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The Dominican Republic was a haven for Jews fleeing the Nazis. A museum project could tell that story.

SOSUA, Dominican Republic (JTA) — Sitting inside a small wood-frame shul just around the corner from Playa Alicia, where tourists sip rum punch while watching catamarans glide by, Joe Benjamin recounted one of the most uplifting but often forgotten stories of Jewish survival during the Holocaust.

“I was bar mitzvahed right here,” he said, pointing to a podium at the front of the sanctuary in La Sinagoga de Sosua. It was built in the early 1940s to meet the spiritual needs of about 750 German and Austrian Jews.

At the time, the Dominican Republic was the only country in the world that offered asylum to large numbers of Jewish refugees, earning the moniker “tropical Zion.”

Benjamin, 82, is president of the Jewish community of Sosua and one of only four surviving second-generation Jews remaining in this touristy beach town on the northern coast of the Dominican Republic. His parents were part of the unconventional colony of Jewish immigrants who established an agricultural settlement between 1940-47 on an abandoned banana plantation overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.

“When I talk about that, I get goosebumps,” Benjamin said. “This is a distinction that the Dominican Republic has. It was the only country that opened its doors to Jews.”

Joe Benjamin, president of the Jewish Community of Sosua, inside the sanctuary of La Sinagoga. (Dan Fellner)

At the 1938 Evian Conference in France, attended by representatives of 32 countries to address the problem of German and Austrian Jewish refugees wanting to flee Nazi persecution, the Dominican Republic announced it would accept up to 100,000 Jewish refugees. About 5,000 visas were issued but fewer than 1,000 Jews ultimately were able to reach the country, which is located on the same island as Haiti, about 800 miles southeast of Miami. 

Benjamin was born in 1941 in Shanghai, the only other place besides the Dominican Republic that accepted large numbers of Jewish refugees during the Holocaust. Shanghai, then a divided city not under the control of a single government, did not require a visa to enter. About 20,000 Jewish refugees immigrated there, including Benjamin’s parents, who fled Nazi Germany in 1939.

In 1947, with a civil war raging in China, Benjamin’s father realized the country “was getting a little difficult” and looked for another place to raise his two children.

“I think my father read it in a newspaper – there was a Jewish refugee colony in the Dominican Republic,” he says. “My father had no idea where that was, but he said, ‘I’m going there.’” 

Benjamin’s family took a ship from China to San Francisco, a train to Miami, and then flew into Santo Domingo, the Dominican Republic’s capital city. At that time, the city was officially called Ciudad Trujillo after the country’s dictator, Generalissimo Rafael Trujillo, who ruled the Dominican Republic from 1930 until his assassination in 1961. 

Photos of some of the 750 Jewish refugees who settled in Sosua in the 1940s on display at the Gregorio Luperon International Airport in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic. (Dan Fellner)

Historians suggest the Dominican dictator’s motives in accepting large numbers of Jewish refugees at a time when so many other countries — including the United States, Canada and the United Kingdom — turned their backs were fueled more by opportunism than altruism. It’s believed that Trujillo wanted to improve his reputation on the world stage following the 1937 massacre of an estimated 20,000 Black Haitians by Dominican troops. Furthermore, Trujillo liked the idea of allowing a crop of mostly educated immigrants who would “whiten” the country’s population.

“He was a cruel dictator,” Benjamin said of Trujillo. “But it’s not for me to judge. Because for us, he saved our lives. If you’re drowning and someone throws you a rope, you hold on to it. You don’t start asking his motive. You just hold on.”

In 1947, Benjamin was among the last group of Jewish refugees to arrive in Sosua, one of about 10 families known by the other colonists as the “Shanghai group.” The Sosua settlement was run by an organization called the Dominican Republic Settlement Association (DORSA) that was funded by the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee in New York.

“DORSA would give you 10 cows, a mule, a horse and a cart,” said Benjamin. “My father by profession was a cabinet-maker. He thought he was going to do that here. But there was no market for that. So he dedicated himself to farming.”

