Bachmal Yusupova

From the memoirs of Frida Namatieva, daughter of Shmuel Mavashev:

“My mother was Rivko Bahmal bat Azarya Yusupov and Khushni Borokhov. Her lineage can be traced back to Haham Esef Mamona (1741-1822). His daughter, Bibi Soro Mamona, married Avraham Yazdi Cohen. From this marriage, a son, Moshe Borukh Cohen, was born. He married Bibi Ester, and they had a son named Esef Hakohen, who later married Bibi Malko Haham (the sister of Shimon Haham, the niece of Shimon Haham himself). In this marriage, they had eight children, one of whom was Azarya Hakohen ben Esef – the father of Rivko Bahmal.”

Historical background: The surnames of Bukharan Jews were assigned by the Russian authorities after the annexation of Central Asia to the Russian Empire. This process began in the mid-19th century and continued into the early 20th century. Typically, the surnames of Bukharan Jews were created based on the father’s or mother’s name, with the addition of the Russian suffix “-ov.” By the early 20th century, Azarya Hakohen ben Esef was given the surname Yusupov. In 1909, he married Khushni Borokhova, and they had eight children, one of whom was Rivko Bahmal. Her birth took place on a Saturday, and on that day, her father wrote in his diary: “She was born on Saturday. On the same day, I went to the synagogue to pray before the Torah scroll and gave her the name Rivko Bahmal, may the girl grow up healthy and happy.”

As the youngest in the family, Bahmal was spoiled with the love of her brothers and sisters. She possessed an exceptional analytical mind and excelled in her studies, remaining a curious child. Her recollections of her childhood reflect her fondness for learning and an interest in her father’s culture. Her father was proficient in many languages, a talented poet, and a translator, which is an essential part of the family’s history.

Bahmal aspired to become a doctor, but the war altered her life’s course, and she started working to support her family. In 1946, immediately after the war, she married Shmuel Mavashev, who had returned from the front. From her recollections of their meeting, it is clear how deeply she fell in love with him. After their wedding, they moved to Tashkent, where she began working in trade, and later, they welcomed their daughter Frida. The family continued its journey, and Bahmal actively supported her husband in pursuing higher education.

Photo: Shmuel Mavashev with his wife Berta.

From the memories of Frida Namatieva, the daughter of Frida:

“Father often met mother at her workplace, and sometimes he would come to pick her up with me. Mother worked at the train station in a small kiosk that could hardly be called a store. I always eagerly awaited visiting my mother at work because it smelled so delicious there. The kiosk’s display cases were filled with sweets and gingerbread, various kinds of cheese, and fragrant smoked fish. For me, it was a world filled with the scents of sweet tales. Father would seat me on the counter next to the goods, and mother would continue working, while father counted the money. Then they would close the kiosk, hand over the day’s earnings to the store manager, and we would all return home together. Mother continued working in retail until 1956 when an unfortunate accident revealed her heart condition. After that, she dedicated her time to managing the household and raising me. Despite the fact that the family’s sole breadwinner was my father, mother made sure it seemed like our home always had plenty, and there was never a shortage. Our house was always stocked with wine, vodka, various pickled vegetables, jams made by both my mother and father’s hands. She was an excellent cook and baked amazing homemade rolls and pies. In character, she was lively and resolute.

Mother often took me with her to the market. We usually went there in the evenings when the products were cheaper. Mother was a master of the art of bargaining and knew how to negotiate lower prices with the sellers. Sometimes, she was so skillful in her negotiations that the vendors eventually agreed to her terms and lowered the prices. Since most of the sellers were from collective farms, they sometimes made mistakes in counting. So when we got back home, we had both the products and some of the money saved. When I asked my mother how she did it, she would say, ‘Sweetie, they simply can’t count.’

Mother enjoyed reading in Tajik. She was drawn to the poems and stories of Muhi and Shulamit Tillayev, and she took pleasure in the literary works of local authors.

