Features
Haskel Greenfield peers into the mouths of donkeys (and other critters) for new information concerning Bronze Age civilization in Middle East
By MYRON LOVE There is a Biblical story doubtless known to regular shul goers in which an ass talks. For those readers who are not familiar with it, the story can be found in Numbers 23-35 in the Torah.
In short, Balak, the King of Moab, is terrified of the Israelites who are growing in power. He calls upon the prophet Balaam to put a curse on the Israelites. The Lord appears to the prophet in a dream and warns him not to go. Nonetheless, Balaam, persuaded by Balak’s promise of riches, sets out on his trusty donkey. En route, an angel of the Lord armed with a sword, blocks the way. The donkey sees the angel and refuses to go on. Three times, the donkey refuses to move and three times Balaam whips the beast.
Finally, the Lord opens the donkey’s mouth to speak and the animal asks Balaam why he keeps beating his trusty servant. At that moment, Balaam’s eyes are also open and he see the angel who instructs him to deliver the words of praise from the Lord to the Israelites for Balak.
Well, in a similar vein, internationally-known archaeologist Haskel Greenfield is also looking to the stories that donkeys have to tell as to the development of the evolution of Middle Eastern society during the early Bronze Age circa 2500-2600 BCE.
Greenfield is a long time University of Manitoba professor. He has the rank of Distinguished Professor, of which there are only 25 at the university. He is also Coordinator of the Judaic Studies Program at the U of M and Co-Director of the Near Eastern and Biblical Archaeology Lab at St. Paul’s College.
This past April, Greenfield, along with colleague Dr. Tina Greenfield (his wife and collaborator, at U. of Saskatchewan), and Professors John Wilkins (U. of M.) and Elizabeth Arnold (Grand Valley State University), and Gideon Hartman (University of Connecticut) – received a $393,960 Insight Grant from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada to study how early complex societies were provisioned during the Early Bronze Age (3600-2000 BCE) in the southern Levant. This was the time of the first cities developing in the region.
The scholars are using a unique approach by focusing on the movement of biological goods and transport, particularly through the major forms of transportation in those days, i.e., donkeys. By the analysis of the teeth of donkeys, sheep, goats, and other livestock, they will be able to understand where the animals were born, and how they were raised, fed, and cared.
Since 2008, the Greenfields and their students have been working on the site known as Tell es-Safi, about 30 (45 km) miles southwest of Jerusalem, known in ancient times as Gath, the hometown of Goliath of David-and-Goliath fame. “We finished our excavations in 2017,”Haskel Greenfield says. “For the past four years, we have been working in our lab, analysing and cataloguing our findings. While we have published dozens of articles already on the project, we will have our first volume out by the end of the year – with hopefully two or three more to follow. The site was so rich that we recovered more information from it than ever expected. It is taking years to process and write up the data”.
One of the unexpected finds from the Tell es-Safi work that the Greenfields encountered was the discovery of several complete donkey burials. “The burials weren’t random,” Greenfield notes. “They were buried in shallow graves beneath the floors of houses, but close to the periphery of the site.” The locations of these burials, he surmises, may be an indication of merchant quarters that were common to cities already in ancient times.
“Our analysis of the isotopes on animal teeth have shown that while there is evidence that sheep and goats were raised locally, the over half the donkeys (and one goat) came from elsewhere, specifically Egypt,” he observes. They were born and raised in Egypt, and slaughtered soon after arriving at the site of Tell es-Safi.
“As the era we are studying is still considered prehistoric in that neither cuneiform, hieroglyphics, nor evidence of any other form of writing for this period throughout the region. Based on our discoveries at Tell es-Safi, we are trying to extend our research across the region – by looking at the animal remains from many sites across the length and breadth of ancient Canaan. We will be able to learn quite a bit from the donkeys and other animals about such things as trade, migration, food, and even climate.”
“We are trying to identify their ages and sex and learn how they were raised, what they ate, how they were managed, and where they came from. At different sites, some animals may have come from Egypt, while others may have a Mesopotamian connection. The region alternated between being within the spheres of influence of the two major early civilizations, depending which was stronger at any given time.”