Benjamin said conditions in Sosua were “primitive” and a difficult transition for many settlers who had been city-dwellers in Europe. Still, he spoke fondly of a childhood in which he was relatively insulated from the horrors that befell so many other Jewish children his age. 

“We had enough to eat,” he says. “We enjoyed the beach. And I went to a Jewish school.”

La Sinagoga de Sosua in the Dominican Republic served the spiritual needs of the Jewish refugees who found a safe haven in Sosua during the Holocaust. It’s now open only for the high holidays. (Dan Fellner)

The school, originally called Escuela Cristobal Colon, opened in 1940 in a barracks and was attended by Jewish children as well as the children of Dominican farm workers. The school still exists and is now called the Colegio Luis Hess, named after Luis Hess, one of the Jewish settlers. Hess taught at the school for 33 years and lived in Sosua until his death in 2010 at the age of 101.    

While the children attended school, men worked on farms and women cooked dinner for their families, who ate communal style. Beds were lined with mosquito netting to prevent malaria. As men greatly outnumbered women — Trujillo did not allow single Jewish women to enter the country — intermarriage was common.      

Over time, the agriculture venture failed and DORSA instead decided to promote a beef and dairy cooperative, Productos Sosua, which ultimately proved successful. 

After finishing high school, Benjamin moved to Pittsburgh to attend college (he’s an engineer who once built and flew his own airplane), got married and started a family. After 17 years in the United States, he decided in 1976 to return to the Dominican Republic, where he became an executive with Productos Sosua. He worked there until he retired in 2004, when the firm was sold to a Mexican company.

“All my life I talked about Sosua as my home,” he said. “I like it here. Everybody knows me.”

A street mural recognizes Sosua’s Jewish history on the main road connecting Sosua with Puerto Plata on the north coast of the Dominican Republic. (Dan Fellner)

Today, Sosua is vastly changed from the sleepy town in which Benjamin was raised. In 1979, an international airport opened in Puerto Plata, just a 15-minute drive to the west. Sosua morphed into a congested tourist destination known for its golden-sand beaches and water sports. It also became a hub of the Dominican sex tourism industry. 

Most of Sosua’s Jewish population immigrated to the United States by the early 1980s. Benjamin estimates that only 30-40 Jews remain in Sosua, most of whom are not religiously observant. As a result, the synagogue hasn’t been able to financially sustain a permanent rabbi for more than 20 years. Services are held only on the high holidays, when a rabbi is flown in from Miami. 

Benjamin says a group of seven Jews chips in about $2,500 a month to pay for security and other operating expenses. 

“It’s very hard to get the Jews here to pay,” he said. “When we bring in the rabbi, we try to charge something. But we don’t get any people if we charge.”

Next to the synagogue is a small museum called the Museo Judio de Sosua, which offers a window into the town’s Jewish roots. Five years ago, the U.S. Embassy in Santo Domingo donated $80,000 to the museum to preserve and digitize its archives. However, the museum, which is badly in need of repairs, has been closed for the past year. 

The Museo Judio de Sosua, which tells the story of the Jewish refugees who found a safe haven in the Dominican Republic during the Holocaust. The museum is closed while the community waits for funding to reopen it. (Dan Fellner)

Benjamin has been in discussions with the Dominican government in hopes it will soon finance a major renovation of the museum that would include an exhibition hall big enough to accommodate 100 people for events. Benjamin says he is optimistic the project, which has a price-tag approaching $1 million, will be green-lighted by the government. 

“They are very positive about it because it could become a tourist attraction,” he says, noting that Puerto Plata and nearby Amber Cove have become popular port-stops on Caribbean cruises originating in Florida. “If it comes to fruition, it will be in the next year. Because if they don’t do it by then, the government changes. And the next government never continues what the previous government started.”

Otherwise, there are only a few remnants of Jewish life in Sosua for visitors to see. In Parque Mirador overlooking the Atlantic, there is a white cement-block star of David, built to honor the Jewish refugees. About 70 Jews, including Benjamin’s parents, are buried in a Jewish cemetery about a five-minute drive south of the synagogue. 

