Features
Winnipegger behind restoration of historic Jewish cemetery in Portugal

By MYRON LOVE The Butterfly Effect is roughly the idea that, metaphorically, great trees grow from small seeds or, to be more specific, the theory that tornadoes in North America may be triggered by a butterfly in Africa – or a seagull in the Atlantic – flapping its wings multiple times.
This story is an example of the Butterfly Effect in human terms. Roughly 40 years ago, a Winnipegger by the name of Bonnie Neil – she was known as Bonnie Griffith back then – happened to be visiting Portugal – in her role as program director of the old Hargrave YMHA’s Stay Young seniors group – and came across an abandoned Jewish cemetery in the south of the country. She mentioned the sorry state of the cemetery to a member of the small Jewish community in Lisbon. Now, that cemetery is a Jewish heritage site.
A social worker by training, she was hired by the Y in 1975 to work with teens. After a short time, she switched her focus to developing programming for older Jewish adults. “I founded the Stay Young Club,” recalls Neil (who isn’t Jewish). “When I started at the Y, there were no programs for older adults. I first proposed to Les Marks (who was then the Y’s executive director) the idea of programming for older adults and he gave me carte blanche to create programming.”
With funding from the Jewish Foundation and the Federal Government’s New Horizons program, Neil set to work. She began with a weekly gym and swim program, then added a weekly lunch, a Yiddish group, a choir and a light exercise group. Within a couple of years, the Stay Young Club was offering activities for older adults every week day.
The ambitious Neil then began going further afield. She began organizing short trips for Stay Young members, starting with Calgary and Edmonton, subsequently to Florida and Palm Springs. Looking even further afield, she took her charges to Israel three times –with assistance the first time from the well known Noach Witman (who operated Witman Travel in addition to hosting the Jewish Radio Hour). Subsequent Israeli trips were organized through Beth Shore at Flair Travel.
Les was always asking me where we were going to go next,” she remembers. “I had come across a little book listing places of Jewish interest. I noticed that Portugal wasn’t listed. We had been flying with CP Air -which flew to Portugal. I decided to go to Portugal to see for myself what might be of interest to Jewish travellers.
“As I knew nothing about the country, I asked a Jewish woman I met what there was in Portugal that might be of interest to Jewish travellers? She suggested I visit the southern city of Faro where there was a Jewish cemetery.”
Now some background: It is common knowledge (I think) that all Jews (except those who were willing to convert to Christianity) were expelled from Portugal in 1496 – four years after Jews were expelled from Spain. I hadn’t given much thought to what Jewish life in Portugal was like following the expulsion. According to information that Neil gave me, Portugal began allowing some Jews back into the country in the early 1800s. During World War II, the country became a haven for Jews fleeing Nazi persecution. Thousands of Jewish refugees found safety in Portugal. After the war, most left for other destinations. The Jewish population currently is about 900 – with two-thirds living in Lisbon, the capital.
(Ed. note: Portugal has become a prime destination for Israelis seeking to obtain citizenship in a different country, although without actually leaving Israel. According to the Times of Israel, over 60,000 Israelis have been granted Portugese citizenship, although only 569 had actually moved there as of September 2023. According to the TOI article, ‘The surge of Israeli applicants began after Portugal passed its “law of return” in 2015, allowing the descendants of Portuguese Sephardic Jews who were affected by the 16th-century Inquisition to apply for nationality. The Portuguese government has announced plans to end this policy in December 2023, saying its purpose of reparation will be ‘fulfilled.’ “
It sounds quite similar to the vast number of Lebanese who hold Canadian citizenship – between 40-75,000. It seems that Portugal and Canada offer attractive alternative destinations for Israelis on the one hand, and Lebanese on the other. If either group thought their lives were truly in peril, then they would have a safe place to where they could run, but in the meantime both Israelis and Lebanese seem content to stay where they are.)
In the 15th century, Faro had been a centre of Hebrew printing. The Jewish community began to be reconstituted in the 19th century. The cemetery was opened in 1820. In the 1860s, Jews from Morocco settled in the community – with some Russian and Polish Jews coming before World War I.

So Neil traveled to Portugal on an exploratory visit and asked her guide to show her the cemetery. She was horrified by what she saw.
“The last Jewish resident of Faro had died a year before,” she recalls. “When I arrived, the gates were locked. I could see that there was garbage and weeds everywhere. I also learned that the city was planning to tear down the cemetery to expand a sports field nearby. I let it be known that I was planning to bring a group of Jewish tourists and I got a promise that the cemetery would be cleaned up.”
During a stopover in Lisbon, she mentioned the cemetery’s deplorable condition. Then she went home. As it happened, the tour was cancelled due to a lack of registrants.
She says that she never gave Portugal another thought.
In 1985 she left the Y for government employment. “While I loved working at the Y,” she says, “I was a single mother by then with two children – and the government was offering a salary that was twice what the Y was paying.”
Recently, Neil learned what happened to the cemetery. It seems that shortly after she alerted the Jewish community in Lisbon, a community member by the name of Ike Bitton founded the Faro Cemetery Restoration Fund. The result of the fundraising effort resulted not only in the cemetery’s restoration, but also the opening a small Jewish museum containing a display of furniture from Faro’s synagogues.
Neil left government in 1992 to go into private practice in the social work field. She notes that she did some programming with seniors at the Simkin Centre. She retired in 2014. She still supports some Jewish institutions such as the Winnipeg Jewish Theatre.
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.