Libmonster ID: KG-1202

Alanna E. Cooper

Rituals in Flux: Courtship and Marriage among Bukharan Jews

Alanna E. Cooper - Jewish Lifelong Learning at Case Western Reserve University (USA). alanna@kikayon.com

This article analyzes practices surrounding courtship and marriage among Bukharan Jews. It is based on historical research as well as ethnographic research carried out in the 1990s in Uzbekistan, and among immigrants (and the children of immigrants) in Israel and the United States. Rather than providing a description of wedding practices in catalogue form, the article show the ways in which such practices vary depending on historical and geographical context. Fieldwork in New York and Samarkand, for example, reveals great differences in the weddings in both locales: in the atmosphere, in the timing of the event, in who officiates, and in the sorts of people who are invited to attend. Despite these variables, ethnic entrepreneurs tend to portray Bukharan Jewish practices as static. Such depictions are part of a broader effort to capture and reify the culture of Jewish sub-groups (often referred to as 'edot in Hebrew). Furthermore, the effort to freeze culture in the midst of post-Soviet demographic upheaval, offers a sense of belonging to an authentic, rooted culture.

Keywords: Bukharan Jews, Bukharan-Jewish immigrants, Jewish customs, marriage, marriage rituals, courtship, engagement.

Перевод с английского по: Cooper, Alanna E. (2008) "Rituals in Flux: Courtship and Marriage Among Bukharan Jews", in Baldauf, I., Gammer, M., Loy, Th. (eds) Bukharan Jews in the 20th Century. History, Experience and Narration, pp. 187 - 208. Wiesbaden: Reichert-Verlag. Translation and publication rights granted by Dr. Ludwig Reichert Verlag Wiesbaden.

Cooper A. Ritualy v sostoyanii peremenei: svatovstvo i brak u bukharskikh evreev [Rituals in the state of change: matchmaking and marriage among Bukharian Jews]. 2015. N 3 (33). pp. 65-99.

Cooper, Alanna E. (2015) "Rituals in Flux: Courtship and Marriage among Bukharan Jews", Gosudarstuo, religiia, tserkou' v Rossii i za rubezhom 33(3): 65 - 99.

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Introduction

May 1997

On the LAST day of my research trip to Uzbekistan, I met with Marik Fazilov, director of the Bukhara-Jewish Cultural Center in Samarkand. He came to interview me for an article in a local Jewish newspaper, asked me about my dissertation, about the details of my professional career, and then asked the question that interested him most: What exactly did I learn about Bukharan Jews during my stay in Samarkand?

Looking for an exhaustive phrase, I mentally ran through my notes and thought for a long time. It was not easy to give Marik an immediate answer, because I learned first of all that it is much more difficult to characterize Bukhara Jews and their culture than I imagined.

I started my research in 1991, the year the Soviet Union collapsed. That summer, I went to Israel as a volunteer to work as a Hebrew teacher in Lod, an economically depressed city near Tel Aviv. On the eve of the first day of work, I imagined my students - I knew that they were all recent emigrants from the USSR - as long-lost cousins: these people might have been part of my family if my grandparents hadn't emigrated from Ukraine and Belarus in the early 1920s, just when they were just leaving the Soviet Union. The Soviet Union was formed.

When I met them, I was struck by how little they resembled my fair-skinned relatives, and their grandfathers in astrakhan hats and colorful clothes and grandmothers in exotic embroidered shawls looked nothing like my Eastern European ancestors. I once had a conversation with Miriam, one of the adult women I supervised, about her background and mine. That was before I started taking field notes, so I barely remember our conversation. However, I have not forgotten the conclusion that we reached at the end of the conversation: I am an Ashkenazi Jew, and she is a Bukharian Jew.

Through my association with Miriam and other students who were also exiles from Soviet Central Asia, I became accustomed to the abundance of Bukharan-Jewish synagogues, restaurants, schools, museum exhibitions, and theater companies in those New York neighborhoods.-

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Israel and Tel Aviv, where these migrants have settled. In an effort to learn more about them, I took on an ethnographic research project that involves working in different geographical areas. And now, sitting across from Marik seven years later, having already collected materials about Bukharian Jews living in Samarkand, Bukhara, New York and Tel Aviv, I realized that I still could not describe and characterize their culture in one short formula. On the contrary, the more I studied the world of Bukharan Jews, which has undergone unprecedented changes since the collapse of the Soviet Union, the more their complex culture eluded me. As a result, I told Marik only one thing that I had learned and was more or less sure of: Bukhara Jews and their culture are in a state of great change.

He was clearly disappointed with my answer. He wanted to know: is this what I came all the way to Uzbekistan for? He then complained that there were no ethnographic methods that systematically described Bukharian-Jewish cuisine, costumes, and customs, and asked why I hadn't focused my efforts on such a task.

Marik's question pointed out a difficulty that I, as a scholar, have long faced in writing for both Hebraists and anthropologists: popular ideas about Jewish subgroups (such as Yemeni Jews, Ethiopian Jews, Bukharian Jews) and the accepted anthropological theory of ethnicity and culture come into conflict in many important ways. conflict, complicating communication between them.

Studies on the Nuer of Sudan, 1 the Trobriand Islanders, 2 or the Navajo Indians, 3 published by cultural anthropologists in the first half of the twentieth century, focused mainly on describing and cataloging the culture of certain groups, including their ritual practices, production methods, technologies, costumes and cuisine. However, in the last few decades, these studies have undergone dramatic changes. Anthropologists have come to believe that soob-

1. Evans-Pitchard, E. (1940) The Nuer: A Description of the Modes of Livelihood and Political Institutions of a Nilotic People. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

2. Malinowski, B. (1929) The Sexual Life of Savages in North-Western Melanesia: An Ethnographic Account of Courtship, Marriage and Family Life Among the Natives of the Trobriand Islands, British New Guinea, New York: H. Liverlight.

3. Kluckhohn, C. (1946) The Navaho. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

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societies are imagined, traditions are invented, and social barriers are constructed, and they have stopped trying to describe the" matter " of culture, turning to the image of the transitory and conditioned by certain factors of the nature of identity, social barriers, material culture, behavior and worldview.4
As anti-essentialist notions of social barriers and cultural forms became more widely accepted, the terms "ethnic group" and "culture" were subjected to more and more careful analysis. Some have even argued that they are not significant units of study 5 at all. Although this position is still disputed, it is now almost universally agreed that anthropologists should focus on individual activity, diversity, and variability rather than describing homogeneous, cohesive, and stable groups.6
However, in relation to Bukharian Jews, these academic attitudes are largely irrelevant. Like the Marik, most of them continue to see themselves (and others) as a compact, easily identifiable ethnic group with a clearly identifiable culture. Of course, this is true not only for Bukharian Jews: booklets, museum exhibitions, magazine articles, music recordings, and folk-tale collections representing Ethiopian, Kurdish, Yemeni Jews, or the Veni Yisrael of India all follow the same model. In Israel in particular, the notion that there are certain Jewish ethnic groups (often referred to as Edot) is a strong and deeply ingrained concept.

This article is an attempt to navigate between these two approaches. It outlines the ways of the formation of the Bukharan state.-

4. This shift is marked by the publication of Fredrik Barth's book: Barth, F. (1969) Ethnic Groups and Boundaries. Boston: Little, Brown. See, in particular, the introduction.

5. См. Abu-Lughod, L. (1991) "Writing Against Culture", in Richrd G. Fox (ed.) Recupturing Anthropology, pp. 137 - 162. Santa Fe: School of American Research Press: Distributed by the University of Washington Press; Brightman, R. (1995) "Forget Culture", Cultural Anthropology 10(4): 509 - 546.

6. Cm. Gupta, A. and Ferguson, J. (1992) "Beyond 'Culture': Space, Identity and the Politics of Difference", Cultural Anthropology 7(1): 6 - 23; Marcus, G.E. and Fischer, M.M.J. (1986) Anthropology as a Cultural Critique: An Experimental Moment in the Human Sciences. Chicago: University of Chicago Press; Rosaldo, R. (1989) Culture and Truth: The Remaking of Social Analysis. Boston: Beacon Press.

