Nathalie Kamkhagi

I am so grateful to so many people—my parents, my family, my friends, rabanim-- who played a role in my life and taught me so many wonderful things. I regard each as a precious stone that I have collected along the way.  

But I must give special mention to my beloved Rebbetzin Weinberg (May HaShem grant long life and great health to her, together with her family) who gave me the chance of my life, the opportunity to study Torah, to learn what it means to be a Jew, and what I was meant to do in this world.

These were questions that I had been seeking answers to all my life. I couldn't understand a world that I perceived as crazy and without any rules. I had no Jewish education, and my soul was thirsty for something. I did not know what that something was for a long time and, because of this thirst, I ended up having some difficult experiences. Finally, I realized that, although I always knew that HaShem existed, I didn't know that He knew I existed. From this realization, my connection with HaShem began: I discovered my place in the universe as a Jewish woman, and I started doing the things that I knew a Jew should do, such as eating kosher food and lighting Shabbat candles.

I always knew that HaShem existed, but I didn’t know that
He knew I existed.

Several "coincidences" occurred that convinced me that HaShem was directing everything. I finally went on a trip to Jerusalem and attended a class at Eyaht, the midrasha (religious seminary for women) of Rebbetzin Weinberg. At the time, I didn’t even know what a midrasha was!

During a class, the rebbetzin asked some questions and she liked my answers.  Because I was able to extend my plane ticket by a few more months and was able to stay at the home of some relatives, I decided to stay and continued to study. Every day, I attended classes at Eyaht, and then moved into the dormitory there.

But the story of how this all happened is incredible! On the last day of the trip, when my three-month ticket extension was up, I went to the Kotel to say goodbye and asked Hashem, "what should I do?”

As I left the Kotel, my cell phone rang. A friend was calling to tell me that the rebbetzin wanted to see me. I boarded the bus and made my way over to her house to say goodbye.

I felt the Torah entering my pores, transforming me...

Once there, Rebbetzin Weinberg invited me to stay in Israel and study and live at Eyaht.  I thanked her profusely for everything she had done for me, but explained that my ticket was about to expire, my bags were packed, and I was ready to go home.

She insisted, I repeated, she insisted again, I repeated again ...

Then she said, “Go to the Kotel and ask Hashem what you should do.” But I had just come from the Kotel asking exactly that, I told her. She looked at me and smiled knowingly. She already knew this, and this was the answer!

I stayed, settled in the midrasha, and b”H it was the best choice I ever made in my life. I am forever grateful for the opportunity that the rebbetzin provided me. The time I spent at Eyaht learning, I felt the Torah entering through my pores, transforming me, reshaping, reforming and reconnecting me. I became my true self. I learned from the best teachers and mentors, and Hashem was very generous to me.

Each and every one of the actions we do through our community groups, such as Guisheft, G’mach Brasil, Tzanuah é linda (Tzanuah-It´s beautiful), Alô Mitzva (Hello Mitzvah) is all in thanks to Hashem.

In my life, I feel so privileged to have met Rebbitzin Weinberg and to have had the opportunity to learn in her midrasha Eyaht, in Jerusalem. I am thankful for that experience and to her every day.

Toda L’Hashem!

Scott Saunders

It seems so long ago now that it’s hard to believe I actually worked in the financial service industry for almost thirty years. Throughout that period, I had the honour and privilege to work on Wall Street, in Tokyo and in Hong Kong.

I grew up in Northwest London in a fairly secular Jewish environment. I never went to a Jewish school, I played sports on most Saturdays and had friends from all backgrounds. My parents, too, came from very secular backgrounds; my mother is fifth generation English.

I was moderately successful in the financial industry and realistically, if allowed, could have stayed until full retirement age. So, what happened?

Many people change paths or direction throughout their lives; some of these changes are forced upon them and some not. For me, my directional change was more something that happened over a period of time, part by chance and part by design. What I could never have realized was the total impact it would have on me and on those around me.

In 1993, I was working in Tokyo, running an equity trading book for a large American banking firm. My wife was involved with the small Jewish community center there, a life-saver for a young Jewish expat’s wife. We used to go the attached synagogue most weeks, and most of our non-work-related friends were met through the center. During the year, there were many events, from quiz nights to celebrations of Jewish holidays, and various gatherings for us all. One such event was the commemoration of a Japanese diplomat who had saved Jews in Lithuania during the war.

This story of a Japanese diplomat who saved Jews from the Holocaust was not an account I expected to hear.

When I was a child, I had listened to stories of Japanese cruelty toward the Allied soldiers. My father’s neighbour and first cousin had died on the Burma Railway, and my closest friend’s father had been a POW, captured in the fall of Singapore. This story of a Japanese diplomat who saved Jews from the Holocaust was not an account
I expected to hear.

