News

Benchimol Hospital: Documenting Heritage Sites Before It Is Too Late

April, 2010

Portraits of Haim and Donna Benchimol at the Facility’s Entrance: Tangier, Morocco

The speed with which this seemingly secure site was unexpectedly reduced to rubble is a reminder of the importance of Diarna’s preservation efforts. Documenting heritage sites now, via digital mapping, can at least provide virtual preservation in perpetuity. For the vast majority of sites, Diarna may be the only way to ensure that essential communal data is captured and bequeathed to future generations. But we are in a race against time to preserve priceless cultural heritage before, as in this case, it is forever lost.

Haim Benchimol Home for the Elderly: 1904-2010 By Alma Rachel Heckman

Portraits of Haim and Donna Benchimol at the Facility’s Entrance, Tangier, Morocco

Only weeks before the sudden demolition of the Haim Benchimol Hospital in Tangier, Morocco, Alma Rachel Heckman, a Wellesley alumna and Fulbright Scholar doing research for Diarna, visited the affiliated 106-year-old Haim Benchimol Home for the Elderly. What follows is her account and photos of the trip. The speed with which this seemingly secure site was unexpectedly reduced to rubble is a reminder of the importance of Diarna’s preservation efforts. Documenting heritage sites now, via digital mapping, can at least provide virtual preservation in perpetuity. For the vast majority of sites, Diarna may be the only way to ensure that essential communal data is captured and bequeathed to future generations. But we are in a race against time to preserve priceless cultural heritage before, as in this case, it is forever lost.

Haim Benchimol Home for the Elderly: 1904-2010 By Alma Rachel Heckman

Over Shabbat of April 2^nd-3^rd, coinciding with Passover, one of the most enduring emblems of Jewish life in Morocco was destroyed by order of the local authorities. Founded in 1904 by banker Haim Benchimol, the now destroyed hospital and remaining affiliated old-age home has treated and welcomed Jews, Muslims and Christians for over one hundred years, predating the establishment of the French Protectorate in 1912 and surviving Moroccan independence in 1956.[1] Numerous letters of outrage have fluttered across Moroccan Jewish forums by Simon Levy of the Moroccan-Jewish Foundation in Casablanca and other community leaders both in Morocco and around the world. According to these letters and various press releases, the president of Tangier’s Jewish community, a Mr. Azancot, allowed either through negligence or intention, for the sudden destruction of the Benchimol hospital. I visited the Benchimol Home for the Elderly, which was affiliated with the erstwhile hospital, in February of 2010 as well as other prominent Jewish sites in Tangier. I would like to share with you what I saw in a journal entry I wrote at the time:

We arrived at a brown metal door among many, embedded in a white wall. Like most things Jewish in this country, there was no sign indicating what it was, in itself a sign of protective measures and security concerns. We rang the doorbell, and a thirty-something woman in a black hijab greeted us at the door. The woman greeted us warmly and welcomed us in. There was a ramp leading from the door down to a wide, narrow outdoor space, where the asylum building stood firmly. The surrounding walls were much higher than the ramp, and two large, menacing barking dogs frothed and foamed at us from the wall to the left. Our terror visible, the woman assured us it was okay and escorted us down the ramp-way and into the safety of the building. Just inside the door were formal portraits of the former king, Hassan II, and his son and current king, Muhammed VI.

A left turn past the door showed a wide, welcoming staircase to the second floor with residential rooms and the asylum’s small synagogue in a brightly lit entry hall, and a hallway on the first floor leading to the rooms of residents, the kosher kitchen, and the living room. The woman guided us through the building, taking us to the rooms of several of the residents to whom I spoke in a mixture of French and Spanish, since most of them were from the Spanish speaking territories in northern Morocco, the vast majority from Tetouan and Tangier with a few from Chefchaouen. A brother and sister pair lived here, as well as others with no family left in Morocco. Each room had a mezuzah on the door-frame, and bits of Judaica scattered the white, sanitary walls, giving a hint of character. It was as though the asylum were a white-washed and clinical museum, show-casing ephemeral Ladino culture via its living residents.

All of the residents seemed happy to have visitors and were delighted to talk with us, even if it was difficult and puzzling for them. There was one visitor in particular, a man who lived on the second floor and whose sister teaches French in Los Angeles, who made quite an impression on us. He was several inches taller than I am despite his hunched back and heavy paunch. A ring of fuzzy white hair ran around his head, with a tuft like ice-cream at the top. Color photographs of his sister and her husband were pasted on the wall next to his bed, and a tray of untouched, steaming couscous sat on his wooden desk. He had studied English in his youth and lept at the chance to practice with three Americans. He asked us our names and kissed us on the hand, and then proceeded to stick his index fingers in his ears and wiggle them while closing his eyes tight.

“Lord, do you have a message for… Gin?” he inquired. He opened his eyes. “Do you pray?” he asked Gin, a visiting friend of mine, who nodded. He stuck his fingers back in his ears. “You will be married in two years. God loves you. Say, ‘thank you Lord.’” “Thank you,” said Gin. “Lord.” “Lord,” repeated Gin. He turned to Michal, another visiting friend of mine, and repeated the gesture of sticking his fingers in his ears. “Lord, do you have a message for… Michal?” Moments passed. “Your parents love you. You will be married in six years.” Michal thanked him. Then the man turned toward me. “Lord, do you have a message fo… Alma?” One beat of silence, two beats of silence. “Beware of the robbers. You will be married very soon.”

We thanked him, bid goodbyes to him, and exited his room. He followed us down the hall while we looked into the little synagogue, and then left us. We passed portraits of the founders of the asylum, M. Haim and Mme. Donna Benchimol, descended the stairs, thanked the guardian and walked up the ramp and out, passing unmolested by the barking dogs. We exited onto the street after a sun-shower had recently passed through, a little bit hungry and with much about which to think.

The Jews of Morocco now number between 3,000-5,000 strong, concentrated in Casablanca with smaller communities elsewhere. At its peak from the middle of the last century, Tangier’s community alone is purported to have numbered about 22,000.

Notes

1. Serels, Mitchell M. “Jewish Philanthropic Societies in Morocco.” From Iberia to Diaspora: Studies in Sephardic History and Culture. Eds. Yedida K. Stillman and Norman A. Stillman, Leiden: Brill, 1999.