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Jewish traditions in specific historical and geographical contexts, in which people who call themselves Bukharian Jews, but are now scattered all over the world, find themselves. In this part of the article, I apply what anthropologists call "process analysis": the approach that people are "not governed by clear, uniformly structured behavioral programs"7. Instead of simply following social rules, people, in this sense, participate in their creation, maintenance, and change, as they respond to the changing social and environmental environment in which they find themselves.

At the same time, this article traces numerous attempts to define and reify culture. The notion that there is a compact, clearly identifiable group called "Bukharan Jews" is widespread. Similarly, it is necessary to recognize that members of this social category are recognized by their common history and culture. In this part of the analysis, I recognize these assumptions and take them seriously. However, I do not believe that these attempts to describe and catalog Bukharian-Jewish culture create an objective and truthful picture. Rather, I see these descriptions themselves as products of human ingenuity, created and cemented together by process. Speaking to two cultural experts, Rivka Yitzhakova and Zhora Fusailova, I explore the approach and motivation behind such attempts.

Although culture covers a variety of areas - language, cuisine, costumes, holidays, social interaction, institutional life, and so on-I will limit myself to looking at one specific subject area: the rituals associated with matchmaking and weddings. These emotional, colorful life-cycle rites serve as a fitting metaphor in studies of both structural continuity and variability. Although the details of the study would have been different if I had focused on a different cultural aspect (such as mourning rituals or food prescriptions), the structure of the theoretical component would have remained the same. My goal is to offer a thorough description of Bukharan-Jewish culture. At the same time, I recognize the challenge of this attempt, especially given the period of profound changes that have taken place in recent years.-

7. Rosaldo, op.cit., p. 92.

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currently being massacred by Bukharian Jews. I will present a series of ethnographic descriptions that include data from my own field research, including specific information about the people who participated in it (with the exception of some details omitted for the sake of privacy).

In this regard, I should make a few methodological comments. As an anthropologist working among Bukharan Jews, I met almost no obstacles when I set out to take part in the daily synagogue services, attend regular training sessions, and regularly participate in community center activities. However, a wedding is an extraordinary event; it belongs to the private sphere, because it is opposed to the institutional sphere and is out of the ordinary course of life. This often frustrated my attempts to systematically observe and participate in rituals. It was difficult to predict when a particular wedding ceremony would take place, and even if I knew it was coming, it wasn't always possible to get an invitation or permission to attend. Thus, my research on wedding rituals was spontaneous and dependent on the randomness of my field research experience. Accordingly, I write in the first person. Drawing on a feminist and reflexive approach to ethnography, I offer not so much a complete and self-contained montage as a multi-faceted shot from private life. The result will not be the neat picture that Marik wanted, in which culture is limited and closed, but, on the contrary, a description of the intersections between social structure and human activity, between inherited traditions and innovative changes.

Rivka Yitzhakova

October, 1996

Sitting in Rivka Yitzhakova's kitchen, I assumed my usual pose: pen in hand, flying rapidly over my notes in an attempt to write down every word she said. "In the old days," Rivka said in Hebrew, " the wedding festivities used to last a whole week. Not like here in Israel, where it's all done quickly in a rented hall." On this mo-

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mente I obviously raised my head and met her eyes, and she continued:

On the first day, the threads of the veil are cut, which is given to the bride and groom for their wedding night. On the second day, the women gathered to prepare a table for the invited guests. The next rite, which was also attended only by women, was kosh chinon-plucking the bride's eyebrows.

I had a few questions about how these rituals work, but I didn't want to interrupt, for fear we might get off the subject. Neighbors and relatives visited Rivka all day, and she was ready to break off at any moment. While I had her attention, I wanted to make sure that she had finished describing the rituals leading up to the wedding.

Then it was the turn of kudo-bini-a holiday for all members of the bride's family and the groom's family to get to know each other better. After this event came domot-droron-the groom's drive. He and his family were invited to the bride's house on Shabbat. Then a mikvah [ritual ablution] was held for the bride. And finally, the wedding ceremony itself-kiddush. It ended with a party-a noisy celebration-at the groom's family home.

That was the end of our conversation about wedding ceremonies. I put down my pen, put away my notebook, and left the house with Rivka, who was going to visit the neighbors. Years later, when I reread her descriptions of the ceremonies, I wondered how she knew about this elaborate ritual sequence. Had she personally witnessed such events? Or had she only heard about them from her mother and other women of her own age? As one of my cultural experts, who helped me navigate the world of Bukharian-Jewish rituals with their stories, explanations, and translations, I didn't ask her any such questions. I was afraid it would be impertinent to ask. So Rivka provided me with descriptions, and I was content with that. I had met Rivka a few months earlier, shortly after arriving in the depressed area of South Tel Aviv where she lived , a haven for several thousand residents, most of them Bukharan-Jewish immigrants. Rivka organized weekly meetings of Bukharan-European students.-

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The Rae sorority, where I met her. I identified her as the leader of the group as soon as I stepped into the small audience of about thirty women. She stood facing the crowd, at the head of the assembly, and unlike the other women, who were dressed in loose floral dresses and colorful headscarves typical of Central Asian immigrants, she was dressed like a typical Jewish believer, whose origin is impossible to guess.

Most of the members of the sorority came to Israel after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Others arrived in the 1970s, during small eases in the migration restrictions of the USSR. These expats of the seventies perceive themselves as old-timers compared to those who arrived here in the nineties. Rivka, who moved to Israel in 1951, right after the state was formed, called them all "new".

Just like the others, Rivka was not born in the area once known as the"Emirate of Bukhara". Her mother, Batya, was born there, but fled there as a girl. Years later, matured, married father, mother of five children, gained fame among relatives and neighbors as a great storyteller. Of Bati's repertoire of biblical stories, Rabbinic legends and family tales, the most frequent was the story of the escape from Bukhara.

Batya, the youngest of several children, was born in 1916. She was bat zkunim, a late child; her mother died when she was still a child. Depressed by the death of his wife, Batin's father was unable to take care of his youngest daughter. Baruch, one of his older married sons, agreed to take in his younger sister and raise her.

According to Rivka, Baruch was a deeply religious man; his work was offering sacrifices and teaching religion. He taught his young sister to pray and told her rabbinic legends that she remembered and retold throughout her life. In 1920-1921. The Bukhara Emirate, where her family had lived for countless generations, was abolished by the Soviets. The territory was proclaimed a People's Republic, and then, in 1924, incorporated into the Uzbek Soviet Socialist Republic. From this point on, Baruch's situation became quite difficult, as the Soviets began to pursue a strict anti-religious policy. At about 1932, unable to hide from the Communists, who banned his religious activities, he fled.

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After a long and difficult illegal journey through dangerous territory, Baruch arrived in Afghanistan. There, he settled in Kabul, in a small but growing community of Jewish refugees from the Soviet Union. After a while, he straightened out the paperwork for his wife and young son to join him. Fearing, however, that his wife would go unaccompanied, he arranged for his younger sister, Batya, to be with them. After receiving a little guidance, she packed a few things and slipped out into the night before saying goodbye to her father and sisters.

After a long, grueling trip, Batya, her daughter-in-law and nephew slipped through the border and arrived safely in Kabul. Only upon arrival did the young and naive Father realize that she would never return home. She longed for the sisters who had stayed in Bukhara and whom she would never see again, lamented that she had left her mother's grave in Bukhara without paying a farewell visit, and longed to see her father again. Although the man she would later marry and the children they would raise together had been a comfort to her, she had never been able to cope with the sudden change that had robbed her of her home and all that was left behind. Rivka grew up listening to her mother's stories of loss. And I, in turn, heard them from Rivka, as if it was she who was suffering from the loss of her family and home in Bukhara.

