Festival wrap up and writing competition winner

We are excited to have hosted another successful Sydney Jewish Writers Festival. We hope you enjoyed it as much as we did. The range of outstanding presenters, the diversity of subjects and the thought provoking ideas all combined to make it a wonderful Festival with over 500 people attending over 3 days. We have put many photos on our Facebook page and encourage you to tag yourself. 

Thanks to all our amazing presenters and volunteers, we couldn't have done it without you. 

We wanted to post the outstanding winning entry for this year's Australian Jewish News writing competition:

KIBBUTZ MOTHER

By Elle Kaye

Typical Kibbutz

She was pregnant again. It had taken her time to work it out but now she knew. It had been five years since the last pregnancy and she thought she was done. She placed her hand protectively on the tiny bump that she only now acknowledged for what itwas. A girl. She could tell.

She vacillated between joy and dread as she contemplated the being inside her. She allowed herself to close her eyes and fantasise about this one. About holding her. Kissing her all over her soft, downy head. Smelling her. Breathing her in. comforting her. Brushing away her tears. Smiling at her. Singing to her. Rocking her. And then she opened her eyes. Enough silliness, she scolded herself.

Children at Kibbutz

When she had left her family for the Kibbutz she didn’t think about children. In the early days, she didn’t think she wanted any. She watched the other women grow fat with their children and she judged them and their supposed sickness, their supposed fatigue. Any excuse not to work, she had scoffed. She judged them their weakness and tears – of course the children should be raised collectively. What did they think this was? Summer camp? She judged them their tears and their milk stained clothes and their softness. This was no place for softness.

When she had the first one she tried, and succeeded, to remain as distant as possible. When they discouraged her from breastfeeding too often, she agreed. It would only spoil the child.

When they recommended against visiting during the workday,

she blushed with embarrassment. Of course she mustn’t coddle

her. So she determined to set an example. She kept away. She

weaned her as soon as possible. Understanding the other

mothers now, she only judged them more harshly. When they spoke of their grief, of their need to be with their babies, she tut-tutted and continued with her work. But the ache. The ache within her. That parasitic ache for her child. She ignored it. She would conquer it.

She spent the required hour a day with the baby. The smell as she walked up the path towards the room made her sick. Chicken soup. Every day, at this hour, the children were fed chicken soup. She would be handed a yellow or orange bowl of mushed chicken and vegetables. She would spoon the mush into her wary daughter’s mouth. She watched in judgment as the other mothers smiled and cooed at their children. She held her head

high as the woman in charge of the babies praised her for

treating her daughter like an adult. For refusing to talk gibberish at her. She was assured that her daughter would grow up to be a useful member of the collective. She nodded. Smiled tightly. That

was the aim after all. The mission. Wasn’t it?

The second child was male. And she was told to be even tougher

with him. But her resolve crumbled like the quiver of her lips as

she had to hand him over too. She ran into the thorn fields and

allowed herself to sob then. And then, she returned to work. And

told her man there would be no more.

But this time. This baby. This baby she did not want to let go.

She felt like a petulant toddler. She wanted to stamp her foot. To

holler and scream and hit the floor with her fists, her head.

Image: bajasfamilyrestaurant

Wanted someone to listen to her. But what would she say? What did she know? She was just ignorant. Corrupted by the bourgeoisie values of the family she left.

It was time to visit the children. She walked down the path and smelled the familiar sickening smell. She knew her nausea had nothing to do with her pregnancy. She fed them. Gave them the perfunctory kiss that was expected. She stood and left. 
The fragrance of the chicken soup lingered as she shut the door behind her.

CHUTZPAH : THREE QUESTIONS THAT CAN ONLY BE ASKED OF A JEWISH AUTHOR

Pnina Jacobson & Judy Kempler

ONE EGG IS A FORTUNE

How does your writing reflect your Jewish identity?