The main street connecting Sosua with Puerto Plata has a street mural depicting the town’s history that features a large star of David right above a scuba-diver. And two of the most prominent streets in Sosua — Dr. Rosen and David Stern — still bear the names of two of the colony’s Jewish founders. 

Dr. Rosen Street in downtown Sosua is named after Joseph Rosen, one of the founders of the Dominican Republic Settlement Association. (Dan Fellner)

There had been an exhibition about Sosua’s Jewish colony at the Museum of Jewish Heritage in New York but it closed several years ago. All the more reason, Benjamin says, that the Sosua museum reopens as soon as possible so that the story of the Jews who found a Caribbean cocoon to ride out the Holocaust isn’t forgotten. 

“Look at what’s happening in the world — there is a rise in antisemitism,” he said. “It’s very important that our history is documented. It will also be a place where Dominican schoolchildren can come and learn about Judaism.” 

With the museum closed, the only place in the area to see photos of the Jewish settlers on public display is the departure lounge in Puerto Plata’s airport. Next to a Dominican band serenading travelers with meringue music, there is a display of pictures showing the colonists riding horses, tilling the fields, attending school and praying in La Sinagoga. 

“When they came here, the Jews found no antisemitism at all in this country,” said Benjamin. “They were as free as anybody. They had a wonderful life.” 


The post The Dominican Republic was a haven for Jews fleeing the Nazis. A museum project could tell that story. appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

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The Science Behind Streak-Free Windows: What Professionals Do Differently

When it comes to window cleaning, nothing beats the satisfaction of streak-free, crystal-clear glass. But achieving this pristine finish isn’t as simple as grabbing a cloth and some spray. Professional window cleaners have mastered the science behind streak-free windows, using specific techniques and tools to deliver flawless results. Here’s what they do differently and why their methods are so effective.

1. Using the Right Tools for the Job

Professionals don’t rely on standard cleaning products or paper towels to get the job done. Instead, they use high-quality tools specifically designed for window cleaning. Key items in their arsenal include:

  • Squeegees: The cornerstone of any professional’s toolkit, squeegees ensure even water removal, leaving no streaks behind. The rubber blades are replaced regularly to maintain their effectiveness.
  • Microfiber Cloths: Unlike traditional rags, microfiber cloths are lint-free and highly absorbent, making them perfect for detailing and edge cleaning.
  • Specialized Cleaning Solutions: Professionals often use eco-friendly, ammonia-free solutions that dissolve dirt and grease without leaving residues.
  • Water-Fed Poles: For high-rise or hard-to-reach windows, water-fed poles equipped with purified water systems are used to clean without streaking.

2. The Importance of Purified Water

One of the secrets to streak-free windows lies in the water itself. Tap water contains minerals, salts, and impurities that can leave behind spots and streaks when it dries. Professionals use purified water systems that remove these contaminants, ensuring a spotless finish.

Purified water also has a natural ability to dissolve dirt and grime more effectively than regular water. When combined with the right tools, it creates the perfect formula for crystal-clear windows.

3. Perfecting the Technique

The way professionals clean windows is just as important as the tools they use. Here are some techniques they employ to achieve streak-free results:

  • Pre-Cleaning: Before tackling the glass, professionals remove loose dirt and debris from the surface to prevent scratches.
  • Systematic Movements: Using a squeegee, they clean in overlapping strokes, starting at the top and working their way down. This ensures no spots are missed and prevents water from dripping onto already cleaned areas.
  • Edge Detailing: Professionals pay special attention to the edges and corners of the glass, where streaks are most likely to form. Microfiber cloths are often used for this step.
  • Drying Techniques: Any remaining water is carefully wiped away to prevent streaking. This step is crucial, especially in areas with high humidity.

4. Timing Matters

Professional window cleaners know that timing can make or break the outcome. Cleaning windows on a sunny day might seem like a good idea, but direct sunlight causes cleaning solutions to dry too quickly, leaving streaks behind. Professionals prefer overcast days or cooler parts of the day to ensure optimal results.

