Many years ago when I was frequently wandering from place to place, from country to country, I thought I might become a travel writer. I carried many notebooks and pens and practiced describing whatever I saw. Most of what I described was people – people I met along the way. On buses, on unfamiliar crowded streets, in shuks and markets and trains. Seeing people is the main reason for me to do more or less anything – my personal mecca and medina.
I was in Oaxaca for a month or so in 1970, living on short rations ,eating from the market stalls. One day I came across an indigenous-looking woman serving knishes . Exact knishes--no kasha, but unmistakably, knishes. I later read that there was a 17th (?) century Jewish community in that region. Does anyone here know about them?
I was in Oaxaca for a month or so in 1970, living on short rations ,eating from the market stalls. One day I came across an indigenous-looking woman serving knishes . Exact knishes--no kasha, but unmistakably, knishes. I later read that there was a 17th (?) century Jewish community in that region. Does anyone here know about them?
You are a poet of people. You harvest their stories. What a wonderful purpose!