Uzbekistan's 35th Independence Day was celebrated at the Heychal Hatarbut (The Culture Hall) in Tel Aviv. The occasion also marked 34 years of diplomatic relations between Israel and Uzbekistan. Some 400 people gathered in Zucker Hall at the Culture Hall to celebrate Uzbekistan's Independence Day.
There was something almost undiplomatic about the scale of the evening. It was larger, more generous and more lavishly produced than the familiar format of Independence Day celebrations hosted by foreign countries in Israel. It was hard not to feel that someone had decided that this time, a polite raising of glasses would not be enough. This time, they wanted to show, to play, to feed and to tell a story.
The main partner in the celebration was the Bukharian Jewish Congress, headed by Lev Leviev. Anyone who knows Leviev knows that when he hosts, the word "modest" is not necessarily the first one that comes to mind. Last night, that abundance could be felt everywhere, but so could something else: pride. Pride in Bukharian heritage, in the ties with Uzbekistan, and in the shared story that has been unfolding here across generations.
Even before the music began and the speeches were delivered, hundreds of guests made their way through the underground reception area, where a large buffet had almost become a show in its own right. The air was filled with the warm, deep and sweet aromas of Bukharian cuisine. Fragrant rice, meat, dough seared by heat, spices blooming in hot oil, and the familiar scent of food prepared in abundance while still trying to taste like something made at home.
The buffet tables were laden with osh palov, bakash, mantur, samsa, bishak and other delicacies from Bukharian cuisine. The osh palov, with its rice, meat and spices, was the kind of food that could not simply be looked at. The aroma did the work before the fork ever arrived. Beside it came pastries, crisp on the outside and softer within. Anyone raised on Bukharian cuisine knows its remarkable ability to make you eat "just one more", only to discover that fifteen minutes have already passed.
The buffet was prepared by "Yummy" Catering, a strictly kosher catering company headed by Yoel Margaliyot. It was difficult to imagine a more fitting opening to an evening that sought to present a culture: taste first, listen afterward.
As is well known, Bukhara, a historic city in Uzbekistan, was for centuries an important center of Jewish life in all Central Asia. This is where the name "Bukharian Jews" originated, becoming a collective term for the indigenous Jews of the region, particularly in what are today Uzbekistan and Tajikistan. From the late 16th century onward, Bukhara grew in importance as a regional Jewish center, and during the 18th and 19th centuries it became the most important religious and communal center of Central Asian Jewry.
From the reception area, the guests made their way into Zucker Hall at the Culture Hall. On stage, a Bukharian ensemble welcomed the audience with folk melodies, traditional instruments and a rhythm that seemed to arrive from a world far removed from Tel Aviv. At one point, the sound of a long wind instrument, reminiscent of a shofar, filled the hall, adding an almost ceremonial note to the evening, perhaps particularly appropriate given that the event took place on the eve of Rosh Hashanah.
When the hall was full, the audience was asked to stand for the national anthems of Uzbekistan and Israel. A film presenting Uzbekistan followed, portraying a country of ancient Silk Road cities, blue domes, bazaars, deserts and cities rapidly entering the 21st century.
The first speaker was Uzbekistan's Ambassador to Israel, H.E. Jakhongir Aminov. In his address, he proudly presented the economic and educational reforms undertaken in his country and the pragmatic foreign policy of President Shavkat Mirziyoyev, while also mentioning his predecessor, Islam Karimov, the first president of independent Uzbekistan.
But then the speech moved from economics to memory, and from statistics to the heart.
"The story of Bukharian Jewry is part of the story of Uzbekistan," Aminov declared. He described Bukharian Jewry as a "bridge of friendship" between the two countries and added a sentence that sounded almost like a parable: "The bridge will continue to exist as long as people want to walk across it."
He concluded by blessing the audience in Hebrew: "Shana Tova!"
Then came the most ceremonial moment of the evening. Lev Leviev was invited onto the stage, where Ambassador Aminov presented him with the prestigious “Friendship of Peoples” Medal of the Government of Uzbekistan for the recognition of his exceptional contribution to advancing international friendship, mutual understanding, and unity among peoples. In addition, the ambassador placed on Leviev's shoulders a traditional Uzbek white robe (Chapan), embroidered with gold in the zardozi style. For a moment, an Israeli businessman stood on stage wrapped in a garment rooted in centuries of tradition, with the flags of the two countries behind him.