The diplomat’s name was Chiene (Sempo) Sugihara, and, stationed in Kaunas, (Kovno) Lithuania, he had served as the vice-consul to the Japanese Empire. The evening, hosted by the American embassy with Sugihara’s wife present, was for me not only the telling of an amazing story, but perhaps the first time I had really exposed to a Holocaust-related narrative beyond movies or articles I had read. The tale of how a Japanese diplomat -- against the wishes of his government-- had issued visas to Jewish refugees so they could escape the oncoming Nazis was an act almost unheard of in Japanese society. Many of those refugees escaped east through dangerous conditions to get to Japan and eventually were settled into a ghetto in Shanghai. This short description really does not do the story justice. Today, there are many articles and books written about Sugihara. But for me, that inspiring event was just the start of an interest in the Holocaust that would last until today.

The story became a little more personal when, during my time in Tokyo, I used to sit next to an elderly man in synagogue every week. He spoke very little beyond the normal courtesies and, to my shame,
I never really pushed the discussion.

In 1994, he passed away and the rabbi, who was new and transient, like the rest of us, had the duty of presiding at his funeral. But, also like most of us, he knew very little about him. His name was Joseph Shimkin, and he had been a recipient of one of Sugihara’s visas, and so the story was told to us that after Sugihara had left Lithuania, Joseph had learnt how to forge the visas. We will never really know how many he forged, or how many people were saved, but the tale we heard left a profound impact on me--not only the story itself, but the fact that I only heard it after he had died. I had sat next to him for most of a year and had taken very little interest in him, and yet he’d had had an amazing history that I had never accessed.

I used to sit next to an elderly man in synagogue every week…

In 1995, my wife and myself, with two small girls, moved to Hong Kong, where I continued to work in trading for a large firm. We became involved with the synagogue and the JCC there, a considerably larger institution than the one in Tokyo. My interest in the Holocaust and the individual stories I heard continued to grow, and in those early years I started to work with the JCC to bring in speakers and set up Holocaust-related programmes. Indeed, in 2000, we sponsored an exhibition from the Sydney Jewish Museum that was also accompanied by a survivor
who could speak to it.

In 2006, while I sat on the JCC board, a colleague asked me if I would be interested in putting a trip together to Poland. Of course, I was interested, and we proceeded to do our research. It turned out that, as a student in Montreal, she had participated in program called March of the Living, and we reached out to learn more. In 2007, I led a small Hong Kong delegation on this journey. If my personal journey had begun with Sugihara and Shimkin, then the next stage certainly progressed in 2007. Our small group was taken around by a Holocaust survivor named Noach Klieger. His story was quite remarkable – I must add here that all survivor stories are remarkable – but this was my first trip to Poland, and obviously my first time experiencing this type of exposure. To hear about Auschwitz from someone who was there, while standing on the same ground… to hear his story of post- war escape to Palestine aboard The Exodus, and to just be in his presence, with his amazing zest for life, was perhaps one of the most inspirational parts of my own journey.

I took an additional two groups from Hong Kong before leaving. It was during this time that the financial world changed, devastated by the collapse of Lehman Brothers and then the melt-down of markets. I was tired and wanted a new challenge, but when I searched for a transfer away from Asia, I found no opportunity. Finally, I bit the bullet, partially as opportunities for me had dried up and partially because I was mentally checked out of an industry that had changed beyond recognition--not a criticism, more just a point of fact.

To hear about Auschwitz from someone who was there, while standing on the same ground…

In 2010, my family and I moved to London. I couldn’t say I was going home, since I’d been away for nearly twenty-three years, but I felt I was starting a new adventure rather than returning to a familiar situation. I started to explore how to continue my “affair” with March of the Living, and as there was no branch of the organization in the U.K., I was left to try and start one.

That first year, finally, after many no’s, I persuaded UJS (Union Jewish Students) to bring a small group with me. I sponsored them, and along with ten students, embarked on this first U.K. delegation. The pilot was a success, and so I set about starting it as a charity and building collaborative partnerships to construct a program that was based on a strong foundation of education, not just about the Holocaust, but about 1000 years of Jewish history in Eastern Europe.

I look back now, ten years on, to acknowledge that we have taken over 2500 participants on this journey and my entire life has changed. I laugh that I am financially poorer, but mentally much richer. I have had the true pleasure of spending time with inspirational survivors, dynamic community leaders and many young people who, just maybe, because of a six-day journey exploring our collective past, will have been inspired to become tomorrow’s great Jewish leaders.

Photo credit: Sam Churchill Photography