Published: 21 May 2024
Last updated: 15 May 2024
One summer day, I went to talk with kids from a Jewish school in the centre of Berlin. They invited me to talk about my Mizrahi identity. As I was about to enter the school, which was guarded by a big silver fence, two German policemen told me to talk to a sun-tanned guy with black hair in English at the entrance.
We soon switched to Hebrew. I asked the Israeli guard if he was enjoying the sunny day. He told me that he didn’t enjoy being in Berlin. "Why?" I asked. He said he didn’t want to be there; he wanted to be back in Israel and fight for his land.
I entered the old school building, which had a big hall and white marble stairs leading me to the second floor. On the first floor, I saw Israeli news in English. On the walls hung pictures of Ben Gurion and other leaders, reminiscent of those I had seen at my school back in the day. I still pondered whether the Israeli security guard at the high school was directing his words towards me because I live outside of Israel.
Parents passed up the automatic registration for their children's local high school in favour of sending them to a school far from their place of residence, because it is protected by an Israeli guard, German policemen and a wall around it.
I saw a classroom full of happy children. I heard noise all over the building. I sat in the waiting room and read the Jüdische Allgemeine newspaper until the teachers approached me. We spoke about the running order of the upcoming event. One of the teachers then told me that the number of students in the school has significantly increased in the last year.
"Is it because of the refugees who came from Israel, because of the war?" I asked.
"No," he replied. "It's due to the lack of security that Jewish and Israeli students feel in other schools around Berlin”.





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