of a sudden heart attack at a young age. He couldn’t see any of his children’s weddings. For this reason, my grandmother would only dress in dark colors. She didn’t wear a scarf or a “yemeni” [a turkish scarf with embroidered borders], and would comb her hair into a bun, which was called a “kurulika”. Rashel Baruh died in 1963. She stayed at the Or-Ahayim Hospital [3] for a year before she died. She had broken her hipbone and that was a common enough thing to happen to old people in those days. I went to the hospital two or three times a week from the day she was hospitalized till the day she died.
Rashel Baruh was a well-respected and liked lady in spite of her minimal education. She had finished primary school, in the Jewish Primary School in Uskudar. There was hardly a person who didn’t know Rashel Baruh in Ortakoy. She helped everyone. I remember her listening to many people’s problems patiently. Besides, she was the first to volunteer for duties which could be regarded as “mitzva” [mitzvah], like washing the dead or looking after sick people. She had an effective role in my life, too. They had asked me whom I would like to take with me to the hospital, for my first child’s delivery. I had said that I’d like to have my grandmother with me, of course. The one to hold my hand should be my grandmother. My mother could wait for the news at home.
My father’s side of the family was from Istanbul. My father’s father, Salamon Baruh, used to work at a glassware shop in Beyoglu [a fashionable district in Istanbul with the street named Pera running in the middle of it] named “Karako”. “Istiklal Caddesi” [this very fashionable street that ran from Taksim Square till Tunel was then called “Pera”], the trade center of Istanbul, where foreign firms and shops selling foreign goods were located, was the busiest street of the city. During those days, working at a big shop brought with it an organized life. Being in charge of a warehouse or working as a cashier at a big shop was regarded as a respected career and was enough to support the family. Not everyone needed to become a merchant. Salamon Baruh, by taking advantage of the privilege granted to non-muslims had not performed his military service. [1] Salamon Baruh, had two more sisters, named Rebeka and Lea. Rebeka married Hayim Musabak, and they never had any children. On the other hand, Lea married the son of a very wealthy family, named Bohoraci Ravuna.