Greenfield reports that his research team is expanding its investigation into the lives of donkeys and other animals beyond Tell Es-Safi/Gath to other urban centres in the region. He notes that at around 2500 BCE, all the large cities in the region collapsed and were abandoned. “We (archaeologists) aren’t sure why this happened,” he says. “We have found no evidence of destruction. We only know that around 2200 BCE, there was a major drought in the region. But, this is too late to be the cause of the urban collapse 300 years before. Hence we are trying a new approach by examining the isotopes in animal teeth to see if they record shifts in water and vegetation that might signal a change in climate.”
While the popular image of the working archaeologist is someone on his hands and knees sifting dirt at a potential site, Greenfield notes that, as he is almost 68 now, his days of working on digs are likely behind him. “Two years ago, I was invited to work at the famous archaeological site of Tell Beth Shemesh,” he says, “but, regrettably, the director of the dig recently passed.”
He adds that he still has a lot of lab work ahead of him, and years of writing. That includes analysing material from excavations, not only in Israel, but also in Jordan. “I was hoping to be in Israel this summer, but family affairs (the passing of his younger brother, Avi) and the pandemic made it impossible. I am hopeful that I will be able to visit Israel in the fall, and the sites in Jordan next spring,” he says hopefully. When doing this kind of work, one must always be hopeful”.
Features
I Speak “Jew”
By MARK E. PAULL I grew up in Montreal. Born in 1956. Anglo by birth, sure. But that never quite fit. I don’t speak “Anglo” the way they mean it. My real language is Jew.
And I don’t mean Hebrew or Yiddish. I mean the language of reading the room before you enter it. The code-switching, shame-dodging, laugh-first-so-they-don’t-pounce dialect we pick up early. It’s a language built on side-eyes and timing and ten generations of tension.
I speak French—enough to make myself understood. Enough to charm a dinner table, crack a joke, get someone’s uncle to nod. I’m not fluent, but I’m fast. Doesn’t matter. In Quebec, language isn’t grammar—it’s inheritance. It’s who your grandfather cursed out in a hardware store.
To the Francophones, I’ll never be one of them. My accent betrays me before I say a word. I’m just an Anglo. And not even that, really. Because when the lens tightens, when they look closely, I’m just un Juif. Just a Jew.
And to the Anglos? Same thing. I can wear the suit, speak the Queen’s English, order the wine properly—still a Jew. Even in rooms where I “pass,” I don’t belong. I’m not invited in to be myself. I’m invited in to behave. To be safe. To not say the thing that makes the air stiff.
We’re the only people still called by our religion. No one says “Orthodox” for a Greek. No one says “Vatican” for an Italian. No one calls a Black man “Baptist” before they see his face. But “Jew”? That sticks. That’s the label. Before passport. Before language. Before hello.
I’ve mostly made peace with that. But there’s still this ache—knowing you can live your whole life in a place and never really be from there.
Let me tell you a story.
We had this block party once—the folding-table, paper-plate kind. Kids zipping by on scooters. Music low. Everyone asked to bring something from “your culture.”
The Greek guy brought lemon potatoes and lamb—felt like it came with a side of Byzantine history. The Italians brought two lasagnas—meat and veggie—with basil placed like confetti. The Vietnamese couple brought shrimp rolls that vanished before they hit the table. Even the German guy—built like a fridge—brought bratwurst and a six-pack with gothic lettering.
And then us.
My partner made Moroccan fish. Her grandmother’s recipe. Red with tomatoes, garlic, cumin. Studded with olives and preserved lemon. I brought a bottle of white wine. Dry. Crisp. From the Golan Heights. Not Manischewitz. Not even close.
We laid it out. Someone leaned over: “Moroccan? But I thought you were Jewish.”
We smiled. “We are.”
Then: “So… where’s the brisket? Isn’t Jewish wine supposed to be sweet?”
That’s when it hits you. No matter how long you’ve lived here, how many snowstorms you’ve shoveled through, you’re still explaining yourself. Still translating your presence.
