By Daniel Ben Simon Haaretz September 19, 2003

CASABLANCA, Morocco – Soon another Shabbat will end, and the worshipers in
King David Synagogue in Casablanca will take their leave of one another with
kisses on the cheek and head for home. Until next Shabbat. A little while ago,
they sat in the spacious hall in the basement of the building and listened to a
sermon delivered by Eli Cohen, an affluent businessman who manufactures
chemical substances. Cohen acquired Torah learning in his spare time and thus
obtained the status of a preacher among the congregants.

Fewer than 15 worshipers remained for the evening prayer. More than 40 had
turned up for the morning service, and a few women wearing fashionable hats sat
in the women’s section. Cohen did a lot of gesturing with his hands to
illustrate how closely connected the weekly Torah portion was to the events of the
week in Morocco. Skillfully interweaving three languages – the bit of Hebrew he
learned in the Jewish school along with fluent French and Moroccan Arabic – he
expounded on the meaning of the positive commandments and the prohibitory
commandments. “Hada hawa l’esprit juif shel mitzvat aseh,” he told his audience -
“This is the Jewish spirit of a positive commandment.”

Immediately after the sermon and after eating their fill of the refreshments
that were offered, the worshipers went upstairs to the synagogue floor. Each
of the hundreds of seats organized in a U shape around the Ark of the Law has
its owner’s name engraved on it in gilded letters. More than 50 synagogues
serve the Jewish community of Casablanca, which has fewer than 2,500 members. The
splendid King David Synagogue was completed two years ago, enabling the
residents of the prestigious Anfa Quarter to pray close to home. Before that, they
had to walk about half an hour to reach the nearest synagogue, which was an
ordeal for the older worshipers.

Before the evening prayer, one of the worshipers ascended to the platform to
pray for “the well-being of our prime minister and the safety of our soldiers”
- referring to the prime minister of Israel and the soldiers of the Israel
Defense Forces – as well as for the well-being of King Mohammed VI, Crown Prince
Mulai Hassan and the entire royal family. He would afterward add a blessing
for the soldiers of the IDF for “defending us from the border of Lebanon to the
Egyptian desert ….”

Emerging from the synagogue, the worshipers embraced and kissed and wished
each other a good week. Standing at the gate were two uniformed security men and
next to them, two sloppy looking guards. The Jews waved to them in greeting
and the guards replied “Shavua tov” – Have a good week – in Hebrew. In the past
there was only one guard stationed at the synagogue, but since the terrorist
attacks of May 16 security at all Jewish institutions has been beefed up.
There are also undercover police who patrol the site 24 hours a day.

Nevertheless, it is clear from the looks on the worshipers’ faces that the
heightened security has not diminished the fear that was generated on the night
of terror that shook the country. The most popular Jewish club in the city is
located not far from the synagogue – or, to be more accurate, the ruins of
what was once a popular club. For years, the Jewish club, Le Cercle de
l’Alliance, was a favorite of the city’s Jews and of visiting Israeli tourists. In
addition to a large restaurant that served kosher food, the club also had gaming
rooms. Hundreds of Jews gathered there every evening in a Jewish- Israeli
atmosphere and discussed Moroccan and Israeli politics in a fusion of Hebrew and
Moroccan and reveled in the strong sense that Jewish life in Morocco was
guaranteed forever. Here they could, without interference, wear a skullcap, speak
Hebrew and feel Jewish.

It might have been mass murder

And then the unthinkable happened. On that calamitous night, 14 suicide
bombers targeted five sites. Three of them made their way to the Jewish club. It
was Friday night, the Sabbath eve, and the assailants were certain that this
would be the most crowded night at the club; they didn’t know that this was the
only night of the week when the club was closed. Only one guard stood between
them and the building. One of the attackers blew himself up and killed the
guard, a Muslim, and the two others entered and set off the explosives they were
carrying. The building collapsed like a house of cards, burying the remains of
the suicide bombers beneath the rubble.

