It’s not easy to put on a Jewish-Arab peace festival in Paris...

It’s not easy to put on a Jewish-Arab peace festival in Paris...

The intentions were excellent. To bring together Jewish and Arab singers and musicians, representatives of all the peoples of the region, for a huge peace festival in Paris. A huge festival in a huge circus tent in the north of the city.

The organizers, members of the “Roots and Diasporas” organization, approached singers living in France from most of the countries and diasporas, including even a genuine Palestinian singer from Beirut named al-Kurd. The main thing, they said, was that it be without politics.

Then, first of all, came political problems. The PLO, it turned out, forbade the Palestinian singer to perform and also threatened all the other participants, except that for them the parallel threat of legal action if they broke the contract was more frightening than the PLO.

After that came the turn of the threats from the Algerian government or its official representatives. They threatened to cancel the passports of three women singers who were supposed to take part in the festival and even to accuse them of treason. The three canceled their performances.

After that—the audience. Only two thousand people came, instead of tens of thousands.

Most of them—good, enthusiastic Jews. There was indeed an Arab friend from Jerusalem at the site who happened to come by chance. There may have been a few more, no more than that. But the show went ahead, and the one who emerged as its main star was דווקא an elderly Jewish singer, originally from Algeria, Sylvain Ghrensia. He is none other than the biological and legitimate father of Enrico Macias. The father, I can assure you, did not disgrace his famous son.

A band from Egypt did perform, as did a Kurdish band from Syria, which sang songs of fighters for Kurdish independence, and a Berber band from Morocco. In short, a festival of the downtrodden, the minorities. The Jewish majority, at least vocally, was represented by the Yiddish singer Ben Zimet; the Ladino singer; the Israeli dance and singing troupe “Pa‘amei Aviv”; and a singer named Sarah Alexander who lives in France. She began with a long speech, which was met with many boos over the oppression of the Palestinians in Israel. But afterward, when she began to sing, some regretted that they had not let her continue speaking.

In conclusion: there was a festival with songs. Not every festival will be like that—perhaps next time.

The firefighter who made sure he had work...

Until today there had been [illegible] about policemen. [illegible]

This past week—believe it or not—[illegible] a “pyromaniac.” [illegible] the policeman Lamar, who [illegible] firefighters about [illegible] possible fires in the district.

Not long ago it turned out that policeman Lamar was none other than the mysterious murderer. It is interesting that Lamar’s name is chiefly known because of the daring chases he carried out after the then-elusive murderer, sometimes literally risking his life. (At the last moment he pulled his car off railway tracks before [illegible] and the like, just like in the movies.) You can imagine what a sensation it caused when it turned out he had actually been chasing himself. By the way, what finally gave him away were his detective’s ears. Just like Rabin... Now he has a serious competitor.

Unexplained fires, without a dire warning beforehand, had been raging for weeks in the [illegible] area of the Pyrenees. The area’s brave firefighters battled the spreading flames day and night, at great risk to themselves. But these days it turned out that the person responsible for the enormous blaze was none other than Daniel Ray, son of [illegible], a brave firefighter among the local firemen. A large store of explosives and fuses was found in his home, labeled as being for “arson.” To provide himself with interesting work. The newspapers wrote that he suffered from pyromania, but objective people believe there is something else here [illegible] in this period of rampant unemployment...

Who is robbing the “Metro”?

[illegible] the Paris police [illegible] in the Metro. [illegible] the “criminals [illegible]” [illegible] “Karin” [illegible] and reaches [illegible] about 60 [illegible] within [illegible].

But the few robbers who were arrested aroused unusual curiosity. One night, a young man carrying a “walkie-talkie” was arrested; he was in contact with another young man who was trying to make a haul at the entrance to the Metro. He told a strange story. The Metro robberies, he said, are organized by an entire network with ideological motives. They are French people of Algerian origin, Jews and Catholics, who want to contribute money—meaning, not exactly their own money—to overthrowing the current regime in their homeland, so that one day they can return to it.

The judges, of course, found the story hard to “swallow.”

But since then, according to certain sources, several more young men have been caught with exactly the same story. The police suspect, so they say, that this involves a “very important person” in the organization of the Paris “Metro” and railways, who supplies the young robbers with an ideological motive as well as accurate maps and timetables. The investigation continues. So do the break-ins, with or without ideology.

The “network” of Paris

I can let you in on something that will stay just between us. I can tell you what the “network” of Paris is.

The “network” was born immediately after the Second World War. It turned out that many telephone lines installed by the Germans and taken out of service at the Liberation could nevertheless still be used.

You dial a disconnected number. The recording gives the required answer. But you wait a little anyway, and then—very strange voices reach your ears (if you’re lucky).

“Napoleon calling Josephine; Louis calling Marie Antoinette”... Like the good old days of the Resistance. Marguerite Duras has even based a play and a film on it.

At this point, all you have to do is choose a suitable code name. For example! “Eric calling Balladur,” or whatever you like). And join in.

And many, many couples, or other combinations, for a night or longer, met this way. I would gladly give you some numbers here too, if they did not change constantly, for variety and security reasons. But if, nevertheless, you want a hint, look for those who use the regular meeting places of the “network people.” Café “Coupole,” or Café “Interlude”—and if you’re one of them, there’s no problem.

By the way, I wonder how this works back home. I think at most one can arrange something with the recording. Sometimes, I’ll let you in on another secret, it’s actually a clean spirit.

A musical problem

Perhaps someone will explain this to me. At the “Palais Royal” Metro station there stands an old, blind man playing our national anthem, “Hatikvah,” on the violin, with a trembling hand. He dwells especially, again and again, on the line “Our hope is not yet lost,” and plays it in a particularly discordant tone.

You can’t talk to him. So I ask you, musicians and enthusiasts, what is going on here? Who sent him? Why does he do it? Did he once work for the Broadcasting Authority? Ha!