I started visiting Chile during that period and continued travelling there for a few years. During my first visit there was still shooting and bombing outside my hotel, in the heart of Santiago, the capital city, as well as in Concepción, Chile’s second largest city.
Chile is a predominantly Catholic country with a warm, Latin flavour. Its people are kind and good, family-oriented people, diligent and capable workers with a good ethical approach to life and moderately nationalistic worldview. Our trading was risky, but proved successful only due to the commitment and attention to detail of those involved.
One special fringe benefit of my regular trips to South America was that I flew in and out via Argentina, where my aunt, uncle and cousins live. I always spent my weekends with them, plus as many extra days as I could spare, working in Chile during the week. This has created for us all a treasured close personal bond, to this day.
On one particular trip I had to be in Chile when there were no possible flights to Argentina in time for Shabbat, nor were there any flights after Shabbat that would bring me back to Chile on time. I was constrained to stay over in Santiago for the weekend for the first time ever. Normally, I would have either made inquiries beforehand regarding the Jewish community and synagogues, or simply made my own arrangements for a Shabbat by myself. On this occasion, however, something unexpected – and very nice – occurred.
My friend Akos, a Catholic Argentinean of Hungarian descent living in Chile, had already taken matters into his own hands without even consulting with me. Akos had phoned and informed me that he had taken it upon himself to check out information for my Shabbat. There had been quite a strong Jewish community in Santiago before all the trouble began, he said, but most of the people had left for other countries. He had located a “temple” but thought that this was not for me. He had also found a newer organisation called “Jabad” (the South American spelling for Chabad, a Chassidic movement) which was located in a nice residential area in a suburb called La Gloria, and there was a motel I could stay in only a few hundred metres away. This was the place where I was to spend my Shabbat in Santiago de Chile.
Note that Santiago is on the opposite side of the Pacific Ocean from Melbourne, Australia. The same sun sinking into the ocean in the port city of Vina del Mar, heralding the end of one day and the beginning of another, is rising to illuminate the east Pacific coast of Australia.
Before leaving Melbourne, I had looked up the telephone number of Chabad in Santiago and late one night I phoned. A young voice answered in Spanish. After checking out a few possible languages, we agreed to speak in Hebrew. Young Rabbi Moishe immediately told me that they were very much looking forward to my visit and that I was invited to his house for Shabbat dinner on Friday night and by Rabbi Menashe for Shabbat lunch. I asked Rabbi Moishe if we could possibly check out the home situations first, to see if there was room and if my visit would not be inconvenient. His reply was instantaneous and warm: “Of course we’re expecting you!”
My flight landed in Santiago and standing there, waiting for me, was the smiling Akos. It was late Friday morning. Santiago was fresh and the air crisp with the white, glistening, snow-capped Andes mountains majestically looking down at us. It felt so beautiful. It was winter time and Shabbat was due to come in early.
We chatted as Akos drove me to La Gloria, to the hotel he had arranged for me. On the way, Akos circled the green-treed suburban side streets and pointed out “Jabad” only a few blocks from the hotel. I checked in, quickly set up my room and just as quickly returned downstairs to Akos. We drove off for lunch and then visited his office, before he dropped me back to my hotel in the mid-afternoon to prepare for Shabbat. We made arrangements for going to a big soccer match on Sunday afternoon.
No wonder I enjoyed doing business in Chile and loved each of my visits. Such a beautiful country with such wonderful people!
I ran up to my room, showered, shaved and dressed for Shabbat. Everything was organised. I was feeling relaxed and happy and free. I walked to Chabad, carrying a few presents, my tallith, siddur (daily prayer book) and Tanach to the shule. As I entered Chabad I was warmly greeted by a young Chabadnik who turned out to be the Rabbi Moishe I had originally phoned. We sat around and chatted. It was still early. I helped him set up for the Shabbat services. A few people started to arrive. I was introduced to Rabbi Menashe, who reminded me about the invitation to his house the following day.
A few minutes before the afternoon prayers, Rabbi Menashe addressed the few congregants. It soon became evident that most of them were visitors and only a few families were locals. Rabbi Menashe asked who spoke what language and it was decided that our lingua franca for this occasion would be Hebrew – the only common language of this group of Jewish people from all over the world, who made up this congregation in which we were to celebrate this Shabbat together as one warm extended family.
The prayers were uplifting. There was much singing.
After the evening prayer, I walked home with Rabbi Moishe together with the other invited guests. He lived in a tiny apartment with his young wife and little baby. What they superficially lacked in material possessions was much more than adequately compensated for in warmth, hospitality and spirituality. We all shared the food and drink. We all were interested in each other. We chatted and we sang niggunim (Shabbat songs) and talked about Jewish things and current Israeli news. Rabbi Moishe ended his share of hospitality by walking us back to the main road and pointing each of us in the direction of our hotels.
On Shabbat morning we all met up again in the synagogue. Again, the Shabbat services were most enjoyable. One of the local congregants had prepared a kiddush. We ate and drank and Rabbi Menashe gave a short talk derived from the scriptures. We all then went back inside the Synagogue for Minchah (afternoon service).
A few of us accompanied Rabbi Menashe for Shabbat lunch at his home. It was a very pleasant twenty-minute walk in the sun through a green, gardened residential area. We arrived happy and in good spirits.
Rabbi Menashe was a Shaliach (emissary) of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, whose task was to build a Jewish community. He had come to Santiago after a few years in Uruguay. He had seven children, two of them studying in distant yeshivas. His household, too, was frugal, but filled with warmth and hospitality.
We all enjoyed the long lunch at Rabbi Menashe’s: interesting discussions, songs, tasty food, more discussions and songs.
Soon it was getting dark and it was time to go, to move back from this real world with its demands and deadlines into another real world with its demands and deadlines.
Rabbi Menashe, too, walked us back to the main road and pointed each of us towards our destinations. We parted with warm wishes for a happy new week. I walked back to my hotel, washed, shaved and changed from my suit and tie into my smart casual clothes, grabbed my leather jacket and some gifts I had brought with me for my Chilean friends, Jaime and Jesse, and their three children and hurried downstairs.
Jaime came to pick me up. We hugged and slapped each other on the back. It was so good to see each other again. Soon we drove into Jaime’s estate in the mountains overlooking Santiago. The stone and wooden house had a crackling wood fire in the lounge. I greeted Jesse and then the ninjas (children). We toasted each other and each other’s families over a pisco sour (a Chilean national drink made of lemon juice, a strong spirit base similar to vodka and some ice). There is nothing that feels nicer on a cold night than a pisco sour between friends next to a wood fire.
Jaime and I had met a few years before and had immediately built up a very strong brotherly bond based on integrity, mutual trust and commitment. We had established, then nurtured and shepherded forest-based trade between Chile and Australia and I had helped Jaime build up an exciting industry. Jaime and Jesse were the “new generation Chileans” – educated and cultured young, modern Catholics, passionate about rebuilding their country and improving living standards for their people. We felt as if we were related in a familial way.
Jesse had prepared a vegetarian dinner which she served on new dishes. We ate, drank and chatted. This was another memorable time.
Jaime