Rabbi Rifat
Sonsino, Ph.D.
March 1, 2019
“Keridos haverim. En tomando la palavra
delantre esta asistensya siendo el dover de rengrasyar nuestro karo professor…” (Translation:
Dear Friends. As I begin to address this audience, I feel I need to thank our
teacher…).
Thus I began my
talk on April 2, 1954 in a synagogue in Istanbul, Turkey. I was 16 years old. The language was
Ladino (or, Judeo-Spanish), spoken in Turkey and the Balkans by Jews since
their expulsion by the Spanish in 1492. Regrettably, after more than 500 years,
the language is now dying for lack of use, and the younger generations’ preference
for local languages.
In my childhood, we
spoke Ladino at home and Turkish in the streets. Most of our friends and
relatives were of Jewish descent, and spoke with each other only in Ladino. The
lectures and announcements in the Jewish houses of worship were done in Ladino.
We had a Jewish newspaper in Ladino. My maternal aunt was from Edirne, close to
the Greek border, and she spoke Ladino with a slight accent.
There is a great
deal of Jewish literature written in Ladino using Latin characters or Rashi
script (a semi-cursive typeface). My father knew how to write in Soletreo, a
special Ladino script, but I never learned it. The Meam Loez, a major
kabbalistic (mystical) commentary on the Hebrew Bible, was written in Ladino by
Rabbi Yaakov Kuli in 1730.We used to sing songs, like “Kuando el Rey Nimrod”
(When the King Nimrod), or “A la una nasi yo” (I was born at 1), “Non komo
nuestro Dio”(None like our God, En Kelohenu). Please note, it is DIO and
not DIOS (as in modern Spanish), for Dios could imply plurality, which Jews
rejected).
All this is disappearing.
Younger generations in Turkey do not speak Ladino. Turkish is their language. My two kids, one born in Argentina
and the other in the States, have no clue about Ladino. Because my wife is from
Buenos Aires, at least at the beginning with our son, we maintained Argentinian
Spanish at home, but that too soon disappeared. My children understand modern Spanish
and my grandchildren learn it in school. Ladino itself is becoming a language
studied only by academicians and historians. Even though some of my
contemporaries still speak Ladino or understand it, at the present time, it is
heavily saturated with Turkish words and expressions. The next generation is
not likely to speak the language at all. Five hundred plus years of creativity
will now be at the hands of a very few, if any.
Yes, there are
attempt to preserve Ladino as a spoken language, but, I believe, the efforts,
are in vain. Like many other ventures, this too will become part of history. At
least I am glad that I was exposed to this very rich literature of the past in
my childhood. The future belongs to my children and grandchildren. And this is
the way it ought to be.