5. Safety First

For high-rise buildings or windows in hard-to-reach places, safety is a top priority. Professionals use specialized equipment like harnesses, ladders, and scaffolding to ensure they can clean effectively without compromising safety. This expertise allows them to tackle challenging jobs while maintaining streak-free quality.

6. Experience and Training

What truly sets professionals apart is their experience. Years of practice have honed their skills, allowing them to identify and address potential issues, like hard water stains or stubborn grime, before they become a problem. Their training ensures they can adapt to different types of glass and environments, delivering consistent results every time.

A Trusted Name in Toronto

When it comes to achieving streak-free windows, Toronto Window Cleaners has perfected the art. With over 20 years of experience, their team of fully trained and certified professionals uses advanced techniques and tools to deliver exceptional results. Whether it’s a residential property or a high-rise building, they’ve built a reputation for excellence across the Greater Toronto Area.

In conclusion, the science behind streak-free windows is a blend of using the right tools, employing expert techniques, and understanding the conditions that impact cleaning results. By trusting professionals, you’re not just ensuring sparkling windows—you’re investing in a methodical process that guarantees perfection every time.

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Memoir of child of Holocaust survivors takes riveting twists

Book Review by Julie Kirsh (former Sun Media News Research Director)
Exclusive to The Jewish Post
“We used to Dream of Freedom, A Memoir of Family, the Holocaust, and the Stories We Don’t Tell”
By Sam Chaiton (Dundurn Press) 2024
Sam Chaiton’s memoir of growing up with Holocaust survivor parents in downtown Toronto in the 1950s is a compelling read.
Jeanne Beker, a well known Toronto fashion writer, mentions in her praise for “We used to Dream of Freedom” that her survivor parents talked incessantly about their war experiences.
My own parents, both survivors, would drop tidbits of their stories now and again. I learned to be watchful and vigilant for these rare moments of revelation. However, questioning my parents about the Holocaust, would cause them pain. I knew when to stand down.
In his memoir, Sam Chaiton tells the reader that his parents chose to remain completely silent about their wartime experiences. Poignantly their son was left with a silence that he interpreted as huge empty sound. Although the son could understand some Yiddish, his parents turned to Polish in order to keep the “kinder safe”. Outright denial of illness and death was part of his parents’ way of coping.
Born in the 1950s on Palmerston Boulevard in downtown Toronto, Chaiton paints a vivid picture of his youth as the middle son of five boys. He describes the mayhem of a household of barked orders and punishment by his father’s belt. His mother, as with many other survivors, was obsessed with eating and food. Chaiton learned early that rejecting his controlling mother’s food was one of his few weapons. “It’s hard not to do what a Holocaust survivor wants you to”, he says. Chaiton had to stare down two parents both with tattoos.
Dance proved to be a saving grace for Chaiton. On the dance floor, with a partner, the gates of happiness and permission to be oneself, opened. The Toronto Dance Theatre in Yorkville was a salvation and home for Chaiton. Also important to Chaiton was a family – not his troubled blood family but a chosen one – a commune.
In 1973, after a sojourn in New York, Chaiton decided that he was not a performance dancer. Back in Toronto as he pointedly danced with his mother at his brother’s wedding, she told him that he was her favourite child, imposing “the psychological damage that parental favouritism caused”.
Living in a commune with a chosen family afforded Chaiton the freedom to dig deep into his psyche, face his traumatic upbringing and tear down the rigid rules of society and the biological family. At a certain point, for reasons he explains in the book, Chaiton made the decision to vanish from the lives of his parents and brothers.
In 1980 the commune took up the cause of the injustice and illegal jailing of Rubin “Hurricane” Carter. Carter had been exonerated, released from prison and then reconvicted and sent back to prison.
In hindsight Chaiton wonders if his disengagement from his family caused them the same wounds and feelings of emptiness that Carter had to face when he was reincarcerated.
In 1985 while sitting in a New Jersey prison yard with friends and Carter, Chaiton had the riveting vision that he was in a concentration camp, “on a mission to liberate (his) parents – the dream of every Holocaust survivor’s child.”
In the summer of 1985, Chaiton received the news from Toronto that his parents were involved in a fatal car accident. Only after his mother’s death, was Chaiton able to acknowledge that in spite of her smothering, she gave him a sense of self worth and strength.
In 1988 Chaiton co-wrote the story of freeing Carter. One of his brothers saw him on a news broadcast, contacted him and the 20-year silence between Chaiton and his blood family was over.
Riding on the coattails of the successful release of Carter, Chaiton and some friends established an organization that continues to exist today. Innocence Canada has helped wrongfully convicted people like Guy Paul Morin, David Milgaard and Steven Truscott.
In chapter 16, entitled Wierzbnik, Chaiton finally learns about his father’s testimony published in a book, “Remembering Survival”, by a university professor. Reading about his father’s history helped Chaiton to understand the damage done to survivors, his parents’ trauma and why the home that they created for their sons after the war was so fraught.
Chaiton remarks on the interconnectedness of learning about the sufferings of his parents, his own personal struggles and the gift his father left him of being able to tell his own story.
Sam Chaiton’s profound memoir took courage and brutal honesty to write.
His book teaches that the legacy left by Holocaust survivors, along with a deep sadness, is the innate need of the children to persevere and find their own path of survival and growth.