Rivka's father, like her uncle Baruch, was a devout man who had fled the Soviet Union across the border to Afghanistan. He also shared vivid memories of Bukhara, which remained with him. The sights and smells of Kabul may have surrounded him physically, but in his imagination, Rivka said, he continued to wander the streets of Bukhara. He would gather his children and describe to them the courtyard of the house in which he had grown up, the path that ran from the house to the synagogue, its architectural features, and the Lyabi House, an open square that surrounded the city's pond and fountain, where children drank afternoon tea and played on long, hot summer days.

With a wistful note in her voice, Rivka often spoke of wanting to see the places her father had so often described. For almost two years, when she talked to me, she often told me about her planned trip to Bukhara. During this time, to ease her longing for her parents ' Bokharian-Jewish home, she established relationships with many Bokharian-Jewish emigrants. In particular, she worked with those who were experiencing difficulties, while-

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adapting to a new life in Israel. They came to spend the night with her until they found a place to live, and she cooked for them, went to the city council to defend their rights, and helped them find jobs.

Nevertheless, Rivka often became frustrated when dealing with new immigrants, whom she perceived as corrupted by the Soviet regime. They spoke Russian, a language she didn't understand, and although they "adhered to many of our traditions," Rivka told me, "the Communists squeezed almost all of their religion out of them." For this reason, she viewed the new emigrants as inauthentic, standing apart from the" authentic " Bukharian-Jewish culture of which her parents were carriers in the 1930s.

Not only did new immigrants pose cultural difficulties for her, but also her own children. The two eldest sons, whose spouses were not Bukharian Jews, showed little interest in the Bukharian-Jewish cultural activities in which Rivka was so deeply involved. Still, there was only one hope left for her: Dani's son. Not that he showed any signs of interest in studying and putting into practice his mother's cultural background; like other children, he had absolutely no interest in anything Bukharian. But he was single and had just broken off his relationship with his regular girlfriend when I started coming to see them. Rivka often talked out loud about how he and I could be together.

He, with his motorcycle, Marlboro cigarette T-shirts, and diamond polishing job, and I, always poring over books, lugging my laptop, interviewing elderly expats, couldn't have been a more unlikely match. But Rivka didn't want me to be Dani's wife so much as her daughter-in-law.

While Dani scoffed at my interest in Bukharian Jews, I frantically wrote down Rivka's family history and the customs and practices she told me about. From time to time, it seemed to me, she looked at me with regret, thinking that I could have done more than put all this information in a book. Perhaps I could revive the Bukharian-Jewish past that was taken away from her parents, and thus from her.

During my first conversations with Rivka, when I sat hunched over my notebook and wrote down her stories word for word-

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vo, I thought I was recording Bukharian-Jewish culture. When I imagined writing about wedding rituals, for example, it was as if I could see Rivka's words on the page. I would write, "Bukharan-Jewish weddings lasted at least a week," and then:

On the first day, the threads of the veil are cut, which is given to the bride and groom for their wedding night. On the second day, the women gathered to prepare a table for the invited guests. The next rite, which was also attended only by women, was kosh chinon...

However, as I will explain later in this article, traveling the world of Bukharan Jews and analyzing archival documents taught me that no one follows wedding customs so meticulously and never has. Similarly, when I established a relationship with Rivka and learned about her family history, I began to perceive her descriptions of weddings, mournful rituals, and celebrations not as a collection of abstract, static, and unrelated facts. For they are deeply intertwined with her personal history, with the losses experienced by her mother and father, with her desire for her daughter-in-law to continue her family history, and with her constant desire to cherish, define and preserve the memories of her parents ' past.

Stella Davidova

Autumn 1994

Although Rivka longed for Bukhara, the birthplace of her parents, her sense of loss was not typical of all emigrants. To show how different the attitude of Bukharan Jews can be to their abandoned homeland and culture, I will tell you about a woman who not only did not want to return, but fled as quickly as possible and as far away as possible from everything that had to do with the Bukharian-Jewish world.

Unlike Rivka, who has positioned herself as a cultural expert, with her thoughtful attitude towards defining and describing Bukharian-Jewish culture, Stella almost never spoke about Bukharian Jews in general, and when she did, her characterizations were harsh. "There's something you should know

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about the Jews of Bukhara, " she told me as soon as I met her. "They try to marry off their daughters when they're eighteen or nineteen. And they say that Bukharians should marry Bukharks." Her parents were like that: they had been insisting on Stella's marriage ever since she started high school, and they had instructed her that the groom should be, like her, a Bukharian Jew. But Stella grew up being brought up in a private school in the United States, with no special acquaintances among Bukharian Jews. She only kept in touch with her relatives, whom she considered simple, intrusive, and overbearing. She had a certain contempt for men. "Slugs talk too much nonsense," she said irritably,"they swear and drink too much alcohol." Like many of our conversations, this one was also conducted over the phone. Torn between her authoritarian, conservative-minded parents and a strong desire for American open multiculturalism, she was desperate for a like-minded person when I arrived.

I met Stella's family when I went to their home to deliver a letter for them from my recent trip to Uzbekistan. Their email address was listed on the envelope, but I took the opportunity to meet a family of Bukharan Jewish immigrants in person. Stella's father was pleased to receive a letter from his sister, and he, his wife, and mother-in-law warmly welcomed me. I started visiting them regularly. Each time I brought a notebook and question sheets with me, I tried to interview them about their life in Central Asia and their experience of resettlement. However, they didn't feel much like discussing these questions and preferred to respond in short, simple sentences, getting annoyed if I expanded on the topic.

Every time I visited them, Boris, his wife Rachel, and Adino's mother-in-law were only concerned about one thing: their wayward daughter (and granddaughter) Stella, who was still unmarried at twenty-five, had left home and rejected any attempts to meet the young man they hoped to marry I could get married. They wanted me to help her. "Talk to her," they begged me, " show her the right path. Tell her how her mother cries for her every night." In many ways, I was the most unlikely candidate to return Stella to the path of virtue. I was unmarried myself, older than Stella, and living far from my parents ' home. However, I had an advantage that they didn't have

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Bukhara rabbis and elderly relatives who had confronted Stella in the past: I had a deep respect for and understanding of Bukharian Jewish history and culture, even though I was an American. I was able, as Stella's parents hoped, to represent their Bukhara values, while drawing on the American experience and culture that Stella and I shared.

Whenever I visited them, they handed me Stella's phone number, which I politely took. They asked me to call her, but I never did. Our communication became increasingly focused on Stella until one evening when the tension became unbearable for Rachel, Stella's mother. Adino, Stella's grandmother, and I were sitting in the dining room, looking at a photo album, when Rachel got up from the table and went into the living room to make a phone call.

"Stella," I heard her say, " Ma am oca?" ("What are you doing?"), "she asked in Hebrew (Stella lived in Israel with her parents for eight years when she was a child: from 1978, when she was five, until 1986, when the family moved to the United States). Soon after this introduction, the drama began. Rachel screamed into the phone in a mix of languages - Hebrew, Russian, English, Bukharian. "Dump your black boyfriend! Find some Jew to marry! " she sobbed. And then all was still, except for Rachel's sobs. "Come home," she said softly through her tears.

I was sitting in the next room, across from Adino and Boris, who were silently staring at their hands. Shifting uncomfortably in my chair, which no one noticed, I jotted down a few notes. "I never expected this from you," Rachel screamed again, followed by more sobs, followed by a low whisper. " Do you know how many nights I haven't slept?" And then: "Please talk to that nice girl Alanna I told you about, she's at our house right now."

I was trapped. Frozen in the dining room, I considered packing up my notebooks and leaving, but when Rachel handed me the phone, I took it. "You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to," I blurted out. But she began to talk. In a flat voice and good English, Stella explained that her parents had told her about me. She wanted to know where I went to school and why I was doing research on Bukharian Jewish culture. I answered her questions, and we agreed to talk later, when her shift at the jewelry store where she worked was over.

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This was the first of a series of meetings in which she shared with me her experiences as a child in three different countries - Uzbekistan, Israel, and the United States. She paid particular attention to the fact that her parents remained "in the old world", not realizing that she and her older brother were growing up in a new world.

