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Durban July triumph for Cape Town owner with historic 1st–2nd finish

For Cape Town’s Jonathan Bloch, this year’s Hollywoodbets Durban July will be remembered as the day a lifelong passion for horse racing delivered the sport’s ultimate reward.

Jonathan celebrated a remarkable one–two finish in South Africa’s premier horse race when Note To Self stormed to victory ahead of stablemate Wish List at a packed Hollywoodbets Greyville racecourse. Even more remarkable is that the pre-race favourite, Star Major, was withdrawn just a few days prior to the race happening. Guess who its owner is. Yes, this leading contender is a horse that’s part-owned by Jonathan Bloch, too!

The Justin Snaith-trained Note To Self, ridden by Richard Fourie, held off the gallant Wish List by just a quarter of a length to claim the winner’s purse of R5.75 million, with the runner-up earning R1.5 million.

Jonathan shares ownership of both horses alongside Nancy Hossack, while Jonathan Snaith is also a part-owner of Note To Self. Winning the 1st and 2nd places is a rare occurrence for owners, so this Durban July certainly marks a significant moment for the Hossack-Bloch partnership.

The victory marked several milestones. It was Varsfontein Stud’s first Durban July winner as breeders, while Snaith and Fourie became the first trainer–jockey partnership to win the race together four times.

For Jonathan, however, the achievement was about far more than trophies and prize money.

A horse-lover from his youth, when he learned how to ride a horse in Hout Bay, Jonathan has been a racehorse owner since 1990, introduced to the sport post university when he embarked upon his chosen career in stockbroking (now wealth management) by his wonderful mentors and supporters, Abe Swersky, Arnold Galombik, Graham Beck and Laurie Jaffe. He stepped away from the sport for almost two decades before returning after the Covid-19 pandemic and, since then, his stable has enjoyed extraordinary success, but he insists the greatest reward is sharing the journey with others.

“I’m having fun with great people,” he says. “Every year I try and bring three or four new owners into the game. I always joke, “I can promise them two things: (1) They’ll meet interesting people and have loads of fun, and (2) Financially, we will go down the loo together.”

Jonathan is known for racing almost exclusively in partnerships and believes the friendships formed are as important as the results on the track. “The horse always comes first,” he says. “Everything is about the horse.” It’s this sentiment that leaves him comfortable about Star Major being withdrawn from the premier Hollywoodbets Durban July race when the horse exhibited a raised temperature.

The Durban July victory capped an extraordinary season for Jonathan, who had already celebrated major Grade 1 and Grade 2 victories with Note To Self, Wish List and Star Major. But seeing his two horses cross the finish line first and second in Africa’s greatest horse race was the fulfilment of a dream more than three decades in the making.

Keeping it in the family?

Jonathan’s son Zachary (Zac) appears to have picked up his father’s passion for horses. Having learned a great deal from Jonathan, Zac established the Yuppie Syndicate to attract more young people to become involved in owning horses.

Zac was with Jonathan when his two horses took their leading places at the Durban July.

Another horse-racing triumph for some of Cape Town’s Jewish residents on the day of the Durban July came for David and Garth Musikanth, part-owners of AHEAD OF THE FACTS, which won the longer-distance Durban G3 Gold vase. This race is one run over a marathon distance of 3 000 meters, making it one of the premier endurance events on the South African racing calendar.

Garth and I are over the moon with our boy AHEAD OF THE FACTS,” David comments. “He is giving us great fun and super memories. And it’s always fun winning together as brothers!“

The Catalogue that became a Book

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BY MARC HOBERMAN

About a year ago, Gavin Morris invited me for one of our favourite coffee catch up rituals at Café Riteve. He had invited me for this specific 2 x coffee to ask if I’d consider being involved as publisher for a milestone exhibition catalogue – to accompany Wolf Kibel Lippy Lipshitz: Palm Studios. Adorably, the brief was 28 pages and a few short essays. However, alas, upon ‘introducing’ me to Wolf and Lippy, my brain did that thing it does where it sprints off without asking permission. Catalogue? No chance. These two deserved a proper book. More than a proper book. A beautiful, tactile, unapologetically substantial book. The sort of book you don’t read once and put away, but keep returning to. They deserved that. By the time my soliloquy ended, our flat whites were rather flat.

Poor Gavin Morris. Cape Town’s beloved mensch and Respected Director of the South African Jewish Museum. He had unwittingly unleashed a HOBERMAN storm of ambition. But, despite the cold coffees and the need for extra funding, he let me lovingly know it was indeed wittingly.

