Israel was in their hearts

It was like traveling back in time. As though time had frozen and preserved images, sounds and scents from past eras. Another world, far away and foreign. Exactly like in biblical stories. That was my experience during my first visit to Yemen in the summer of 1991, and that is what I told people when I returned to Israel.

I have been on many journeys since then, including return trips to Yemen. But my first trip there was unforgettable. An emotional journey. I remember well the drive in a white Mercedes, taking me from the capital, Sanaa, to the town of Raydah. I remember the entrance to the market and the sweet smiling face of a little boy peeking out at me. I looked back at him. There was no doubt: He was a Jewish boy. His big smile was framed by two long sidelocks and capped by a large kippah. That was the first Jewish child I met in Yemen: Zohar Gavri.

The recent reports about the Jews who have just immigrated to Israel from Yemen took me back to my various visits in the terror- and war-stricken country. They took me back to a conversation I had 25 years ago with a Yemenite Jew who dreamed even then of moving to Israel. He wanted to show me how the local community strictly preserved a Jewish way of life.

My host slaughtered our lunch before my eyes, a chicken that had been wandering in his yard. He told me about his dream to move to Israel. I told him that I was sure his dream would come true soon. On Monday, I took my old photos out of storage and remembered my wonderful host, Rabbi Sliman Nahari, once again. He has finally come home.

My first trip to Yemen is also hard to forget because of the tense nights before the plane took off. It was only a few months after the first Gulf War. At the time, Yemen belonged to Saddam Hussein's coalition. Then, like today, Jews were not safe in Yemen. First Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser, then Iraq, then al-Qaida and then the Houthis. Never mind other local residents, who have gone as far as to murder Jews. It's not the place for Jewish people.

Twenty-five years after my visit, I remembered a conversation that I had had with Nahari: "How many people died in Israel-" he asked me, referring to the Gulf War. "They told us here that Saddam Hussein killed 500,000 Israelis."

I told him that only one person was killed in a direct hit from a Scud missile, and that a few others had died from heart attacks. He looked at me beaming.

"I know," he confessed. "I listen to Israel Radio [on a shortwave radio]."

He, like his friends, nurtured a deep connection to Israel. It may have taken them a while to make the physical move, but in their hearts and souls, they made aliyah a long time ago.

"Even if the Kingdom of Yemen were to be fine with us, Yemen is not the home of the Jewish people," the rabbi said.

I left Yemen with a heavy heart. Our brothers were left behind, each for their own reason. Some of the reasons were very mundane -- some people told me that they had properties there, and it would not be easy to just get up and leave. The last time I visited Yemen was in 2010. It took me a week to get to Raydah, which is cut off from the capital, just like the rest of the country. At the time, Yemen had become the al-Qaida capital. The rabbi's son had been murdered, which is what brought me back there.

On Monday, I thought to myself that I had the privilege of seeing the Yemenite Jewish community in its natural environment. Now, we have the privilege to see its members in an even more natural setting. After all, that is exactly why we, and they, have a state.

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