According to her, everything could have been different if they had stayed in Israel. There she was surrounded by a large family and other Bukharan-Jewish immigrants living in the same area. Even if they'd moved to New York, it wouldn't have been so bad. "But why here?! "so far away from all our relatives," she would say rhetorically.

In a region where only a few dozen Bukharan-Jewish families are scattered across the vast metropolitan area, Stella was alone. Apart from her brother Gavriel, she knew of no other unmarried Bukharian-Jewish peer.

So when her family decided she was ready to get married, they started looking for a husband in New York. When Stella was a junior, her grandmother took the bus to Queens, where she stayed with relatives and told everyone about her granddaughter-an enviable bride. Stella had no desire to take part in this Bukhara matchmaking. Besides, she had a boyfriend (who her parents didn't know anything about) and wasn't interested in dating anyone.

However, unable to resist the pressure, Stella agreed to meet one of the young men her grandmother had found for her. He rented a car and drove around for several hours, accompanied by his parents, sister, and matchmaker. "They all came together," she told me, " because they married not just a guy and a girl, but whole families." After dinner, Stella and the young man went to a nearby shopping center. Looking through the shelves with things, she found the skirt she liked. He said the skirt was too short. She said she wasn't. "Well,"he said," that'll do for now." Stella was furious: "Like he thought he could change me if we got married." She explained: "In Uzbekistan, you go from one prison to another. First you have to do what your parents tell you to do, then you get married and you have to do what your husband tells you to do. Not me. I am free from prejudice."

After that walk, they both returned to the house, where the matchmaker simply clung to Stella, urging her to marry this guy. Stel-

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La wriggled out of the way, took her boyfriend aside, and spoke directly to him. She apologized for wasting his time, while she loves someone else, with whom she has been dating for about a year. She expressed the hope that he would understand that she had to keep this situation a secret from her parents and that she simply had the burden of going through the stages of the Bukhara matchmaking process. She ended her speech with a plea not to tell anyone.

When her parents found out her secret, a terrible scene broke out. "I'll never forget this...", Stella's voice broke. She packed her things and left the house without telling her parents where she was going. If they want to call her, let them call the jewelry store's number.

If Rivka wanted to preserve the Bukharian-Jewish culture of her parents ' past, which she idealized, then Stella ran away from it. Together, they represent two extreme perspectives on Bukharan-Jewish culture: for Rivka, it is a deeply traditional, beautiful and authentic aspect of her past, while for Stella, it is simply a relic of a vanished primitive world. I couldn't find out from any of them how the wedding actually took place. I should have turned to someone else for that.

Bukharan-Jewish Engagements and Weddings in America

Summer, 1993

The Queens neighborhood of New York, where twenty to thirty thousand Bukharian Jews live, is teeming with Bukharian-Jewish synagogues, newspapers, bakeries, restaurants and grocery stores, marriage agencies, and schools. One of my students at such a school, where I worked, was Anna. She emigrated to the United States with her family in 1991, exactly two years before I met her in her senior year. By the end of the school year, she was engaged to a young Bukharian-Jewish man who had emigrated to the United States in the 1970s. I went to her wedding and arranged to interview her a few weeks later. When I arrived at her new home, she greeted me in a yellow summer dress with polka dots and showed me around her modest apartment: a kitchen where water was boiling for tea, a bedroom where she giggled and showed off a large silk-covered bed,

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with lots of embroidered hearts and roses, and a small dining room-living room, where we sat at a table filled with plates of nuts, sweets and cookies.

After chatting for a few minutes, I told her that I would be interested to know about how she and Amnon met and got engaged, and asked if I could turn on the tape recorder. Smiling, she happily agreed and spoke.

Anna started dating soon after arriving in the United States. It looked about the same as in the description of Stella: dating through family channels, under the strict guidance of parents. Unlike Stella, Anna didn't mind it at all.

She met Amnon when his parents came to their home under the pretext of a friendly visit from distant relatives who had just emigrated. "I noticed that he was looking at me," she said. Shortly after this fateful visit, they came to them again with an official proposal. When Amnon entered the house, he greeted Anna and handed her flowers. "I was discouraged," she said, " but I took them and then set the table properly. Everyone sat down for tea and fruit, and I went to my bedroom." She continued:

I wasn't supposed to hear them in the other room, but I knew what they were talking about. My sister sat with me and we discussed whether I should marry Amnon or not. When his family was about to leave, I left my room to say goodbye. After they left, my mother said to me, " Meet him a few times. If you like him, you will marry him. If not, then no. It's your choice."

The next day, Amnon took Anna to the movies. "He bought me some popcorn, which I don't really like,"she said," but I was too shy to eat it." A few days later, Amnon called her and asked her to go out again. She agreed. "What would you do if you didn't want to go?" "I would say' I don't know ' and he would call back and my mother would pick up," she explained. "I wouldn't have told him that myself. His mother would have told him." However, in this case, Anna wanted to go. She agreed, and they went to a Chinese restaurant for dinner. Not knowing what to order, Anna asked if Amnon could help her choose something. And he chose. "I need this

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I liked it, "she told me," because I once went out with a guy who said: "Why not? Can't you choose for yourself?" "and made fun of me for it."

After several months of dating, Amnon told his father that he wanted to marry Anna. Agreeing that this was a good idea, his parents brought sugar and sweets to Anna's parents ' house, making a marriage proposal. Wanting to receive him, Anna and her family prepared baskets of sweetmeats, which they also took to Amnon's family. The next day, Anna's mother set an impressive table for about twenty family members to celebrate the engagement.

The way the couple got engaged is in tune with the story of Zhora Fusailov in the book Yahadut Bukhara8, where he describes Bukharian-Jewish customs associated with the celebration of holidays and rituals of transition to the status of spouses. In the section about the betrothal, Fusailov writes:: "After the families have reached an agreement [that the young people should marry], they gather at the bride's [parents'] house for a matchmaking dinner called shirinkhori-a feast of viands."

Fusailov then goes on to describe further preparations for the wedding, which begin only after an agreement has been reached. Here, his description differs significantly from Anna's experience. So, he writes:

The ceremony in which the bride shows her face for the first time is held during the groom's first visit to the bride's [parent's] home. A feast worthy of a king is held in honor of this event. [From then until] the wedding, the groom visits the bride's [parent's] home in the middle of the week... whenever the bride's parents invite him. Usually, he comes to the bride's house with a friend, so as not to feel lonely. He brings the bride a present, even though he doesn't see her, because as soon as he gets close to her house, she runs to hide. 9
Judging by this general description, the decision to marry is a formal one and is agreed upon between Yuno's parents-

8. Fuzailov, G. (1993) Yahadut Bukhara: Gdoleha u'minhageha [Bukharian Jews: Leaders and Customs]. Jerusalem: Ministry of Education and Culture.

9. Ibid., p. 223. This and all other translations from Fusailov's Yahadut Bukhara belong to me. - A. K.

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Shea and the girls. The couple has almost no say in this matter, and only after the decision is made, the matchmaking begins. The bride recognizes the groom through the gifts he sends and by his voice, which she hears through the door of her room. In reality, the relationship develops not between the couple, but between the groom and the bride's parents, who treat and entertain him. On the other hand, according to Anna's story, young people get the opportunity to spend time together to get to know each other personally before they get engaged.

Despite the fact that during the matchmaking process Anna was given the opportunity to make a final decision, she, like the typical bride described by Fusailov, played a passive role in key moments. However, unlike Stella, who rejected the traditional gender role imposed on her by her parents and boyfriend, Anna accepted it. She eats the offered popcorn even though she doesn't like it, and feels uncomfortable when the restaurant offers her to "choose something for yourself." She is comfortable with her mother speaking on the phone on her behalf, and she looks forward to her husband making decisions for her - at least on the lunch menu.

The matchmaking and engagement of this girl, who grew up in Central Asia and only recently immigrated, is very similar to the process described by Fusailov. But they are complemented by her experience of living in America and the fact that she grew up in the modern Soviet era.

Anna's wedding ceremony also contains both elements that can be called American and modern, and elements that can be classified as Bukharian and traditional. While participating in this event, I thought it would be easy to identify each of these elements as belonging to one category or another. The task, however, turned out to be more difficult.