Because they don’t know. They don’t know Jews came from everywhere. That “Jewish” isn’t one dish—it’s a whole map. That we had Jews in Morocco before there was even a France. That some of us grew up on kreplach, some on kefta. That some of our mothers sang in Yiddish, others in Arabic, and some in both—depending on who was knocking.
They don’t know. And worse—they don’t ask.
And that’s the part that gets you. Not the slurs. Not the graffiti. Not even the occasional muttered cliché. It’s the blankness. The shrug. The image they already have of you that’s built out of dreidels and sitcoms.
“Jewish” as nostalgic. As novelty. Something they saw once on a bagel.
Sometimes, when those questions come, I float. One version of me walks out. Another turns into a mouse. One turns into a Frisbee. Just gone. Not mad. Just tired.
Because being a Jew isn’t cute. It’s not nostalgic.
It’s ancient.
Before Montreal.
Before France.
Before Poland. Before Spain.
Before pogroms.
Before ghettos.
Before Hitler.
Before even the word Europe.
We were there.
Go back to the 5th century. 2nd century.
Go back to Jesus—our kid, by the way.
Go further—Babylon. Persia.
Keep going—Temple. Exile. Wandering.
And still, after all that, I’m at a table in Quebec explaining why our fish has cumin in it.
It’s almost funny. If it didn’t wear you down a little.
I’m not looking for pity. This isn’t a complaint.
I’m proud. I know what I carry. I walk into any room with five thousand years behind me. I come from people who kept the lights on through every kind of darkness—and laughed through it, too.
But sometimes, I just wish I didn’t have to explain so much.
All I want is to put down my dish…
…and hear someone say:
“That smells amazing. Tell me the story.”
That’s all.
Mark E. Paull, C.A.C. is a Certified ADHD Coach – IPHM, CMA, IIC&M, CPD Certified
Writer | Lived-Experience Advocate | Type 1 Diabetic since 1967
He has been published in:
The New York Times, The Globe and Mail, Folklife Magazine, Times of Israel, CHADD’s Attention Magazine, The Good Men Project
Features
At 104, Besse Gurevich last original resident of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence
By MYRON LOVE At 104, Besse Gurevich is the last of the original residents of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence. She may also be the oldest member of our Jewish community.
Although her vision and her hearing have diminished considerably, her mind and memory are still intact. A few weeks back, this writer sat down with her in her suite as she recalled a life filled with highs and lows and her many contributions to her community, both in Winnipeg and Fort William before that.
The daughter of Jack and Rebecca Avit, her life’s journey began in 1921 in a home on Carlton Street near Ellice Avenue, near her father’s furniture store. He later operated a cap factory.
When she was ten, the family – she had two brothers and a sister – moved to Manitoba Avenue in the old North End. “My father had put a deposit down on a house on Scotia,” she recalls. “But my parents didn’t feel that the neighbourhood was Jewish enough.”
Her schooling included Peretz School and, like so many of her generation, St. John’s Tech (as it was known back then.) “I was actually supposed to be going to Isaac Newton for high school,” she says. We were living on the wrong side of the tracks for St. John’s. After one day at Isaac Newton, I found a way to transfer to St. John’s.”
In 1940, 19-year-old Bessie Avit married Jack Gurevich, a young man from Fort William. The wedding was marred though, by the sudden, untimely passing of her father.
Following the wedding, Besse moved with her new husband to Fort William where Jack Gurevich worked in retail clothing sales. “We lived in Fort William for 20 years,” she says. “Our three children (Judy, Richard and Howard) were born there.”
She recalls that there were about 200 Jewish families – including her sister and one of her brothers for some years – in town, during the time she lived there. “We were very well known in the community,” she recalls. “I was involved in everything.”
Her community activism continued after the family’s return to her home town. While Jack went to work as a salesman for Western Glove Works, Besse became an indefatigable community volunteer. At one time or another, she served as vice-president of ORT, Hadassah and National Council of Jewish Women in Winnipeg. She was also a long time B’nai Brith member.
