Being an only child I have no idea how it feels to grow up with brothers and sisters, and I regret that this experience was denied me.
The only grandparent I came to know was my grandmother Sol Cesana (nee Behmoiras) from my mother's side. She lived with us, both in Greece and in Israel, and therefore I took her for granted. Again, I missed the feeling one only reads about in the stories, of going to visit grandmother.
I could have asked my grandmother hundreds of questions about the family and she would have answered, because she must have known most of the answers to questions that remain unsolved, but it never crossed my mind and she never talked about her past of her own initiative.
My parents, both born in Istanbul, were married in Athens. My father had come to Athens with his family (parents + two brothers and a sister) in the late twenties. He was employed in a textiles store. The Venturas were not well to do. On the other hand, my grandmother had inherited one fourth of her father's wealth, which was rather substantial. This capital was to keep us going through the troubled times that lay ahead. My mother, her brother Samuel and their mother arrived in Athens in 1936. My grandmother had a brother (Behmoiras) established there. This happened right after she lost her husband. A few months later, my parents were married.
We lived in a beautiful house in a suburb of Athens, Psychiko. Through his marriage, my father was able to open a textile store of his own in Athens. We were Italian citizens.
So long as the Italians occupied Athens during the war, we were fine. Later, however, the Germans replaced them, and we were in immediate danger of deportation. German officers confiscated my father's store and merchandise. Jews were constantly being transported to concentration camps. Friends suggested to my father that we should leave home to a place where our Jewish identity would not be known. We were given false identity papers with Greek names. I was Demetrios (Mimis) Doubiotis, 6 years old.
My parents feared that I would not be able to keep my real name secret, but I did not disappoint them.
We embarked a fishing motorboat to the island of Evia (long narrow island not far from the mainland). It was a dangerous crossing (several hours) because of frequent German patrol boats. We did not dare to use the motor or have any lights on board, not even smoking. It was dark. The sailors who managed the boat knew their way and were generously recompensed. We reached an out of the way village named Stira. Friends had supplied my mother with a false government nomination as French teacher of the village. The last thing these villagers needed was a French teacher, nor did they ever in their past history imagine that such a thing existed.
So, my parents, my grandmother (62), my mother's brother (20) and myself were herded on top of donkeys and mules, to the village, where an old widow accepted us to her house for rent. No electricity (petrol lamps), no heating
(mangal), no bathroom or toilet in the house (a very primitive installation in the yard), no telephone (there was only one in the entire village), no radio (the most important news were being diffused by means of a loudspeaker in the evenings, by the son of the head of the village). No paved streets, no running water. But this is exactly what we needed then.
Incredibly, tens of villagers sent their children to study French. These were private lessons. They did not have money to pay, so many of them would send their children loaded with fish from a nearby river, skordalia (a garlic delicatesse), a grape juice blended food, etc. We accepted everything and Mrs. Haidou, the house owner who lived with us, was ecstatic at this affluence. We stayed in the village for one year, and only left when we knew that Athens had been liberated. The villagers were poor and primitive, but not stupid at all. They must have understood that we were not Christians (we never went to church etc.) but never said a word. They used to warn us when there were rumors of German troops in the area. In those instances, we would leave the village, and walk to the mountains. We would stay away for days, sleeping out, on constant vigil for soldiers and venomous snakes, even during the marvelous starlit nights. For me, who was not fully aware of the perils, it was an unending adventure. My grandmother, who could not walk easily, would remain in the village, hidden in a concealed underground cellar.
When the allies parachuted food in the vicinity, it was cartons containing soup powder.
The villagers had never heard of a dried soup. They collected them, out of curiosity, but then it was rumored that the cartons contained powdered bones of dead people. So nobody used them, and I remember my uncle going from house to house asking whether they had any dried bones they did not need, and we had excellent soups.
I was of school age, so the local teacher accepted me to class. The first grade was held in the yard of her house. We exercised addition and subtraction on the tiles, writing with chalkstones. When an exercise was wrong she used to twist my ear, which was very painful, or suddenly pull the hair right above the ear, which was intolerable. This is how I learnt my basic mathematics.
We had entrusted our house to a Greek friend, a mathematician, and his family, who needed the lodging. On our return, we found everything intact and well kept, and became accustomed to our real names once again. However, the days of peril were not over yet, because the communists sought to take over the leadership of liberated Greece whereas the British, who were still there, fought them fiercely. A British tank was stationed two blocks away from our house, and the communists were not too far away. So we found ourselves in the battlefield so to speak.
The mathematician had nowhere to go, so he, his wife, her mother and their daughter Betty, stayed with us. In addition, my father's brother had nowhere to go, so he came to be with us, with his wife and two children. When my father's sister came to visit us with her family (husband and daughter) all communications were suddenly forbidden in the region because of the fight, and one could not even walk upright in the street. So they also stayed with us. There was no running water, so we used the dirty water of a cistern we had in our garden to water the flowers. A bullet entered the room of the
mathematician's old mother in law. Instead of marbles, I played with my
cousins with spent copper shells. We could find them everywhere. We couldn't leave the house to buy essentials, so we ate what we had at home and fortunately there were vegetables growing in the garden.