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Obituaries

CAROL SLATER (née GENSER)

With great courage on Wednesday, November 6, 2024, surrounded by her family.

Treasured daughter of the late Esther and the late Percy. Beloved wife of Ron for 69 years. Loving mother and mother-in-law of Charles and Dina Slater, Erin and Joe Battat, Adam and Kit, Claudia and the late David. Cherished grandmother of Zach, Robert and Hydi, Ben and Martha, Liam and Addison, Thom and Emeline, Max, Ilai, Emanuelle and Eli. Proud great-grandmother of Rafael, Lily, Maya, and Jojo. Special sister and sister-in-law of David and Joan Genser, Roberta and Mayer Lawee; and sister-in-law of Joel and Sheila Slater. Greatly missed by her nieces, nephews, family, friends and by all who knew her.

The family would like to thank Drs. Shamy, Lipes, Chang, the doctors, nurses and staff at the Jewish General Hospital Palliative Care Unit as well as DeyDey, Linette and everyone who took such wonderful care of our Mom.

Funeral service from Paperman & Sons, 3888 Jean Talon St. W., on Sunday, November 10 at 9:30 a.m. Livestream available. Burial in Israel.

Donations in her memory may be made to the “Carol and Ron Scholarship” c/o Mothers Matter Canada 1-604-676-8250
Publish Date: Nov 9, 2024

CAROL SLATER

(née GENSER)


With great courage on Wednesday, November 6, 2024, surrounded by her family.
Treasured daughter of the late Esther and the late Percy. Beloved wife of Ron for 69 years. Loving mother and mother-in-law of Charles and Dina Slater, Erin and Joe Battat, Adam and Kitt, Claudia and the late David. Cherished grandmother of Zach, Robert and Hydi, Ben and Martha, Liam and Addison. Proud great-grandmother of Rafael, Lily, Maya, and Jojo. Special sister and sister-in-law of David and Joan Genser, Roberta and Mayer Lawee; and sister-in-law of Joel and Sheila Slater. Greatly missed by her nieces, nephews, family, friends and by all who knew her.
The family would like to thank Drs. Shamy, Lipes, Chang, the doctors, nurses and staff at the Jewish General Hospital Palliative Care Unit as well as DeyDey, Linette and everyone who took such wonderful care of our Mom.
Funeral service from Paperman & Sons, 3888 Jean Talon St. W., on Sunday, November 10 at 9:30 a.m. Live stream available. Burial in Israel.
Donations in her memory may be made to the “Carol and Ron Scholarship” c/o Mothers Matter Canada 1-604-676-8250

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