From the memories of Frida’s daughter:

I remember how during the holidays, such as Passover, Rosh Hashanah, and Sukkot, her mother’s native sister, Tamara, would come to visit. The two, kindred spirits both in blood and soul, would sit together at the festively set table and read their grandfather Azarya’s autobiographical book. They would read, reminisce, sing, rejoice, and cry.

Beautiful friendships were formed by her with everyone she encountered along her journey. Bahmal had a deep understanding of kindness and selflessness and was always ready to help anyone, regardless of the circumstances.”

From the memories of the daughter:

“We lived in Tashkent on C-5. Across the street lived a Muslim family. One winter evening, their son passed away. According to Uzbek tradition, the funeral was accompanied by generous hospitality and prayers. People flocked to the deceased’s apartment to support the grieving family and offer their condolences. Mother cleared two large rooms, and in our apartment, mats were laid along the walls. For several days, we hosted the funeral for a completely unfamiliar person.

Having received a religious-secular upbringing, Bahmal observed all Jewish customs and traditions. During the holidays of Rosh Hashanah, Passover, and Sukkot, kosher food was prepared at home, and Yom Kippur was observed with fasting. Bahmal was an excellent mother, a faithful and devoted wife, a hospitable host, and a kind person.

On May 9th, Victory Day over Nazi Germany, all of Dad’s brothers and their wives, sisters and their husbands, nieces, and nephews gathered in our house. We came together to reminisce about those distant days that had brought happiness to each one present. The table was overflowing with dishes prepared by Mom. Dad raised a glass for the living and remembered the deceased. Mom would occasionally approach him and whisper, ‘Shurik, that’s enough.’ And Dad would reply, ‘You know what day it is today? I remembered! I remembered, who else we need to raise a toast for!’ he’d say. ‘Let’s drink to our parents.’ Mom remained silent. After all, parents are sacred.

She loved to sing and had a beautiful, tender voice. The younger generation didn’t speak Tajik very well, but the melody and her voice captivated all who listened.

From the memories of the daughter:

Mom loved to sing and listen to songs by popular singers of that time, such as Rena Galibova and Shoista Mulajanova. She had a songbook with their song lyrics. Every time Mom was in the kitchen, in addition to the aromatic smells of food, her beautiful voice would be heard: ‘Namēdonam chi mēkardam dar olam be tooyoo, be yer.’ And her favorite song was ‘Chinu-Chin’ (Chinu-Chinu-Chinu-Chin – mokhi too kamchi-nu chin).

In 1970, I married Mikhail Namatiev. In 1971, Bahmal and Shmuel became grandparents for the first time when our daughter Alyosha was born. In 1973, their first grandson, Albert, arrived. They were actively involved in raising their grandchildren.

In 1979, our family repatriated to Israel. Mom had an extraordinary intellect and a good memory. After arriving in Israel, my children went to school, and we were assigned to an ulpan to learn the language. Mom, as always, supported us in managing the household and looked after the grandchildren. While we struggled to learn Hebrew, she quietly engaged in self-education. Between housework, she studied Hebrew. She wrote, read, and understood some words. In disputes with her grandchildren, she always said, ‘Do you think I don’t understand? I understood everything.’ Then they all laughed together loudly.

In Israel, Bahmal did not lose her love for literature. She was supplied with books in Tajik by Yosef Gulkarov, who at the time was the editor and host of the radio channel in Bukharan. She managed to meet with writers Muhib and Shulamit Tillayeva.

Shortly before my mother’s death, I asked her to remember the words of a song I had grown fond of, ‘Soro,’ and write down the lyrics for me. I was pleasantly surprised when, one day, visiting my mother, I saw in her hands a sheet of paper with the song’s lyrics. ‘Here, darling, I remembered,’ she said. I hugged her and said, ‘Thank you, my beloved, dear, attentive, and loving mom.’ To which my mother replied, ‘Why are you thanking me? I should thank you for extending my life by bringing me to Israel.’ And a few days later, she passed away…

Rivka-Bahmal passed away on May 3, 1998, in Israel. May her memory be a blessing.”

Photo: Shmuel Mavashev with his daughter’s family. Mikhail and Frida Namatiyev with their children and grandchildren.