A few minutes before the blast, Serge Berdugo and his hosts in Casablanca
were about to begin their Sabbath eve meal. The head of the Jewish community was
sitting comfortably in his chair when his mobile phone rang. Hysterically, his
Muslim housekeeper told him about the explosion. Berdugo stopped her sharply.
“Calm down,” he told her. “What explosion are you talking about?” he asked.
“At the Jewish club,” she stammered.

Berdugo began to show signs of impatience. Not even in his worst nightmares
had he imagined a scenario like this. A few minutes later, the housekeeper’s
husband called and described what had occurred at the club. He and his family
live across the way from the club and were witnesses to the horrific incident.
“I saw a body on the floor,” he said in a trembling voice.

Berdugo rushed to the site. He will not soon forget what he saw there. A row
of policemen surrounded the place where the building had stood and where now
there was only a crater in which were the remains of walls, chairs and tables.

The country’s two television networks broadcast live from the scenes of the
attacks and the Jews of Casablanca stayed up all night watching. They calmed
down only after it became clear that there were no Jews among the dead. At the
same time, they were deeply upset at the thought of what could have happened if
the suicide bombers had chosen some other night to attack the club. “I don’t
even want to think about it,” Berdugo sighs. “There could have been hundreds
of casualties – mass murder.”

According to David Elkeslassi, director of the Jewish club, if the attack had
succeeded, it would have put a brutal end to Jewish existence in Morocco. Two
weeks ago, Elkeslassi attended the funeral of Yaakov Azran, who died at a
ripe old age and was buried in the well-kept cemetery of the Jewish community in
Casablanca. Hundreds of people came to bid farewell to the man who was a
pillar of the community for decades. As he was talking about the Jewish club,
Elkeslassi cast a lengthy glance at the Moroccan security men who were providing
protection for the funeral. Since the May attacks, the authorities are taking no
chances: Every event involving an assembly of Jews is given protection. The
main road leading to the cemetery was closed to traffic and the police ordered
cars to use other routes.

It’s clear that Elkeslassi has not yet recovered from the trauma of the
club’s destruction. Since taking over as director, he had rarely missed an evening
of work. On the Friday of the explosion he was abroad. When he returned the
next day, he discovered that the building, which had been his whole life, was
razed to the ground. “I have to admit that if the suicide bombers had chosen a
different day, hundreds of people would have been killed,” he said as he
marched in the funeral procession. “I don’t want to think about it, but if it had
happened, God forbid, we would not be here today. Not one Jew would be left in
Morocco,” he said in a whisper.

The timing of the attack led the authorities to conclude that foreigners were
behind it. “Local people would have known that the Jewish club is closed on
Friday night,” Berdugo explained. That conclusion went some way toward
dissipating the fear that had spread through the community and allowed them to take
comfort in the illusion, which was quite temporary, that Moroccans were not
involved in planning the horrific action. In their distress, they have insisted on
continuing to cultivate coexistence, even when the reality all around
threatened to undermine their sense of tranquility.

The tiny Jewish community that still exists in Morocco is the last slice of
life of a riveting historical saga that began when Jews reached Morocco in
search of a haven from the ravages of the Spanish Inquisition. At its height, the
community numbered 600,000 Jews, who lived across the country in natural
partnership with their Arab neighbors. Their civil status was inferior to that of
the Muslims, because they were considered dhimmi – members of a non-Muslim
religious community in a Muslim state granted protection and certain rights by the
ruler. The Jews benefited from the arrival of the French in Morocco, in 1912,
as they were able to internalize the values that the Western occupiers
brought with them. Within a few decades the Jews rose to a high level on the
professional scale, slightly below the French and well above the Muslims.

Then, in the late 1940s, Zionism burst into Morocco like a gale and swept up
the Jews in its wake. The majority immigrated to Israel, most of the others to
France and Canada. Within less than 40 years the community dwindled to only a
few thousand members, the majority living in Casablanca, Morocco’s economic
capital.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, September 23rd, 2003 and is filed under news.