The wedding took place in an American Conservative synagogue, and the ceremony itself took place in a room decorated with flowers and chiffon in a style that was not very different from the decoration of the halls where many of my Jewish friends ' weddings were held. Guests slowly entered the hall, which was set up a chupa (wedding canopy), and when most of them were seated, a man appeared on stage with a microphone. He announced the beginning of the ceremony, which took place in a style I had never seen before on a quiz show. It started when in the back side of the-

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a small curtain rose from the sanctuary and revealed the bride and groom's relatives. The guests in the audience turned to face them and applauded deafeningly.

The pop nature of the ceremony became even more apparent as the family members filed down the aisle. The host of the ceremony introduced everyone by name, indicating a family connection, to which the audience responded with applause. One by one, the family members moved to the front of the room until about forty people were standing around the wedding canopy, moving freely and talking.

The ceremony itself included the reading of the ktuba (marriage contract), during which an atmosphere of ease also prevailed. The American rabbi stopped and demanded silence from the guests. The noise level dropped a little, but then began to increase again, until it reached such a point that the rabbi once again had to demand silence. After the qtubah, he recited sheva brachot (seven blessings), and then a glass was placed under the groom's feet. He smashed it, which meant the ceremony was over.

At this point, I quickly took stock of what I was seeing: aspects of the ceremony that were familiar to me were classified either as "Jewish" (such as the rabbi's recitation of the Ktuba and Sheva Brachot) or as American (such as the flowers and chiffon adorning the sanctuary). Whereas all the unfamiliar aspects of the ceremony (such as the large and noisy crowd around the wedding canopy) I classified them as"Bukharian".

However, my assessment was rather dubious. During the festivities that followed the ceremony, I found one of Anna's classmates and discussed with her the event I had just witnessed. I asked if this wedding was similar to one of the ones she attended in Uzbekistan. She told me that she had never been to a wedding before emigrating, because unmarried people were not allowed to attend. Everything she knew about the ceremony, she learned from her parents: the ceremony was held late at night at home, in the presence of only a few very close relatives of the 10 family.

10. See below, as well as Yaakov Roy's article: Ro'i, Y. (2008) "The Religious Life of the Bukharan Jewish Community in Soviet Central Asia after World War II", in Baldauf, I., Gammer, M., Loy, Th. (eds) Bukharan Jews in the 20th Century. History, Experience and Narration, pp. 57 - 76. Wiesbaden: Reichert-Verlag.

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In his book, Fuzailov also gives a third description of the religious wedding ceremony: the groom is brought to the bride's house, where the ceremony is performed; there he is greeted to the sound of a drum and singing, and a bonfire is lit in his honor; the afternoon prayer is said; before dusk, the bride - with her face covered - is brought by several worthy guests who sit her down next to the groom; after that, the marriage is considered perfect 11.

In view of the serious discrepancies between these two descriptions and the ceremony I saw myself, I began to doubt whether there was anything "Bukharian" about Anna's wedding at all. And what does "Bukharian" even mean? - I began to think later. When I was planning my trip to Uzbekistan, I was hoping for a chance to attend a wedding there, away from American influence. But what I found was Soviet influence.

Kosh-chinon and kudo-bini ("plucking eyebrows" and "meeting your spouse's relatives")

April, 1997

If it was not difficult to find those among Bukhara Jews who immigrated to the United States and Israel who were willing to discuss matchmaking and marriage, then in Central Asia they do not even think about it.

When I first visited the region in 1993, more than half of the Bukharan Jews who lived in Uzbekistan and Tajikistan in 1989 had already emigrated, reducing their numbers from about 45,000 to 20,000. This number continued to decline over the years, so that by my ninth trip to the region in 1999, only a few thousand remained. This dramatic relocation has left many feeling devastated. There wasn't a single person who didn't have a son or daughter, a brother or sister, an aunt or uncle emigrate, and everyone wanted to discuss whether they should leave too, and if so, where. As they watched their community and community life crumble, few sought to start a new family.

Marriage in Central Asia at that historical moment was not only associated with existential anxiety, but also put people on the wrong track.-

11. Fuzailov (Fuzailov. Yahadut Bukhara, p. 224) also mentions in passing that there are those "who perform the rite in secret, in the presence of only ten people".

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be a pragmatic choice. When thinking about the possibility of marrying and marrying off their children, parents had to take into account the fact that new relatives might move somewhere far away and take their children with them. Nineteen-year-old Misha, for example, longed for the girl he passionately wanted to marry. Misha's older sister had already immigrated to Israel, where the rest of the family planned to move, while the parents of the girl who was the object of his passion were waiting for their relatives in New York to issue immigration documents for them. No parent would ever consider marriage between their children possible.

For me, all this meant that it was very difficult to find weddings to attend in Uzbekistan. When I was able to learn about three weddings in the course of my research, I was faced with the following problem: my efforts to attend a number of events that Rivka Yitzhakova told me about and Zhora Fusailov wrote about in Yahadut Bukhara were in vain due to various unforeseen circumstances, as well as due to the changing nature of the ritual process. For example, about one of the weddings (described below) I found out from the bride's cousin. With his help, I was able to visit the festivities that were held in the bride's house, but not those that were held in the groom's house. In addition to the subtleties of relationships that I discovered, there were also general social rules that made it easy to get an invitation to some wedding celebrations and made it difficult to get invitations to others. For example, kosh chinon-eyebrow plucking-was conceived almost as a social event for women who could come to use the services of a cosmetologist themselves. On the other hand,Shirinkhori-the engagement sweet-eating festival-is a private event attended only by close relatives. Finally, there are the festivals mentioned by Rivka and Fusailov that are simply no longer held. The ritual of immersing the bride in a mikvah (a pool for ritual ablution) has fallen out of use, while other types of celebrations have recently become widespread - for example, the custom of celebrating civil registration of marriage in the registry office.

One of the weddings in which I was able to attend two festivals was the wedding of nineteen-year-old Irina and twenty-one-year-old Yisrael. Both were born and raised in Bukhara. Their ce-

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They had known each other for many years, both had their immigration papers ready for Israel, and this helped facilitate the couple's wedding. I didn't know either the bride or groom, but I was on friendly terms with Albert, Irina's cousin. He was a member of the youth club in Bukhara, whose events I often attended, and tried to help my research, just like the rest of the group. He was particularly helpful in telling me about my upcoming wedding and getting permission from his aunt and uncle to take me to two of the holidays.

The first was kosh chinon, an eyebrow-plucking ceremony I'd heard about many times before. This ritual was often mentioned by immigrants when I asked them how the customs of Bukharan Jews differ from those of other Jews. Bukharan-Jewish girls, I was told, are forbidden to pluck their facial hair. Many have dark, thick hair that is visible above the upper lip and between the eyebrows, serving as a sign of girlhood; only when they get married, they are allowed to remove it. Thus, the holiday of Kosh Chinon is not only part of the bride's practical cosmetic preparations for the wedding, it also marks an important step in her transition to the status of a woman.

According to Zhora Fusailov and Rivka Yitzhakova, Kosh Chinon is followed by the bride's immersion in a mikvah. The close proximity of these two events suggests that hair removal may indicate the practice of cleansing the body before immersion in ritual waters. On the other hand, in Central Asia, this custom is not unique to Jewish brides. Uzbek and Tajik brides, like Jewish women, do not remove facial hair before marriage and do it for the first time shortly before the wedding. This suggests that this practice is not related to any specific religious traditions. From the point of view of local customs, facial hairs serve as a sign of belonging to the world of girls, which is still close to nature and marginalized for society. As soon as girls get married, they become women, enter the adult social world and comply with its requirements. Kosh Chinon thus represents this transition.

Late in the morning, when I arrived at the bride's parents ' house, where the celebration was to take place, there were only a few women in the courtyard. We drank tea and tasted the food spread out on the tables. The keyboardist was setting up his equipment, and some of the women were playing the doira (central-

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asian tambourine) and they sang. Just after noon, the wedding participants arrived: Irina, dressed in a white dress, Israel in a black suit and their close relatives. They set fire to the logs piled outside the courtyard gate. Before entering the house, Irina and Yisrael circled the fire to the accompaniment of music and songs - a tradition that goes back to ancient Zoroastrian influence, followed by both local Muslims and Jews.

