My Neighbor from Bombay
By Shifra Shomron
(Eighteen years old)
24 Elul 5765
Nitzan Caravilla site
Several days ago, in her 60 square meter Caravilla, Simcha Shimshon passed away. Simcha used to be my neighbor. Back in beautiful Neve Dekalim she lived only three houses away.
I never knew much about her life story. She was from Bombay, India and had only one child – a grown son who lived with his family in the adjoining agricultural community of Gadid. Simcha loved her only son, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren. She constantly kept pictures of them before her.
I had often seen her slowly shuffle to a neighbor’s house in order to sit in their comfortable living room or lively kitchen and watch the children play and tease each other, or listen to the grownups’ conversation. In her own house, Simcha always kept the television or radio on, but I am sure that the elderly lady from Bombay found it much more interesting and enjoyable to sit in her Yemenite neighbor’s house and follow their family dynamics.
You see, Simcha loved life and, in her limited way, tried to be a part in ours and our neighbors’ lives.
There were times in which I would walk over (reluctantly, I shamefully admit) and help her around her house: I would sweep her floor, adjust the living room blinds, change the bedding and dump the garbage. She always greeted me with a smile, shuffled around and followed my actions. When I finished she would present me with a toffee candy or two.
My mother would encourage all of us children to spend time with our elderly neighbor but, aside from my three youngest siblings, none of us children really did so. Simcha’s attempts to sit in our living room didn’t work out despite my mother’s willingness, since the rest of us were not comfortable with this breach in our privacy.
Yet Simcha was happy. And busy. During the week she would sit in her Yemenite neighbor’s house, watch the children merrily playing at the playground right across the street, do arts and crafts at the Golden Age center in Neve Dekalim, attend Hebrew Ulpan classes at the bomb shelter next door to her house, watch television… and for Shabbats and holidays she always went to her son’s house and visited her grandchildren. She had her own house on a quarter of a dunam. She was independent, active and alert.
But Prime Minister Sharon’s “Disengagement Plan” changed things.
Like all other Gush Katif residents, Simcha also was banished from her house. Her devoted son managed to procure a Caravilla for her in the Nitzan Caravilla site. Since she was from Neve Dekalim, she was placed in the Neve Dekalim section.
Simcha was very sad. She didn’t like her new situation. She didn’t know where her old neighbors were (most of them being scattered in hotels), she didn’t have with what to occupy herself – the bus driver that she knew and liked and that used to drive her to the Golden Age center back in Neve Dekalim was now unemployed like most former Gush Katif residents, and….she yearned to return to her house in the Gush.
Seeking to improve his mother’s situation, her son arranged for her to move to a Caravilla in the Gadid section – in fact, to live right next door to him. So, yet again, Simcha’s belongings were packed up and moved. It must have been very stressful for her.
Monday, the 22nd of Elul (September 26, 2005), Simcha had either fallen and hit her head or had suffered from a stroke. Death was practically instantaneous.
Such was Simcha’s demise. The last thing she had been doing before her death was sitting on her couch and flipping through a picture album of her grandchildren. Former Gush Katif residents came to Nitzan from the various hotels in order to escort Simcha to her final resting place and comfort the grieving family.
I’m sorry that I never knew more about Simcha. Not even her exact age is known (she was in her mid-eighties); they didn’t have such documents in Bombay. She was clearly a well educated woman, fluent in both her Indian dialect and the English language. Looking at her fine facial features and at how she carried herself, my mother would say that she must have been very beautiful when she was younger.
Oh, Simcha! Happiness seems to have forsaken us for a time – but for a time only. Joy shall be ours once again!
And may your memory be blessed.
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