Book Excerpt | Sweet Malida: Memories of a Bene Israel Woman, By Zilka Joseph

Sweet Malida

Sweet malida,

a mix of water-softened

flattened rice, sugar,

dried fruits and nuts,

was a dish made

for Shabbath, or for breaking

our fasts. Cooling, light

on the palate, and

to the body and the spirit,

it was welcome in the heat

of day or night. We had many foods

in common with our Muslim,

Christian and Hindu neighbors,

and we often celebrated together

their festivals or ours. I relished

particularly fresh coconut,

the regional staple, its milk

or its flesh added to almost

every dish. But this was to me

the best way to eat it;

finely grated

by my mother’s hands,

left unsweetened

and sprinkled haphazardly

on the malida, juicy threads

with a fleck of stubborn

brown kernel here and there

that sometimes crunched

in your teeth like sand,

and you winced and swallowed it,

knowing that there was no

simpler or purer

or truer form than that.

Not One Fish

—David Rahabi is a central figure in many stories, including one saying that

he came in 1000 CE. He may actually have been David Ezekiel Rahabi (1694-

1772) from Cochin on the Malabar Coast, south of Konkan, who helped to

revive Judaism among the Bene Israel.

So David Rahabi of Malabar traveled north up the west coast

and encountered the shanwar telis, who had taken the names of

the villages for their own. He wondered at the oil pressers and

farmers, others who made a living by other rural professions, these

women and men who had lived as a caste among the locals. So long

unknown, this mysterious community, so apart from the urban world.

They did not call themselves Jews, nor did they know the word. But

he was impressed by the ancient rituals they practiced, the powerful

prayer they remembered and used for all occasions—the Shema

Israel, which had kept them together.

As legend goes, he asked the women to prepare a feast for him

from the bounty of the Arabian Sea.

Would they pick crab and shrimp?

Mussel, clam, or bottom feeders?

No.

Not

one

fish.

Not one

fish

without

fins and scales

had they chosen.

Not one fish

without fins

or scales

was served.

They brought him white-fleshed fish like paplet, and oily fish

like bangda and tarli, fresh and flavorful, and salty as the waters that

brought the Bene Israel hence from the land of Solomon and David.

He knew then: they kept kosher,

a word they did not recall,

just kept a simple faith

in the God of Abraham.

Choral Sonnet

We knew the Shema, kept Shabbath, diet

rules, performed circumcision on our sons,

observed Passover. We lived in our own

world, thrived. Christians discovered us. Later

they taught us Hebrew, translated holy

books to Marathi, educated us,

but could not convert us. Lost Tribes?—folks said,

some laughed, impure. Even among us we

separated “dark” from “fair.” From Kochi

came Rahabi, who sent us three scholars.

Torah, rituals, rules, we absorbed daily.

Did we need anything to define us?

Let the world scoff at the Cohanim gene

found in our blood. We always knew the truth.

About the Author:

Zilka Joseph is the author of five collections of poetry. Her work is influenced by Indian and Western cultures, and her Bene Israel roots. Her poems have appeared in journals such as Poetry, Poetry Daily, Kenyon Review Online, Michigan Quarterly Review.

About the Cover Artist

Born Raina Rahael Ezekiel into Parsi and Bene Israel families, in Bombay, India, and lives in Portland, Oregon.

Published by Mayapple Press, Pippa Rann Books & Media in 2024