The guests were approximately 80 people, most of them women, as well as about a dozen and a half close male relatives, including Yisrael, his father, Irina's father, and several uncles and cousins. Despite the fact that such events, as I was told, were previously attended only by women, now it has become permissible for some men to attend them. Given that this event was a continuation of the celebration of civil registration, it was logical that the men who were present at the registry office could safely proceed to the next celebration. In addition, at the cultural level, the Soviet government established many practices that destroyed the traditional social divides between men and women, and after three generations of living in the Soviet Union, the concept of a purely female holiday that men were forbidden to attend became somewhat archaic.

Food was served, music was playing, and women were dancing. Irina's father spoke into the microphone: "We are celebrating the creation of a new family. We wish the bride and groom a lot of happiness and a long life together." At that moment, trays of small glasses of sweet tea were being passed between all the guests. "It's to make their life together sweet," Albert said, passing me one of the drinks.

After a couple of hours of celebration, Irina left the courtyard and went home. There, she changed out of her white dress and came out in a shiny silk dress made of colored national Uzbek textiles. Since it is common for Uzbek and Tajik women to regularly wear such dresses, Jewish women do not wear such clothing outside of the ritual context, but wear it when they participate in customs common to the peoples of this region.

The music grew louder, and one of Irina's relatives escorted her to a place in the middle of the courtyard. The beautician approached her, and the women gathered around her. Men present

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they dispersed around the perimeter of the courtyard, paying little attention to the actions of the women.

The beautician wrapped a scarf around Irina's head, powdered her face, took out a thread and got to work. She moved from side to side, toward Irina and then away from her, turning the thread and tightening it, removing the hair between her eyebrows, above her upper lip, and on the sides of her face. While the cosmetologist was working, Irina's relatives turned around, standing behind her. One by one, they held her head, prayed for her, and then placed a few bills in her scarf, which they would later get for the beautician as payment for her services. Several men, including Yisrael and Irina's father, also turned to hold Irina's head. When the trial was over, Irina - pale and trembling - went into the house to change into a different wedding dress, symbolizing the change in her status, and then returned to the guests, where the celebration continued.

At the end of the holiday, Yisrael returned to his parents ' house, while Irina stayed in hers. Although the couple had married earlier that day under state law, the religious ceremony had not yet taken place. While the kosh Chinon celebration, filled with treats, drinks, dancing and toasts to the new couple, was a continuation of the ceremony at the registry office, the couple's relatives and friends still did not consider the wedding complete.

The next day, the celebrations at Irina's house continued. I stopped by in the afternoon and talked to Irina's mother and relatives, who had spent the entire day preparing for the holiday. Like kosh chinon, it was to be held in the courtyard of their home. Instead of using Hebrew terms to describe the event - such as kudo-bini (meeting of the spouse's relatives) or domot-droron (entrance of the groom) - they described it simply as a wedding. I have often heard this Russian word, which is used by Bukharian Jews mainly to describe one of the various parts of the wedding cycle.

Tables set up around the perimeter of the courtyard and the balcony surrounding the courtyard were filled with light drinks, large cakes and flat bread, a variety of salads and sweets. Long seating benches were covered with brightly colored padded bedspreads, and a table was set up at the head of the courtyard, prepared for the bride, groom, and groom's parents to sit facing all the guests. Being the owners, Irina's father and mother should not have sat down,

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and to meet guests, make speeches, bring food and dance. A thick red carpet was hung at the table of honor, a decoration designed to enhance the festive atmosphere. Nearby, several men were standing on stepladders, setting up an electric flashing sign with a glowing image of a bottle of champagne and the words in Russian: "Congratulations to Irina and Israel."

Guests began to flock to the courtyard by 7: 30 p.m., and the bride's parents greeted them as they entered. At this time, Irina was sitting in the house, waiting for the solemn exit with Israel and his parents. By 8:30, about 140 people had arrived. They were standing in the courtyard, talking and helping themselves to food from the tables that had been set up.

This communication was suddenly interrupted by the loud sound of trumpets and drums coming from the street. Guests spilled out of the courtyard and into the street to watch the arrival of the groom and his family. Three or four musicians-all young Muslim boys in bright red suits and on stilts - entertained the audience while Yisrael's mother went to the house to fetch Irina. Once out, they crossed the courtyard and made their way to the firewood piled just outside the gate. The bonfire was lit, and Irina, along with Yisrael and his parents, danced around the fire, while musicians surrounded them and guests watched from the sidelines. Then a group of four people - Yisrael, his parents, and Irina-entered the courtyard and took their places at the main table as guests of honor.

This choreographed entrance meant that the bride now joined the groom's family. According to the patrilocal settlement models adopted in Central Asia, many women actually move into their husband's family home after they get married. This move was symbolized by the fact that Yisrael's mother took Irina out of the house where she grew up and brought her outside. On the street, outside her parents ' yard, Irina is now joining a new family. Then they all come in together and sit at the main table as guests of honor, which means that Irina no longer belongs to her parents ' house, but is in it as a guest.

In his book, Fusailov describes the celebration of kudo-bini, which is held in the bride's house. When the groom's family arrives, Fusailov explains, a bonfire is lit, heralding the meeting of the two parent couples. In his description of domot droron, this celebration is also held in the bride's home and means greeting.-

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go of the groom in the house of the bride's family. Some of the events I attended - the ones that took place at Irina's house-largely corresponded to these descriptions, but none of these terms were used to describe them.

Perhaps these two festivals, which used to take place as two separate small events, were combined into one in order to save money and a huge amount of time and effort spent on preparing such an event. Or maybe Fusailov's kudo-bini and domot-drron are not two separate events, but two types of transitions that Bukharian Jews consider central to the wedding process. They understand that the union of the bride and groom can take place only after the parents officially meet and agree on the union. In the same way, the bride's parents agree to give their daughter to the groom only after they meet him and welcome him as a guest, making it clear that she goes to him with honor. Thus, it is not necessary to hold two separate celebrations to mark these two events. Instead, Bukharan-Jewish families can - and always have-choose from a wide range of symbolic elements to make sense of and express each of these crucial transitions.

Finally, when comparing the ethnographic description presented here with those of Zhora Fusailov and Rivka Yitzhakova, it is important to distinguish between Soviet, Central Asian, and Zoroastrian influences. Fusailov and Yitzhakova ignore these factors, presenting various wedding customs not as Bukharian or Jewish, but simply as "Bukharian-Jewish". In fact, the wedding practices of Bukharan Jews are shaped by both the Jewishness and the broader Bukharian cultural context in which they find themselves and which today consists of a mixture (among other ingredients) of Muslim, Zoroastrian, Persian, Soviet, and Jewish influences.

In the case of the two events described here, the Soviet influence is particularly strong. Despite this, Bukharan Jews did not fully embrace Soviet culture, abandoning their own. As part of a large-scale initiative to modernize Central Asian peoples, the Soviets created a festive marriage ceremony in the registry office, which was supposed to replace many local rituals. However, local traditions proved to be so viable that the abandonment of the rituals common in the pre-Soviet era did not occur: the celebration in the registry office

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it was simply integrated, as one of a long series of events, into a Bukharan-Jewish wedding.

Kiddush

Summer 1994

After attending the two celebrations of Irene and Yisrael's wedding, I hoped to be present at the kiddush, a religious ceremony that the rabbi was supposed to perform. However, I knew that my chances were slim. I asked Albert and some other relatives when the kiddush ceremony was to take place, but none of them seemed to know. One day passed after another. I asked around, but I didn't get a response. On the third day, when I saw Albert again, he told me that kiddush had taken place last night. I wasn't surprised, though I was disappointed that I'd missed the ceremony. A few years earlier, I attended a kiddush ceremony, where I learned that it would be difficult, if not impossible, for me to attend again.

