by Rabbi Shlomo Galperin
I grew up in Tashkent, in Uzebekistan, then part of the Soviet Union. Sukkot was always an important celebration for our family, and the close-knit Chassidic community we were part of. I shared previously shared about my family’s Sukkah built in the inner courtyard of our Tashkent home that many community members came to celebrate in, which I remember as an expanding barrel-shape…
But then, in 1966, a massive earthquake hit Tashkent. Many homes were destroyed, whole neighborhoods were in ruins. In a show of unity and support, many Soviet republics came to Tashkent and sent large amounts of supplies to rebuild the city, but in a modernized central government fashion. Instead of private homes, new large apartment buildings sprung up, new neighborhoods were built in a relatively short time and there was a mass migration from the old neighborhoods to the new.
As Sukkot approached, this was a problem. In our old house, we had an inner courtyard, hidden from street view, and it was possible to build a Sukkah there. Which is precisely why my grandfather was so eager to buy that property. But with high-rise apartment buildings and the newly planned neighborhoods there was simply no place to build a Sukkah. What to do?
The community looked high and low. Finally they came upon an Uzbek Muslim who had a property not far from where the new buildings went up, but who had refused all government assistance. His business was in small animals, he raised goats and sheep, and needed his small plot of land and refused to leave. On his land there was a collapsed barn. The walls were still up but the roof had caved in. Would he allow them to use that barn for a week of meals and celebration?
The Uzbek farmer was very skeptical. Why would they have use of a barn with no roof? And the place smelled of animals, it was dirty and broken, it was no place to host a meal or party. But they offered to clean it up and said they would use some branches for cover. The offer of payment was good and he was intrigued, so he finally agreed.
Not only did we have beautiful Sukkot meals there, but we even danced there Simchat Torah! I remember that we took off our shoes to dance, so as not to ruin the (newly laid?) clay floor. The first few nights the Uzbek farmer peeked in to see what we were doing there, but just seeing happy celebrations, he was happy for us to enjoy and he stopped peeking in.
And thus, even after the Tashkent earthquake, and the loss of our own home and our own Sukkah, we were able to enjoy a beautiful Sukkot again as a Jewish community – thanks to this Uzbek Muslim and his collapsed barn, which he refused to leave behind!