When all was over (several months), we regained tranquility. The following few years were the best period of my youth, though I can't deny that I enjoyed the adventures all along.
I was sent to primary school and excelled in mathematics. My father could not regain his store or merchandise nor did he receive any compensation for the loss. He tried several small businesses, but did not succeed. For a period he was a paid senior officer of the Boy Scouts Organization (he had been a boy scout in Istanbul and had good friends). The wealth of my great grandfather, Nessim Behmoiras, was keeping us alive and happy. I took advantage of the boy-scout opportunity and went with my dad camping whenever he did.
We had a maid called Kalliopi, who was from Egypt. She kept telling me stories about golden treasures, golden chariots and golden canopies. We all laughed at her fertile imagination. Only much later, when I studied Egyptology, did I realize that this poor old woman was telling the truth, and that she had witnessed the grand event of the discovery of Tutankhamun’s tomb.
My parents decided that I should go to the best school in Athens, for my further education. It was the "American College for boys". This was the institution that forged my personality and gave me the best education one could get. Half of the courses were in Greek, the other half were in English. There were obligatory singing lessons where, alongside with Greek patriotic songs I memorized: the American National Anthem, America the Beautiful, O Columbia the Gem of the Ocean, etc.
When my father realized that he could not find a permanent employment, and became convinced that I stood a better chance of success in Israel, he took the bold decision to leave for Israel with the entire family. He sold the house, which he was very proud of, and bargained in advance with a partner to open a small shop of household appliances in Tel Aviv.
So, on September 1951, we sailed in the Italian ship Filippo Grimani to Haifa. On board the ship I ate bananas for the first time in my life. I was 13 years old, after Bar Mizvah, which I celebrated in the synagogue of Athens.
Here I was, a boy of 13+ born in Greece, of Turkish parents, of Italian citizenship, whose mother tongue was French and education American, a newcomer to Israel.
New language, new flag, third national anthem, different ideals, no friends, different clothes, different climate, different food, no anti-Semitism.
A first cousin of my mother's had arrived with her family few years before from Bulgaria. They had fled communist persecution. They had two daughters I had never met: Mary (17) and Rosy (11+). The father was a pharmacist. My mother had not seen her cousin for 30 years. They had spent their early youth together in Galata. These cousins received us with warmth and helped us out in every possible way. Rosy was to become my wife.
We bought a small apartment in Givatayim. My father opened his shop in Tel-Aviv.
My grandmother’s German education at Edirne proved invaluable. She became the spokeswoman of the family, since most officials everywhere
spoke Yiddish. She found for me the best school in the region.
I was accepted to the 9th grade at the Ramat Gan Municipal High School
The integration among my classmates was immediate.
I left behind Marathon, Thermopylae, Parthenon, Herodotos and Thucydides, trying to make room for Jerusalem, Massada, Tel-Hai, Herzl and Bialik, Talmud and falafel.
I could cope with most subjects, but high school Hebrew literature, Bible studies with various intricate interpretations of the scriptures, and particularly Talmud, were hard for me to absorb during the first year.
Most youngsters of my age were members of different youth groups. Some, including myself, preferred a pre-military organization GADNA. We studied communications, which prepared us for the signal corps. This was instead of summer camps and mid-year vacations. In the camp where we trained, there was a powerful Radio Amateur station. I loved to work at the station and chat with people all over the world.
In the army, 1955-8, I served in the Signal Corps.
Then I went to the Hebrew University to study Physics Chemistry and Mathematics. I hired a room in Mea Shearim, Jerusalem. After three years of studies I found out, the hard way, that I was not made of the stock exact scientists are made of. Physics and Chemistry were OK, but some courses in Mathematics were simply impossible. I did not obtain a diploma though I completed my studies in Physics and Chemistry. The Jerusalem period had, however, its benefits. I fell in love with the city. I obtained a teaching license. I came to know Rosy better (she studied Pharmacy in Jerusalem, after her father) and she was, and still is, all one could wish for. I absorbed much of the logical thought and discipline of the exact sciences.
The year was 1960 and we were married. I was given a teaching post in a Tel Aviv high school. I taught Chemistry, and I liked it. I was a good teacher and good educator but a mediocre chemist.
Then our daughter Rachel was born and Rosy got her Pharmacy diploma. We bought a tiny apartment in Givatayim, but after a while we moved to Tel Aviv.
In 1966 I decided that I should have a university degree after all. This time I chose the Tel Aviv University, and went for Egyptology. I knew that you can't get rich with Egyptology, but I liked it, had a steady job, and Rosy thought she would be able to keep her father's pharmacy after he retires. I was 29 years old, a little bit late for starting a new career.