The only time I managed to do this was in 1994, when I was traveling to Uzbekistan with two filmmakers who were collecting material for a documentary. In Samarkand, we heard about the wedding that was going to take place soon, and got permission to shoot.

The celebration was scheduled for seven in the evening in the courtyard of the groom's family home. We arrived early, at a time when the groom was communicating with close relatives. Several others were sitting at tables, holding out lights and setting up music equipment.

After a while, the groom went to the bride's house, which is located nearby, and the guests began to arrive. When the music that the band was playing suddenly reached a crescendo, the chatter of the guests subsided, and it was announced that the bride and groom were coming. I ran outside with the crowd and watched as their car pulled up in front of the house. A small fire was lit in front of the front door of the house. The groom helped the bride out of the car, scooped her up in his arms and carried her around the bonfire while his family members danced in a ring around them and the fire.

The couple was met in the courtyard and escorted to a table. Food was served, vodka was poured, music was played, and the guests danced.

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From time to time, someone shouted "gorko" and, following Soviet tradition, the bride and groom kissed to the cheers of the crowd.

The hours of eating, dancing, and drinking were over. The kiddush ceremony had not yet taken place, and the rabbi was nowhere to be seen. I asked a few people when he was supposed to come, and they told me it was 11pm. However, eleven o'clock came and went, and the rabbi did not appear. The guests began to say their goodbyes and gradually disperse. The musicians gathered and left, and soon there were only close family members and us - Russian photographers and an American anthropologist. The tables were cleared, the tablecloths removed, and the colorful bedspreads removed from the benches. The remaining food was collected, and the women began to wash the dishes.

While waiting in the quiet courtyard, I talked to Sasha, our intermediary, who made it possible for us to attend the event. He explained that the groom divorced his first wife only a few months ago, and his fiancee was Russian, not Jewish. Sasha didn't know either of them very well, but in his opinion, the newlyweds were hardly a couple. Interethnic marriages were very rare in Central Asia, and he suspected that this was not a love match. Rather, he suggested, the bride somehow used the groom (who soon planned to emigrate) to go to America. Sasha went on to explain to me why we were the only guests left in the courtyard. As a friend of Anna's told me at her wedding ceremony, which I attended a year ago in New York, those who were not the closest family members rarely attended the kiddush ceremony. However, the wife's parents, who were not Jewish, did not know about this. So we were able to attend a Jewish - to some extent Jewish-wedding ceremony.

At one o'clock in the morning, when the rabbi finally arrived, he walked through the courtyard to the house, and a small wedding ceremony took place. He sat down with the bride and groom and discussed the religious marriage contract he had brought with him. When it was signed, the groom undid the buttons on his shirt and trousers and the zipper in his fly, while the wife's mother unzipped the back of her daughter's wedding dress. Sasha - who must have seen my raised eyebrows - leaned over and whispered, " I'm sorry.: "There should be no nodes, nothing closed, everything should be open." Unbuttoned, the couple got up and walked to the center of the room-

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They sat down on the quilt where the rest of the kiddush ceremony was to take place. Several relatives surrounded the bride and groom and held up the prayer shawl that served as the wedding tent. I, along with a few others who weren't holding a prayer shawl, was instructed to keep my hands held high above my head so that everyone could see that I wasn't crossing my fingers, indicating - again - that everything should be open.

During the ceremony, the bride's mother stood behind her, and the groom's mother stood behind him with a needle and thread. There were no knots on either thread, so when they ran a needle through the fabric of their children's clothing, it went right through without a puff. Again "there should be no nodes and everything should be open". The ceremony ended, the groom broke a plate, and one of the family members sang a Jewish folk song.

While we were packing our bags, Sasha explained to me that the kiddush ceremony is usually held quietly and late at night because of the risks associated with holding it openly and in public. First, it was dangerous during the Soviet era, as such religious ceremonies were forbidden. Secondly, they were afraid of envy, ill-wishers who could cast the evil eye. You could only trust close family members, Sasha explained, it was assumed that they would wish the couple only health and happiness. Even then, all the guests of the ceremony should keep their hands above their heads, and their fingers should be spread wide to show that they do not hold a grudge.

During the Soviet period in Central Asia, low mobility combined with a small number of interethnic marriages led to a large number of marriages between Bukharian Jews living in the same city.12 As a result, this marriage model has created tightly knit Jewish communities with weak social ties outside the respective city. Moreover, since the Jewish population in each city never exceeded several thousand people, after several decades, neighborly and friendly ties were closely intertwined with kinship. Everyone was related to someone else and was somehow involved in their affairs. In ta-

12. Based on a study of 113 couples. See Cooper, A. (2000) Negotiating Identity in the Context of Diaspora, Dispersion and Reunion: The Bukharan Jews and Jewish Peoplehood, pp. 247 - 248. Boston University (PhD paper).

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in a social context, there was no anonymity, and it was impossible to hide from the scrutiny of the community and family, from gossip and hostility, the risk of which was high, and the consequences were severe. So it is not surprising that an atmosphere of apprehension and threats surrounded the ceremony, which connected the bride and groom, as well as their families. As I thought back to Anna's crowded, noisy wedding in New York, I gradually realized how much social circumstances influenced my approach to kiddush. While in Central Asia kiddush is held quietly, only in the presence of a handful of the closest family members, in the new homes of Bukharan-Jewish immigrants-other concerns . In the United States and Israel, where old communal ties have been severed by the divisive model of displacement, the network of social ties has been stretched across vast spaces and stretched to its limit.13 In this context, people do not care about the consequences of close communication, in which relatives can often quarrel among themselves. On the contrary, they are afraid of losing the connections that serve as a powerful social guarantee and that these people had before immigration. Thus, weddings become an excuse to bring together relatives again, who are deprived of the opportunity to communicate closely. Moreover, the wedding allows you to introduce each other to the families of the bride and groom, who may not have known each other at all. The quiz show-style ceremony, where the host introduces each family member, aims to introduce guests to the new network of relatives they are now part of.

Zhora Fusailov

In this article, I reviewed six festivals from a series of Bukharian-Jewish wedding practices: shirinkhori-eating sweets, which represents an engagement; the civil wedding ceremony approved by the Soviet government in the registry office; kosh-chi-non-a celebration when the bride's relatives take part in arranging the hair on her face; the kudo-bini and domot holidays- droron, which are held in the courtyard of the bride's parents ' home and mark the greeting of the groom and his family to the bride's home; and kiddush, a religious wedding ceremony.

13. Cooper, A. (2000) Negotiating Identity in the Context of Diaspora, Dispersion and Reunion: The Bukharan Jews and Jewish Peoplehood, pp. 277 - 290.

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Each of these events is described by Zhora Fusailov in his book Yahadut Bukhara. This work, published in 1993 by the Israeli Ministry of Culture and Education, is divided into two parts. The first part contains bibliographic essays about some Bukharian-Jewish religious leaders, while the second part contains information about Bukharian-Jewish traditions related to prayer, holidays, and rituals of transition from one social status to another. In many aspects, this second part of the book is similar to the catalog of traditions that Mark, the director of the Samarkand Bukharian - Jewish Cultural Center, hoped I would publish. It provides a systematic ethnographic description of the Bukharan-Jewish culture.

Although my task was not to review Fusailov's book, I largely used it as one of the few publications devoted to Bukharan-Jewish wedding rituals. I compared his general descriptions with the individual events I observed. However, Fusailov's book is not the only work cataloging Bukharian-Jewish ritual practices. In fact, his view of matchmaking and weddings largely overlaps with the sections on the same topic in Baruch Moshavi's unpublished doctoral dissertation, "Customs and Folklore of Bukharian Jews in the Nineteenth Century." 14
Moshavi's work, written in 1974, details elements of various life-cycle rituals, including those associated with birth, betrothal, and mourning. He begins by discussing his research methodology, explaining that he has collected data from travel books and takanot (community statutes) that were written in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. In addition, he interviewed elderly Bukharian-Jewish immigrants in New York and Israel who might shed light on the rituals of changing social status in pre-Soviet Central Asia.