In the business world, the highlight of her career was the building of Linden Woods. “I became involved in real estate development for a time,” she recalls. “I was hired by Genstar to develop Linden Woods. The company estimated that it would take about 20 years to complete. I got it done in two.”
She also taught hair dressing for a while. “I worked with many young Jewish brides,” she says.
Recent years have not been kind to Besse Gurevich. Her beloved husband, Jack, died in 2016 – after almost 65 years of marriage. Older son, Richard, passed away in Vancouver in 2018 and, most recently –six months ago – younger son, Howard, followed. She notes that there were 200 mourners at Howard’s funeral.
(Howard Gurevich was in marketing for many years before turning his talents to the art world. In recent years, he was best known for Gurevich Fine Art in the Exchange District and his support of local artists.)
Besse Gurevich celebrated her 100th birthday – which took place at the height of the Covid shutdown – quietly.
While she used to enjoy reading. she is unable to do so any more. She can still listen to television.
And while she has few family members to visit her any more, she does have a group of friends interesting enough from the local theatre scene. For many years, she was a close friend of the late Doreen Brownstone, one of the leading figures in theatre in Winnipeg for more than half a century. Besse became part of the group that would visit Doreen every week and, since Doreen passed on three years ago, the members of the group have continued to visit Besse on a weekly basis.
Features
Winnipeg author’s first novel gripping tale of romance, action and intrigue, set in 15th century Spain and Morocco
By MYRON LOVE “The Chronos of Andalucia”, a novel just released by first-time author Merom Toledano, is a historical romance set in late 15th century Spain and Morocco, filled with passion, action, intrigue, unexpected twists and turns – and, of course, with the requirement of any medieval story – a quest.
The easy-to-read, 190 page book follows the adventures of Catalina, a young woman living by her wits on the streets of Granada in the year 1487, (just after the Christian armies of Ferdinand and Isabella had recaptured all of Spain from the Moors) – while trying to evade the agents of the Inquisition, who had murdered her Jewish mother and Christian father 10 years earlier. She was left with an insatiable desire to learn about astronomy, along with a mysterious map and an astrolabe (an instrument formerly used to make astronomical measurements) – the importance of which will only be unveiled if she can get to the city of Tangier in Morocco.
Early on, there is a reference to Abraham Zacuto, a prominent Spanish rabbi famed for his knowledge of astronomy and astrology.
The action begins when she has a casual interaction with a former Spanish soldier, Diego. When the forces of the Inquisition approach, she flees with the soldier – who is also her love interest – and who helps her to escape. They turn for help to a childhood friend of Catalina’s – Roberta, a nun, who helps them on their perilous journey to Tangier – a journey that includes being captured by pirates, surviving a shipwreck, being separated for a long period of time and, of course, finding each other again and realizing the success of their joint quest.
In his writing, the author paints vivid word pictures of the different characters and beautifully invokes the colour, sights, sounds and scents of the time and the places.
What I found truly remarkable about the writing of “The Chronos of Andalucia” is that English is not Merom Toledano’s first language. The Israeli-born author – he grew up near Haifa – came to Winnipeg with his young family just eight years ago.
“I have had this book in mind for several years now,” says the satellite engineer whose working career takes him to many different parts of the world.
He notes that he has always felt a connection to Spain, Spanish music and literature – a reflection of his family’s modern origins in that country. His great-grandparents, he relates, lived in Toledo – hence the family name, Toledano. His parents lived in Meknes in Morocco while his father attended university in Tangier before making aliyah.
Toledano just published “The Chronos of Andalucia” in April on Amazon. He reports that the book – which is available here at McNally Robinson – has been selling well –close to 100 copies – with orders coming from a bookstore chain in England, a bookstore in Denmark, and one in Italy.
“I have had between 30 and 40 positive reviews so far,” he reports.
Toledano adds that he envisages “The Chronos of Andalucia” to be the first in a series – a la the writer Danielle Steele. He is already working on a sequel – which is hinted at the end of “The Chronos” and, he reports, he is establishing his own independent publishing operation.