LAG BAOMER
In June 2019 I traveled for the first time to Israel, a country that called my attention for a while. It felt surreal to see direction signs to Nazareth or Jerusalem on the highways. For the first time the concept of 'holy land' became a true experience.
I’ve visited several places, still Jerusalem fascinated me in its own way. Experiencing it first hand, the clush of thousand years old cultures and religions blew my mind! That place didn’t leave me another option than to start my philosophical engines.
On my second day of my Isreal trip a befriended photographer, Ilan Ben Yehuda, picked me up in Tel Aviv and took me to Mea Shearim, an ultra-orthodox neigbourhood in Jerusalem. Ilan shoots there several times per week and briefed me regarding the strict rules of behaviour. I wouldn't have been the first stranger who would have suffered verbal and even physical attacks, if I wouldn't follow the rules. Luckily I didn't experience any of it. I only got a friendly reminder, that women shouldn't wear trousers.
The Haredi Jews of Mea Shearim live a very modest and predetermined life in absolute devotion to their religion. While men dedicate their time to studying the Thora, women are responsible for raising the kids and supporting and feeding the family. It is common that a family has five children or more. Many of them aren’t even officially registered. To me this incapsulated, selfsuficient and regulated community life seems very unfree and retarded in a way. I guess everyone would think so who was lucky enough to grow up in a liberal society. Still I found it fascinating and I’m sure there are many things we could learn from them.
We arrived there around noon. During the day there weren’t many people on the street, just a few kids playing here and there in the alleys. I enjoyed watching them. They seemed so carefree. It was an extremly hot day with almost 40°C and people, so I was told, were busy with preparations for the Lag Baomer festivities that would take place at night. Lag Baomer is celebrated once a year in honor of mystic rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai who lived several cenutries ago.
In the late afternoon more people started to come out of their houses and stapled wood, matrasses and all sorts of inflammable things to huge heaps. These would serve as base for the enourmous bonfires that they lit at night. There were several fires in the neigbourhood, all were gigantic. A very specific, type of jewish music was playing everywhere and the party was on. The man danced themselves into trance around the fires, while the women with the children were gathering further away. It was an impressive spectacle that made me feel like I traveled to a completely different time and space. Especially when the police came and wanted to shut down the fire because of safety concerns and the jews started to chase them screaming ‚Nazi, Nazi!‘. The seperation of men and women seemed surreal to me and several times I was reminded for my own safety to better stick on the womens' side. At one location they seperated us even with a fence that one fanatic jew started to push against us, whilst screaming at us in jiddish, so that we would have to step back even further away from the venue where there was a stage and men were singing and dancing. I hated that moment. As if I was not equal to the men - and indeed in their world I wasn’t. I was a woman. Looking around me I didn’t have the feeling that any woman was bothered by this at all. Inhale, exhale, and focus on your pictures.
