Nissan Romeo was five.
World war 2 was long settled. Wounds were starting to heal. The dead, quickly
forgotten.
World war 2 had
gripped the world by the balls. Never before in humanity’s history, had such a
war been recorded. The body count was of colossal proportions. Patriotic
soldiers, men who offered their souls for their beloved nations. Women caught
up in the cross hairs of the battle, raped without mercy. Children in
classrooms were smoked out by bombs, flushed like rabbits from subterranean liars.
Hitler on one side with his swastika and Axis forces, the Allies on the other
side with American blessings. Europe was this massive killing field. And each
day, as the sun retired, thousands of souls were erased from the world. Fathers
and mothers. Sons and daughters. Uncles and aunts. Even pets did not survive
this onslaught. If poisoned gas did not get to them, then certainly they would
suffocate to death under debris of bombed buildings.
In the midst and mists
of this confusion, Hitler launched his inhuman campaign against Jews: the
systematic slaughtering of over 6 million Jews. History has never been kind to
the Jews. And depending on your religious bent, they have always been on the
run. In the bible, the Babylonians were the Jewish Waterloo. In world war two,
it was the Nazi ideology, propagated by its most famous poster boy; Adolf
Hitler. Jews were forced to scamper all over the world like orphaned chicks in
the sights of an eagle. Searching for an unknown sanctuary. For a home so
elusive, like rain in the Sahara.
1949, Tehran.
Nissan gets home to a
silent house.
His towering father is
staring blankly at walls of the living room. While his loving mom was seated on
the carpet. No words are exchanged, just a solid silence which echoes through
the house. His mum runs and hugs him but his father remains stoic, his face
blanched. White as snow, as if all the blood had been drained. He tries to ask
his mom if all is well but he is met with more silence and a hug. After what
seemed like an eternal quietness, Nissan’s father turns around to face them.
His eyes are worn out. Veins run across his face like streams during the rainy
season. Life has beaten him, it has won. He’d sworn by his forefathers’ name
that he was going to stay no matter what. But there comes a time in a man’s
life that he has to eat a humble pie. This was one of those moments. Iran had
declared all the Jews as Persona non grata, and now he had to go. He could have
stayed but what awaited them was but pain and surreal suffering. And no man can
let that happen to his family. No sane man is going to seat and wait for his
family to be killed right in front of him. His wife and daughters to be raped
right before his very eyes. Watch as his son’s eyes are gorged out.
He summoned his family
together. They prayed together that night. The last prayer they would have on
Iranian soil. They had a hasty dinner, a last supper and set off for the
airport.
On the runway, an
Israeli jet was waiting; roaring like a mad volcano as the last of Iranian Jews
boarded. Nissan and his family were among this procession. He took a seat by
the window, his father settled beside him. His mother and sister were two seats
in front them.
“In Iran, Jews were treated
like second class human beings. We were compared to animals. We had to leave or
hell and worse would be met upon us. To be minority is horrible, you don’t have
a voice. And if you have it, nobody listens.”
The jet started
moving. Nissan watched the last Iranian night flew by. They were leaving
everything behind. All his young friends, yet to poisoned by the anti-Jewish
crusade, he was never going to see them again. All the wealth his father and
mother had worked for down the years, they had left it. Their house, their
family car, everything. They never even parked, all they had was clothes they
wore that day.
Iran did not want
them.
The plane lurched and
slowly lifted to the skies. Goodbye Tehran. Hello Tel Aviv. The city that had
once been Nissan’s home was now a speck from the heavens. He would come back to
Tehran again. Decades later, as a fighter pilot in the Israeli air force.
We are seated under a
tent at Kisii university when he tells me this. This is his first time in
Africa and he likes it. The weather is brilliant he says. And now that he has
discovered Kenya, he will be a frequent.
“I heard so many
stories about Africa, Kenya. But I had never really experienced this. I have
travelled to almost every part of the world, but this is my first time here.
It’s beautiful, I like it.”
We had this talk with
Nissan almost 2 months back at the annual Kistrech international poetry
festival. I am not a poet, I steer away from poets, they are weird people. To
be honest, I don’t understand poets, I don’t like them. In my high school years,
I tried poetry but I was too shitty, I stopped. So, what was I doing in this
festival? Well, law school had started getting on my nerves and when the
invitation came, I knew that I was going. No matter what. But what pulled me to
the festival more were the people attending, I was hunting for stories. And
what a better place to find stories than a party of poets? The festival was
crap to be honest, its organizers need to up their game. The people who turned
up though, did not disappoint. Some proud Greeks kept singing all through, oblivious
of the fact that heat waves and a financial crisis were ravaging their country.
You got to love poets.
It was in this melange of words, phrases, rhythms and music, that I met Nissan Romeo and his wife
Judith Romeo. The name Nissan, I thought it was Japanese, maybe because of the
similarity with the automobile maker. Nissan, as I learnt, is the first month
of the Hebrew calendar. They have been married for the past 48 years and their
love for one another continues to burgeon. She too was a victim of the
holocaust, only she didn’t experience it firsthand. She has Hungarian origins;
her mother was forced to flee from Germany as the gestapo unleashed hell on
Jews. She found safe haven in Hungary, where Judith was born. When the Jewish
state was created in 1948, like many others scattered all over the world, they
started the exodus home. Generations on the run, they were finally headed home.
An oasis of peace. No feeling trumps that of home. None.
We talk of Tehran. The
city he was born.