Although the content of Moshavi's dissertation and Fusailov's book largely coincide, the two works differ in that Fusailov does not contextualize his information. Moshavi explains that he writes about a certain region (Central Asia) and a certain historical period (XIX century).-

14. Moshavi, B. (1974) Customs and Folklore of Nineteenth Century Bukharan Jews in Central Asia: Birth, Engagement, Marriage, Mourning and Others. Yeshiva University (PhD paper).

page 95
against, writes in the present tense and does not give geographical coordinates, leaving the general audience (for which this book was intended) with the feeling that there is a certain "Bukharian-Jewish wedding" out of time and without changes.

Nevertheless, despite the lack of geographical and historical context, a critical and competent reader can determine that Fusailov's depiction of Bukharian-Jewish culture, like that of Moshavi, corresponds to Central Asia at the end of the 19th century. Is it legitimate, then, to use the descriptions of the Moshav, later presented by Fusailov as timeless, as a measure of Bukharian-Jewish culture? In other words, are the Soviet influence that was felt in Irina and Yisrael's wedding, and the American adaptation that I saw at Anna's wedding, distortions of some pure, true form?

I would like to conclude this article by stating that there is in fact no static basic form of Bukharian-Jewish culture from which deviations or changes within which can be identified. Although Bukharan Jews (like other groups commonly referred to as Edot ha-Mizrach - "Jews of the eastern lands") are often portrayed as having a long, static past in isolation and stability, in reality they, like everyone else, have never been aloof from the dynamic forces of history. Like other Jews, they have always lived under conditions of political, social, and economic change, have always interacted with their non-Jewish neighbors, and have never been completely isolated from Jews or Jewish influence in other parts of the world.

A brief review of events that took place at the end of the last century sheds light on how dynamic the situation of Central Asian Jews was at that time. When Russian forces invaded that region, Central Asia became an important source of raw materials and a vast market for manufactured goods. In this region, Jews who had long been skilled artisans and merchants with well-developed business connections quickly found their place in the new economy. Taking advantage of improved communications and travel conditions, as well as trade rights granted by the Russian government, they formed a class of affluent, well-traveled and cosmopolitan Jews. Among them were those who created a residential area for themselves in Jerusalem. I'll leave some of them-

page 96
build your own homes in Central Asia to live in Jerusalem permanently. Others continued to live in two houses, traveling back and forth for most of their lives.

A detailed examination of the takanotas that the Moshavi relies on reveals the formative impact that this dynamic historical context has had on ritual practices. In Takanot 1911, leaders of the Bukharan Jewish community created a Hebrew text calling for change, in which they addressed, among other things, the issue of weddings. They write:

The festivities called kudo-bini and all other related [activities] must cease. Celebrations should begin only one week after the chupa [religious ceremony], and only those closest to you should be invited. The festival called poitah, which is celebrated on Shabbat, should not be held, and the dowry should not be shown to either men or women, so that the [poor and] have-nots will not feel embarrassed. 15
These instructions read as a clear response to the changing consumption patterns among the newly emerging nouveau riche class. Community leaders understood that too many celebrations were being held, too much money was being spent, and the guest lists were becoming too large, leading to a clear and painful gap between rich and poor. Instead of simply following the common traditions adopted from their ancestors, the newly rich Bukharan Jews created a new, excessive celebration format. Therefore, the late 19th-century weddings were hardly a model of an authentic, static Bukharian-Jewish wedding.

However, Fusailov pulls this cultural cross-section out of the situation of dramatic changes and presents it as stable and timeless. This static image reappears in another book by Fusailov published by the Israeli Ministry of Education: "A Collection of Customs: from the Customs of the Tribes of Israel" 16. This book was written as a reference book designed to help teachers learn more about the customs of the Tribes of Israel.-

15. Reproduced in: Fuzailov. Yahadut Bukhara, p. 239.

16. Asher Varstil. (1996) Yalqut Minhagim: Mi Minhagyehem shel Shivety Yisra'el [Collection of Customs: from the customs of the Tribes of Israel]. Ierusalem, Ministry of Education.

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We are committed to teaching our students a wide variety of Jewish customs. In addition to descriptions, the book also contains prescriptions. It is a codification of practice written to encourage all nineteen edot (Jewish ethnic groups) to preserve the mingagim (customs) of their ancestors, which are at risk of being lost as a result of mass migration to Israel. In their current state of dispersion and discord, the authors emphasize, the customs of each eda can no longer be transmitted orally or through role models. To save them, you need to record them in writing.

Fusailov's project, both in his own book Yahadut Bukhara and in the text "Collections of Customs", is devoted to cataloging the culture of Bukharian Jews. This project serves two purposes: it presents Bukharan Jews as a small, well-defined group (eda) that can take a place next to other Jewish ethnic groups in Israel. In addition, it provides a list of traditions that Bukharan Jews, who have experienced a great rise and change in the last century, can rely on in an attempt to restore and preserve their indigenous culture, identity and past.

And here we return to the difficult conversation that Marik and I had on the evening of my departure from Samarkand in 1994. Watching the community around him disintegrate as the Jewish population of his hometown emigrated en masse, Marik longed to find a scholar who would record Bukharian-Jewish culture before it disappeared. This desire to freeze a culture that is on the verge of changing so radically that the next generation may not recognize it is also expressed in the words of Rivka Yitzhakova. Left with only the memory of her parents ' memories, she imagines, like Marik, some static basic form that she badly needs. Therefore, her descriptions, like those of Zhora Fusailov, can be considered as images of a reified, static culture, although in reality they are also products of human ingenuity, which were created and combined together gradually, in the course of changes.

Translated from English by Maria Khramova.

page 98
Bibliography / References

Abu-Lughod, L. (1991) "Writing Against Culture", in Richrd G. Fox (ed.) Recupturing Anthropology, pp. 137 - 162. Santa Fe: School of American Research Press: Distributed by the University of Washington Press.

Asher Varstil. (1996) Yalqut Minhagim: Mi Minhagyehem shel Shivety Yisra'el [Collection of Customs: from the customs of the Tribes of Israel]. Ierusalem, Ministry of Education.

Barth, F. (1969) Ethnic Groups and Boundaries. Boston: Little, Brown.

Baruch, M. (1974) Customs and Folklore of Nineteenth Century Bukharan Jews in Central Asia: Birth, Engagement, Marriage, Mourning and Others. Yeshiva University (PhD paper).

Brightman, R. (1995) "Forget Culture", Cultural Anthropology 10(4): 509 - 546.

Cooper, A. (2000) Negotiating Identity in the Context of Diaspora, Dispersion and Reunion: The Bukharan Jews and Jewish Peoplehood. Boston University (PhD paper).

Evans-Pitchard, E. (1940) The Nuer: A Description of the Modes of Livelihood and Political Institutions of a Nilotic People. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Fuzailov, G. (1993) Yahadut Bukhara: Gdoleha uMinhageha [Bukharian Jews: Leaders and Customs]. Jerusalem: Ministry of Education and Culture.

Gupta, A.and Ferguson, J. (1992) "Beyond 'Culture': Space, Identity and the Politics of Difference", Cultural Anthropology 7(1): 6 - 23.

Kluckhohn, C. (1946) The Navaho. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

Malinowski, B. (1929) The Sexual Life of Savages in North-Western Melanesia: An Ethnographic Account of Courtship, Marriage and Family Life Among the Natives of the Trobriand Islands, British New Guinea. New York: H. Liverlight.

Marcus, G.E. and Fischer, M.M.J. (1986) Anthropology as a Cultural Critique: An Experimental Moment in the Human Sciences. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Ro'i, Y. (2008) "The Religious Life of the Bukharan Jewish Community in Soviet Central Asia after World War II", in Baldauf, I., Gammer, M., Loy, Th. (eds.) Bukharan Jews in the 20th Century. History, Experience and Narration, pp. 57 - 76. Wiesbaden: Reichert-Verlag.

Rosaldo, R. (1989) Culture and Truth: The Remaking of Social Analysis. Boston: Beacon Press.

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