Shtender honors Aberdeen man's parents

By Seth Mandel

The Jewish State

It exploded from the barrel of gun aimed at everyone and no one at the same time, in December of 1947.

That stray bullet's purpose, however, and the gunpowder that truly gave it its force and baleful, menacing character, can be dated to November 29, 1947 -- the day partition was announced by the British and a Jewish state was all but established.

One thousand forty-five miles from Jerusalem, during the post-partition Arab riots in Aden, Yemen, that bullet killed Rabbi Mori Daood Hassan -- a grand but humble Torah scholar, dayan (judge), and shochet. But like the just-born State of Israel, and the service of God for which Daood Hassan gave his life, that name -- with its spiritual weight, resilience, integrity, and love -- would survive, and even come together, during the next 60 years.

Yehia David (as the family name "Daood" is known here) can retell the story of his great-grandfather as if he was there. David, who lives in Aberdeen with his wife, Sharon, and their three sons, Danny, Jason, and Sammy, is a gifted craftsman; he designed a 15-foot menorah for the local synagogue, Congregation Bet Tefilah, as well as two other large menorahs and an 18-foot-tall Chai.

And although his latest handiwork didn't need a flatbed truck to transport it, it dwarfs his other projects in sentimental value. David crafted a shtender to donate to the Adani synagogue in Tel Aviv in memory of his parents.

"My parents are buried in Tel Aviv," David said. "And I want to say that my family Daood are a big family in Israel, and we are proud of them. They also have the ‘golden' knowledge."

David was referring to a tradition in his family of a "golden gift" passed down through the generations. It is a colorful way to honor the link between each generation and the family's Adani patriarch, Mori Daood Hassan.

David's gift -- the golden hands -- may, however, be the most literal of the Daood genes passed down from his great-grandfather.

The story begins with Mori Daood Hassan in the early 1900s. Daood Hassan moved his family from a satellite community of Sana'a', the capital of Yemen, to the port city of Aden, with just a small amount of gold in his hand.

There, Daood Hassan became a great Torah scholar and community leader, and raised a big family. Daood Hassan's son, Mori Yehia, took after his father as a scholar and leader.

"He would give advice to the Jewish people, and any marriages that had problems, he would counsel them," David said of his grandfather Mori Yehia, for whom he is named.

Speaking in their native tongue, the adults had a term of endearment for their children, "children of gold." The men of the family could recite their Torah and prayers by heart; the women were strong, kind mothers who managed the large family with care and skill.

But times would get difficult for them. Aden, which was colonized by the British in the nineteenth century to protect Britain's ships from the pirates of the Arabian and Red seas, which sandwiched the Gulf of Aden, would succumb to the chaos of the Arab "solidarity" riots in 1947.

It was no longer a seaside fortress; Aden had descended into lawlessness. And so the Daood family moved to Israel. But things didn't get much easier, with so many Yemenite refugees living in camps.

David's parents, Mori Shimon and Miriam, decided to go back to Aden, where David was born.

In 1958, the family moved to London, where some of David's siblings stayed put.

Though the family is spread out between London, Tel Aviv, and Aberdeen, they remain close. David speaks highly of his family members, who, like his aunt Shoshana, have kept the family together no matter the distance between them.

That is one reason why David crafted the shtender for the Tel Aviv synagogue, to show his appreciation for having such a large, supportive family.

"I wanted to do something for the entire Daood family," he said. "I am truly blessed."

The shtender is also a tribute to his parents, who never let David forget that he was capable of such creations. In December, as David's giant menorah in front of Bet Tefilah was about to light up the Festival of Lights, he told The Jewish State about the very specific type of compliments received.

"People tell me I have golden hands, because they must really like the work that I do," David said.

It's doubtful all those people knew the significance of their choice of words, but they trigger a crystal clear memory of his father's clairvoyance.

"HaShem has given you a gift, and golden hands," David's father would tell him. "You have a great destiny in front of you."