“They were up on our
necks. You would walk in the market and people would point at you. You would
hear someone saying how they planned to take your house. Another would be eying
your car. To them we were the scum of the earth, vermin that did not deserve
life. We were branded ZIONISTS. And what was the motto in the Arab world?"
Death to all
ZIONISTS!!!
I tried to comprehend
this but nothing prepared me for the bomb he dropped next.
“There were people who
walked around with sacks. They would ask if anybody wants Jewish skin.”
And trying to picture
that is the most gut-wrenching thought to ever cross my mind. WHO WANTS JEWISH
SKIN???
“We arrived in Israel,
with nothing but tired hearts and aching souls. There, we would have to start
from the sewers again. But when you’re home, no challenge is insurmountable. We
dug in our heels and slogged.”
Military duty came
calling, and this is the part that, Judith, Nissan’s wife jumps in with humor.
“Military service is a
must in Israel, you have no choice. Girl or boy. On your sixteenth birthday
instead of a cake, you get a letter from the government. ‘Congratulations on
turning sixteen, the army needs you, your country needs you.’ To a certain
extent its brainwashing but its for the best. In world war two we were almost
wiped out. But now, in case of anything we are more prepared. And anybody
threatens us, we rain fire upon them.”
In his time with the
army, Nissan served in the Israeli air force. Flying over war zones and leading
numerous campaigns against the Arab world. He steadily rose through the ranks,
but one time in a training exercise, it hits him. Maybe he wasn’t meant for
this. He needed to do more in life than flying over villages and turning them
into mountains of ashes. His purpose in life wasn’t to exterminate enemies of
the Jewish state. That night as he lay in bed with his wife, he shared his
thoughts with her. He wanted to quit the army and study stuff to do with
electronics, majoring in robotics. That was the north pole the compass of his
heart was pointing to. Judith kissed him in the darkness, soft and hard. Their
teeth collided in the Jewish night, he had her blessing. And what more than to
have the woman you love on your side?
At the time of this
conversation, in the hills of Kisii, life has been good to Nissan. He has done
well in robotics and his company is thriving in the robot business. He is about
to retire from the business and he is taking his eldest son of 45 years through
the paces.
“Soon he will be in
charge. The company needs new blood and my time is drawing to a close. I am not
a poet but my wife is. So, when she was invited for this festival we decided to
come together. The young boy can run the show back home. All I want to do right
now is travel the world. Go to places I have never been to. Talk to people that
nobody else is talking to. And learn of new cultures because Israel is boring
in a way. It’s almost like a medicated slumber of Netanyahu’s propaganda.”
He says this and then
turns to his wife. Smiles run through their faces. They are beacons of true
love, a romance which has withstood the test of time. Their smiles seemed to
say so much, yet so less. They had learnt of each other’s demons and accepted
to live with them. Most likely they had fights, but such did not break them. A
bond stronger than diamond had been forged through decades.
Is it love which has
made them to stick together?
“It takes more than
love.” Judith says.
“Because with time,
romance will fade away. There you have to learn how to cultivate a discipline.
Accept that you’re going to wake up to the same eyes each morning. You’re going
to sleep in the same pair of arms each night. I think when you do that and lock
away what the rest of the world thinks, then you will stick together."
We talk with Nissan
about manhood and passion. Of course, I had to ask about manhood, I can’t help
it. Whenever I run into older men, this is one of the questions I carry with
me. You see, the funny thing here is that of all the men I talk to, none seems
to understand this concept of manhood. They will all take you through some wild
goose chase. Tell you bullshit philosophies about what really entails to be a
man. When you look at it, everybody battles manhood in their own way. Manhood
is a lonely fight that not even your father can help you win. You just have to
find your own path in the wilderness. “Find your own way Momanyi, find your
way.” Nissan said.
“With passion. Do what
your heart wants, the first thing you think of when you wake up in the morning.
Find purpose in your cause, don’t be led by the hunger to get money. Because
money will always be there. So, do your
part and let nature take care of the rest. I think that when you do your best
in anything, sooner or later you will get somewhere.”
Nissan has a second
degree in reflexology. I know people like Asirikwa will ask, what the hell is
reflexology? This is an art that involves applying pressure to certain points on
the feet and joints. This helps to alleviate pain and can greatly relieve stress.
One time, his eldest daughter is giving birth. She had been in labuor for over
2 hours but the doctors weren’t making any progress. Enter Nissan, the
reflexogy master. He did his thing and in less than ten minutes his daughter
came through and gave birth. So, all campus chicks reading this, don’t shy away
from giving birth.
Ati sijui labour pains.
Reflexology is here.
Photo credits (Nissan
Romeo and Judith Romeo)
Ps.
A happy birthday to Ann Alvira, she has been reading ever since we crossed
paths. She’s a lady, not girl, lady. Cheers Annie.
This is a story of
refugees. Nissan got a chance to better himself but not so many out here have
the same opportunity. More so here in Africa where the refugee crisis has its
foundations. From the rain forests of Congo
to the sands of Somalia. From Kakuma to Daadab. UN in conjunction with other
organisations have tried to change there lives but the story is the same. Those
camps are ticking time bombs.
This holiday, bring a
smile to someone’s face. Join the movement @LuQuLuQu foundation and give the
small you can. In Kenya, employ the m-pesa business number (329378), account number
“TheGreatestGift”.
Join the conversation
on social media #IamLuQuLuQU.
Share widely.
#DoItLuQuLuQu
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