Echoes of Egypt’s past amidst shul restorations

Most people are surprised to learn how extensively I have travelled through the Arab world as a Jew. Today, much of the region is already devoid of Jews, and in several countries, the remaining communities are unlikely to survive beyond the next few decades. However, this doesn’t mean that there aren’t a handful of remaining Jews to meet; older non-Jews who still remember when there was once a vibrant Jewish community; or synagogues and Jewish sites that one can still access. I had one such experience when visiting Egypt in February 2022, when the world was still not fully reopened after the COVID-19 pandemic.

Dating back at least 2 500 years, Jews have had a continuous presence in Egypt, but this is about to come to an end, alongside communities in countries such as Syria, which I visited earlier this year. Given its strategic location, Egypt attracted traders and immigrants from across the Ottoman Empire and Europe. When the state of Israel was established in 1948, there were about 80 000 Jews in the country. However, one month later, and over the course of several months, bombs exploded in Cairo’s Jewish Quarter, killing 80 and wounding nearly 200. The 1952 Revolution, which overthrew King Farouk and brought Gamal Abdel Nasser’s military regime to power, recast Jews and other minorities as a “foreign element” to a regime whose raison d’être was socialism and pan-Arab identity.

Following the Suez Crisis in 1956, which marked the formal end of the British military presence in Egypt that had begun in 1882, 25 000 Jews were expelled and 1 000 imprisoned or sent to detention camps and their property confiscated. Egypt’s minister of religious affairs declared that “all Jews are Zionists and enemies of the state”, and promised their swift expulsion. At the same time, Egypt welcomed hundreds of former Nazis, among them Leopold Gleim, the former head of the Gestapo in occupied Poland, who converted to Islam and held senior positions in the secret police. After the Six-Day War, all Jewish men in Egypt between the ages of 18 and 60 were arrested and given the choice to remain imprisoned or emigrate immediately with their families.

Most of the Jews who left in the 1930s, 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s emigrated to all four corners of the globe, including southern Africa. Harare-born Joey Benadretti, who now lives in Irvine, California, was born to two parents born in Cairo who migrated to southern Rhodesia around the time of Israel’s founding. Like many other businesspeople and minorities, his paternal grandparents had migrated to Egypt from the former Ottoman Empire. His father chose to migrate to southern Rhodesia because it was an “open frontier” with opportunities, as well as its connection to the British Empire, as he was a British citizen. Most of the family eventually followed. However, some of his maternal family remained in Egypt until after the Suez Crisis, after which they migrated to Paris. He recalls that although many of the Sephardic Jews in Harare were of Rhodes origin, it wasn’t uncommon to have parents who were first generation born in Egypt.

Capetonian Riva Katz’s mother, Leah, spoke eight languages and was a first-generation Egyptian Jew. Unlike Benadretti’s family, Leah (née Bem) was Ashkenazi, born in Alexandria to an Austrian mother and a Polish father who had converted to Judaism. Her father, transferred to Egypt for work at a gas company when the country was still under British rule, died nine days after her birth. During World War II, Leah met a South African Jewish soldier who had been wounded and hospitalised in Alexandria. While recovering, he was invited to her family’s home for Shabbat dinner. The two later married in Alexandria before relocating to Malmesbury in the Western Cape. Both of Leah’s parents are buried in Alexandria. The family histories of Benadretti and Katz highlight how cosmopolitan and diverse Egypt’s Jewish community was until its demise.

Although I had visited the Sinai Peninsula multiple times from Israel, this was my first time in “mainland” Egypt. I was open about being Jewish with my tour guide, and asked to see Jewish sites in Cairo and Alexandria. We first tried visiting the Ben Ezra Synagogue in Cairo, constructed in the 12th century and named after Abraham ibn Ezra, the medieval Jewish commentator. Unfortunately, we were unable to enter, as the synagogue was being restored by the government. I wondered if we would be able to access any other Jewish sites during the trip.

Two days later, we drove two and a half hours each way on a day trip to Alexandria, Egypt’s second-largest city. My guide mentioned that the government had restored the Eliyahu Hanavi Synagogue, built in the 14th century and one of only two remaining synagogues in the city. The synagogue isn’t open to the public. Our guide explained to the guard that I was a Jewish tourist who wished to visit. The guard told us he needed a physical copy of my passport. We rushed to an internet café, printed out a scan, and returned.

Once the guard opened the gate, I was welcomed by the elderly caretaker, Mohammed. To my astonishment, he greeted me in fluent modern Hebrew, though he didn’t speak English. He explained that he had grown up in the neighbourhood, and remembered when Alexandria had a flourishing Jewish community. Despite never visiting Israel, he had taught himself Hebrew. He pointed out nearby buildings that were once part of Jewish life, including a Jewish sports club and a large government school next door that had originally been a Jewish school. The Hebrew lettering on the façade remains visible to this day.

The synagogue was large and beautifully restored, with imported pink Italian marble and benches marked with plaques reserving seats for specific community leaders and members. I took photos eagerly for friends whose parents were from Alexandria, but had never seen it themselves.

Today, Egypt’s Jewish community has dwindled to just three elderly women, the youngest of whom is in her seventies. I couldn’t help but wonder why the Egyptian government has invested millions of dollars in restoring synagogues in a country almost entirely devoid of Jews. On the one hand, it’s ironic given that the state itself was responsible for the community’s destruction in the 1950s and 1960s. On the other, I was grateful that the government recognises that Jews were an integral part of Egyptian history, whose heritage deserves to be preserved.

I encourage all Jews visiting the Arab world to visit a synagogue or Jewish cemetery, as it will give you a glimpse into a world that once was. It’s also a mitzvah to visit the graves of Jews who seldom receive visitors, as most of their descendants don’t feel comfortable returning even for a visit.

• Dan Brotman is a journalist and digital storyteller currently based in Montreal, Canada. Follow him on Instagram at @danbrotman.