In writing our book, One Egg Is A Fortune, we recalled the happy times from our own childhoods, and also more recently in bringing up our children. Many of these memories are associated with Friday night dinners and Jewish festivals, family and friends getting together and the sharing of meals, experiences and stories.  It is these celebrations that make us who we are as a people. Our writing reveals that food and stories are the very ingredients to our Jewish identity.

Has there been a seminal event in your Jewish life that has shaped the person you are today?


Judy: I find it difficult to pinpoint a single determining event in my Jewish life. I had a wonderful childhood and grew up with a strong connection to family, friends, learning and Jewish traditions – the annual ‘open-house’ breaking of the fast with cousins, and cousins of cousins, and friends of cousins, Friday night dinners and long family Sunday afternoon lunches and high teas– these were all sacred occasions and not to be missed.

When I moved to live in Singapore in the 1990s with my husband John and our three children, for the first time I understood what it was like to be in a minority. We were the only Jewish family in our school community, and the differences in our values and cultures became more noticeable to me.  This experience instilled a great sense of Jewish identity, and made me proud to share my heritage with new friends.  Returning home, it became more important that our children had a Jewish education, to learn to be respectful of others, to motivate involvement in our community and to love being Jewish.


The production of One Egg Is A Fortune has also been quite influential in shaping who I am today. The book’s genesis began over 11 years ago. At the time, I was a carer for my late mother-in-law and realised that so much more was needed to help our ageing community. Pnina and I decided that part of the proceeds from this book would support Jewish aged care. This goal in raising funds for the aged has truly deepened my connection to the community, and strengthened my ongoing personal commitment to give back. In addition to this, through our combined determination and sharing this project, Pnina and I have a formed an extraordinary friendship that will last a lifetime.  


Pnina:  I had a wonderful childhood growing up on a farm in Bethal, South Africa, 100km away from Johannesburg. My parents kept a kosher home and we celebrated all the Jewish festivals with family and friends.  Bethal had a thriving Jewish community with over 100 Jewish families which also included a rabbi, a beautiful synogogue and Jewish community hall. We attended cheder (Hebrew school) three times a week, and children’s services on Shabbat. There was also an active Women's Zionist Federation and many charitable events were held to raise funds for Israel. My parents sacrificed a lot for me and my siblings to attend a Jewish day school in Johannesburg. This upbringing has shaped my Jewish identity and I hope I have provided this same loving and supportive home for my own family here in Sydney.


Ma nishtanah? (aka why is your book different from any other book?)


On the inside cover of One Egg Is A Fortune we have a saying, “A wise man once said, ‘We came, we saw, we conquered - let’s eat!’” This captures the spirit of our book. So read, eat and enjoy! And when you’ve read one story, read another, and another. Heaven forbid you should go away hungry!A three-time award winner on the international stage, One Egg Is A Fortune is not just another cookbook. This recognition, combined with the ongoing positive press in online and print media, is evidence of its unique nature and appeal to a wide variety of readers and cookbook enthusiasts, both within and outside of the Jewish community.Our book is as much, if not more, about the people behind the recipes, rather than the recipes alone.  To be able to provide such insight into the families and traditions of 50 prominent Jewish individuals from around the world is indeed unique. We offer a smorgasbord of stories and cuisines from both men and women alike.

While each contributor tells a story, their anecdotes suggest that the enjoyment of food is the common thread that binds us together. No matter our location, profession or prestige, food and family relationships is an underlying universality of our Jewish heritage


The awards


Best in the World  2012 Gourmand World Cookbook Awards, Australia-Pacific Fundraising, Charity and Community
Silver Award for cookbooks,  2012 IPPY
Winner  2012 The National Indie Excellence Awards, Cookbooks


Pnina Jacobson and Judy Kempler will be talking Jews and food at the Sydney Jewish Writers' Festival on Sunday 26 August, from 6.15pm - 7.15pm.
Craig Cranko, the photographer for One Egg is a Fortune, will be our next guest blogger.