I fell in love with Ancient Egypt and its mysteries. I studied the languages (Hieroglyphic script, Hieratic and Demotic, and Coptic as well), Egyptian Art, History, and archaeology. In some language courses I was the only student. I managed to study while keeping my full time teaching position. I did very well and obtained BA and MA degrees. In the meanwhile Rosy's father passed away and we had our second daughter, Yael Esperance. The pharmacy was
sold and Rosy was employed in a private pharmacy.
When Sinai was in our hands, I participated in many seasons of research at a marvelous ancient Egyptian mining region there (mines of turquoise), where
besides the mines themselves the Egyptians had constructed a complex temple to their goddess of turquoise, with hundreds of monumental inscriptions, sculpture and other finds.
For my PhD the university sent me to Chicago.
The University of Chicago is the most prestigious institution for Egyptology. I could not refuse the proposition. So I took my family and left for Chicago. On our way we spent a week in Athens with cousins, and another in Paris. In New York, I was surprised by a fellow Egyptologist who obtained for my family and me the means for spending 10 days in the city, in a beautiful Brooklyn hotel.
Chicago was a most powerful and fruitful experience for me and my entire family.
I learnt to live in a cosmopolitan university environment (Hyde Park).
I learnt that one could smile at you without feeling anything special towards you.
I understood that when your professor says that your paper was nice, he means that it was bad.
I found out that if you cannot drive you have to stay at home, so I learnt how to drive.
I met, for the first time students that do not cheat in exams, do not share their results with their fellow classmates, are apt to place a library book in the wrong shelf to have it just for themselves. I experienced, for the first time competitive studies.
I also realized how little I knew on Egyptology, and how much this excellent school could and was willing to invest to make out of me a really good Egyptologist.
I liked the city very much: its towers, its museums, its opera, its shopping centers, its restaurants, its elevated train, its expressways, its zoos, its pace of life.
Rosy found employment as assistant pharmacist and worked in several hospitals. Then she was offered a much better salary as kindergarten and first grade teacher at the Akkiba-Schechter Jewish School of Hyde Park.
We made a few trips to the Southeast (Kentucky, Georgia, Florida) to the East (New York State, Washington DC) to the West (the Dakotas, Yellowstone) to the Midwest (Indiana, Wisconsin, Michigan). We were close to a tornado storm, experienced a fire which menaced to burn down our house and we had to evacuate all our belongings, we had a light bulb in our veranda which was being regularly shot at by an unknown neighbor, Rosy's handbag was snatched away from her and she pursued the thief along the train rails for quite some time, until he dropped it and ran away.
We learned the commodity of car-pooling, the need to drive and accompany our daughters wherever they went, and the warmth of mutual aid among Israelis. We experienced religion much more than we ever did in Israel.
I was offered the opportunity to earn some good money by reading Hebrew texts of Ephraim Kishon with a small group of Hyde Park Jewish emeritus university professors.
I made some excellent American friends, I talked a lot with Yugoslavian janitors, I learned all about Mormons from a Mormon fellow student, and about Viet Nam from another.
I was there and followed closely the entire story of the Watergate incident and the resignation of President Nixon. I understood the mechanism of democracy at work.
The Chicago experience was fascinating. I did not encounter any anti-Semitism, I had the most learned and willing professors one could wish for, I was given the opportunity to lecture at the Oriental Institute on my work in Sinai.
My daughters spoke English better than Hebrew and Rachel graduated at the Akkiba-Schechter, and then went to the Whitney Young Magnet High School. Rosy's mother came to stay with us for a whole year, and she enjoyed her stay very much.
We stayed in Chicago from mid 1973 to mid 1976. I was called back to Israel before I could complete my thesis, because a teaching vacancy presented itself at the Tel Aviv University. I have been teaching Egyptology ever since.
I also obtained a teaching post at the Art Teachers training College. I have been teaching Egyptian Art there ever since. I got my PhD from Chicago in 1980, and published a book entitled "Living in a City of the Dead". I specialized in the community life and various activities of the workmen who built the royal tombs in the Valley of the Kings (Luxor).
When I started my Egyptology studies in 1965 I had no reason to believe that I would ever be allowed to visit Egypt. My teachers' only words of consolation were that just as astronomers do very well even without visiting the stars, so can I become an excellent Egyptologist without being in Egypt. Only after I was there, did I realize how wrong they were. I have been in Egypt more than 15 times, mostly with students. There is so much to see and understand in terms of remains from the Pharaonic Period (3000 years of civilization), that even though I have been almost everywhere, from Alexandria to Abu Simbel near the Sudanese border, there still remains much to see.
Unfortunately, real Israeli archeological activity in Egypt is still out of the question.
This is my last year of active teaching, but I hope to go on with research.
Rosy had been working for quite some time as clinical pharmacist in a major Hospital of Petah-Tikva, but as of 2000, she is retired.
