Racing to the Circassian Museum

Circassian Mosque in Rehania

A few months ago my friend, Yael, called to say she was planning to visit Georgia, no, not the state, the country. “”Why do you want to go to Georgia of all places?”, I asked for it’s not exactly a major tourist destination, especially not after the conflict with Russia in the summer of 2008. Although it’s calm there now, Georgia has always been an area of instability, with violence threatening to boil over. Georgia is situated between the Caspian Sea to the East and the Black Sea to the West, a corridor between Central Asia and Europe.  Those that controlled this passageway also gained from the commerce which passed through.

Yael told me that her friend Ina, whom she met in Tel Aviv University, is now working in Tbilisi establishing the laboratory ward in a new hospital. Being from Russia, Ina speaks fluent Russian, the state language in Georgia and has years of experience as a molecular biologist. This project was a new undertaking for her and under difficult conditions, being far from her family and friends, working grueling hours, and the added fatigue and stress of being pregnant.

When Yael mentioned she wanted to visit her friend of course I wanted to go with her, I admit not to cheer anybody up but simply to check out the food scene. My husband said that he would most likely be on a business trip at the same time and guess who would need to watch the kids? Oh, yes, how could I forget, although he makes a herculean effort to come on weekends which is not trivial flying from Oregon, he is still out of the country for most of the month. Several weeks later I called Yael to wish her a safe flight while sitting besides my……. husband?; he didn’t have to go after all.

“Why don’t you go with her if I am here?” he asked but the flight was booked, not surprising in the height of tourist season. I was bummed out.

“Let’s go to the north instead, it’s cool there!” he tried cheering me up. Yeah right, Israel is as big as a two by four; it’s not going to be noticeably cooler there. I was still bummed out, but I told him I wanted to go to the Circassian Museum in the village of Rihania, that’s the closest I could get to Georgia. Rehania was established in 1873 by dispersed Circassians who fled the Caucasus Mountains after Czarist Russia took control of the area and declared that any Circassian who remained would be sent to Siberia.  The Ottoman Turks absorbed them within their borders, including in Palestine but also throughout Turkey, Jordan, Syrian and Lebanon.  

It turned out to be a fun weekend; combining friends, a walk, an ancient water mill, a high speed car chase and a fascinating lecture of the Circassian people (I should thank my mother in law, Yehudit for recommending it). Although the Circassian people dream of returning to their homeland, Israel at least is a place where they can express their hopes without being persecuted. The curator of the museum said that when he studied Circassian folklore and culture in Turkey there was always the fear of retaliation for not assimilating into Turkish culture. He said that the Circassian people are learning from the Israelis. They developed their own website and will have an international Circassian culture quiz similar to the bible quiz that Jewish youth participate in. The winner of the Circassian trivia competition will win a scholarship to a University in the Caucasus.

I don’t know a lot about food from the Caucasus except from Paula Wolfert’s book, The Cooking of The Eastern Mediterranean and from a Jewish woman who worked as an assistant in a cooking course I took. When we learned how to make Chinese dumplings, Leora, who originally comes from the Caucasus (she called it Kavkaz) demonstrated how to fold them in an intricate overlapping pattern. Although Leora has never been to China, pot sticker dumplings are similar to what she used to make with her family in the Caucasus (known as khinkali) and are believed by some to be the origin of this type of dumpling.

At the village we did not eat a full lunch but tasted several examples of circassian foods including a cheese stuffed savory pastry, mild goat cheese and a spice mixture which the locals called za’atar but consisted of sesame seeds, ground walnuts and what appeared to be paprika. This left me hungry for more.

I feel that any visit to a museum deserves a certain level of respect, especially if it is a celebration of a people and their culture and I am embarrassed to say we came in looking like we were dragged through a dust storm.  The museum opens for large groups only and was already booked for that day at 2 o’clock but we were welcome to join. At 1:30 in the afternoon we found ourselves on the other side of the Golan Heights, wet and muddy from walking all morning in a spring.

I scanned the map.

 ”There is this brown road on the map which shortens the drive, and then it hits a white dashed road”

“What does the white dashed road mean?” my husband enquired.

“I don’t know, doesn’t say on the map”, perhaps it did but the map was falling apart.

We soon found out. We zoomed off riding like the Dukes of Hazzards completely obliviating our friend’s car in a tornado of dust. The paved road soon disintegrated into gravel with alarmingly large boulders scattered along the way. It was like being in a back road car chase, flying off ramps with my husband driving with the dexterity of a race car driver determined to get to the finish line, in this case the Circassian museum. We skidded into the parking lot and amazingly our friends were right behind us. Trying not to disturb the rest of the group of about thirty-five distinctly dry and very tidy retirees from Tel Aviv we slid into our seats in the back of the darkened lecture hall. The lecture lasted about 45 minutes and highly recommended for anyone interested in the unique history and culture of the Circassian people. It even held the attention of the children, or perhaps they were still shell shocked from the drive over.