Leviev thanked the guests and said: "We were fortunate to be born in Uzbekistan." He spoke about his grandfather, who used to say: "In order to remain Jewish, you must study."
Leviev thanked Ambassador Aminov for opening doors for him within the Uzbek bureaucracy and invited other Bukharian businesspeople in the audience to do business in Uzbekistan.
Leviev also spoke about spending Sukkot with his family in Samarkand last year, and about his decision to build a Jewish Mall there. People told him, Leviev said, that there were hardly any Jews left in Samarkand, and therefore asked whom he was building it for.
His answer was simple: "For the Jews who will come."
According to Leviev, some 100,000 Jews visit Samarkand each year, and he believes many more will come. The planned center will also include a large and magnificent synagogue. Leviev invited the audience to join a major tour of Samarkand that the Bukharian Jewish Congress is planning for May.
Yet of everything said that evening, it was the historical story of European Jews who reached Uzbekistan during the Holocaust that stayed with me most.
During the Holocaust, when Europe closed its doors to Jews, when trains carried families toward death and many countries turned their backs on refugees, Uzbekistan became a place of refuge for many of our people. Many Jews were evacuated or fled eastward to Central Asia during the war, and many found shelter, food and a place where they could continue to breathe. Archival documents record tens and hundreds of thousands of Jewish refugees arriving in the region, and in Israel, a deep memory remains of the hospitality shown by the Uzbek people.
It is a story that is difficult to read without pausing.
We tend to remember the Holocaust primarily through the names of camps, barbed wire, trains, ghettos and crematoria. But within that vast and terrible story there were other places, too. Places where a door opened. Where someone shared a piece of bread. Where a local family agreed to welcome strangers into its home, even when it had little to spare itself. And these were not only Jewish families, but Muslim families as well.
Today, decades later, that memory carries a special meaning. Not because it erases the evil, but because it reminds us that during a period when humanity seemed almost to have disappeared, there were still people who chose it.
Leviev also spoke about this connection during the ceremony. He emphasized that Uzbekistan is a Muslim country that respects Jews and Christians, and that relations of friendship between Jews and Muslims have continued for generations. "I am certain that our friendship will continue for many years and many generations," he said.
The words took on a particularly personal meaning when spoken by Minister Ze'ev Elkin, who represented the Israeli government at the event. He said that Uzbekistan was the country he particularly loved visiting, even before he was elected to the Knesset. Then he revealed a family detail that touched everyone in the hall: his grandmother survived the Holocaust by fleeing to Uzbekistan, where she lived for several years in the city of Shahrisabz.
Suddenly, Uzbekistan was no longer simply a country in Central Asia.
It was a place where someone's grandmother had fled. A place where a life story had been hidden. A place that allowed one woman to survive, build a family, and decades later see her grandson standing on a stage in Tel Aviv telling the story.
Elkin congratulated Bukharian Jews in Israel, who have achieved remarkable success in business and the economy, as well as in the military, security and academic fields. He was followed by Rabbi Zvadia Cohen, Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv, who also serves as head of the rabbinical court of the Bukharian community in Israel.
The evening concluded with certificates of appreciation presented to people for their social and educational contributions.
Then, as happens at such events, the lights began to soften, people drifted away, and the great hall slowly emptied. Those who stepped back onto the streets of Tel Aviv carried with them, perhaps, the taste of osh palov, the sweetness of the pastries, the Bukharian melodies and the image of a white chapan embroidered with gold.
But perhaps what remained above all was a simpler idea.
Countries speak of diplomatic relations in numbers: 34 years, embassies, visits, agreements, trade and tourism. People remember things differently. They remember a grandmother who fled. A house that opened its door. A bowl of food placed on a table. A child who survived. A family that continued to exist.
Perhaps that is the true meaning of a bridge between peoples. Not a bridge that appears on a map, but one that people are actually willing to cross.
Last night, in Tel Aviv, Uzbeks and Israelis spoke of such a bridge. And at the end of the evening, amid the sounds of Central Asia and the aroma of spices that lingered in the air long after the guests had left, the bridge seemed to be more than an idea. It had become a family story, a memory, a taste, and perhaps also a promise for the future.