What followed became less an act of publishing than one of custodianship. I spent hundreds of hours with diaries, journals, sketchbooks, letters, photographs and experimental studies, particularly the seven volumes of Lippy’s works on paper donated to UCT. Messy, layered and alive, they became a roadmap to how he thought and saw.

I felt I had to understand the men before I could properly present their art. There is something terrifying about holding the legacy of people who can no longer speak for themselves. One day, every artist’s story rests in the hands of a stranger. Throughout the project, I tried to ‘consult’ Wolf and Lippy: Would this choice honour you? Does it help the reader see what you were trying to show us?

Then something strange happened. The more time I spent with them, the more familiar they became. During the project, my aunt Cecile Elstein – my father Gerald Hoberman’s only sibling – passed away. Cecile grew up in Oranjezicht before becoming a celebrated sculptor and printmaker in Britain. Reading her Guardian obituary, I stopped at the words: “She had studied sculpture with Lippy Lipshitz.” Her daughter confirmed that Cecile had been something of his protégée.

Suddenly I understood what I had been recognising. As a child in Cecile’s Manchester studio, I was fascinated by the drawings, notes and experiments surrounding her sculpture. With Lippy, I felt the same frustration: the sculpture was magnificent, but only the tip of an immense creative iceberg.

Then Phillippa Duncan asked whether I knew an ‘I. Hoberman’, named among Lippy’s early portrait sitters. I certainly did: Izzy Hoberman was my grandfather’s brother. Decades later, a Hoberman had returned – this time as publisher and custodian. It felt wonderfully circular.

Meanwhile, the short essays grew into theses. Jay van den Berg’s years of tireless retrieval gave the book its heart and historical backbone. Hayden Proud and Anna Tietze brought formidable scholarship; Ayala Nir brought family memory; and Phillippa supplied rigorous research, exceptional brainpower and carefully timed cat memes that gave us just enough paws (slichah) during our post-midnight working. Mel Fick visually translated the conversations inside my head into pages that worked. Behind everything stood Gavin, whose faith, guidance and willingness to accommodate our impossible ambitions made the book possible.

Everyone gave more than the brief required. Time did not respond by becoming more generous. Birthdays were missed, weekends disappeared and, after months of working past midnight, seven days a week, we eventually had to reintroduce ourselves to society.

We had chosen catalogue over life.

We took no shortcuts. Nothing was templated; every page was individually composed. I developed a world-first remastering process so the artworks would not be sanitised for print. Torn paper remained torn. Bent corners remained bent. Cracked paint, rough timber, old nails and handwritten masking tape were preserved because these are not imperfections to erase. They are evidence. Another reader may find meaning in a detail I failed to notice.

The modest catalogue became a hefty, oversized book requiring two hands and a respectable amount of table space. At R1 600, it was unlike anything the museum had sold before – and became the first catalogue in its history to sell out.

That felt less like a commercial triumph than the most honest response we could have received: people had noticed. Humans can spot something created with heart. As is the case with our beloved Wolf and Lippy.

The people behind PALM STUDIOS: The Book

Gavin Morris – Director of the South African Jewish Museum and convenor of the Palm Studios exhibition.

Jay van den Berg – Associate Curator at the South African Jewish Museum; curator of the exhibition and Editorial Director of the book.

Hayden Proud – Art historian and curator at the Iziko South African National Gallery.

Anna Tietze – Cultural and art historian; Honorary Research Associate at UCT’s Michaelis School of Fine Art and a research associate of the Iziko South African National Gallery.

Ayala Nir – Granddaughter of Lippy Lipshitz

Phillippa Duncan – Independent art researcher, art adviser and collection manager; Collectors Liaison and author of two essays in the book.

Mellany ‘Mel’ Fick – Designer and former HOBERMAN Art Director, responsible for the book’s design and layout.

 Celebrating the women of Habonim Dror Southern Africa

From left to right: Abigail Smith, Gabi Altamirano, Leah Benjamin, Mila Nathan

This Women’s Month, Habonim Dror Southern Africa is proud to celebrate the incredible women who make our movement stronger every day. Through four inspiring individuals, we showcase the journey of women across every stage of Habonim. Together, they reflect the leadership, dedication and spirit that define Habonim Dror Southern Africa.

Former chaver and now a parent: Abigail Smith

Habonim was part of my story long before I was born, and some of my earliest memories growing up in Habonim were that we were encouraged to think deeply, question respectfully, and care for one another and the world around us. It gave me an unshakable pride in my Jewish identity and the confidence to ask difficult questions, challenge ideas, and find my own voice. The movement’s deeply egalitarian culture taught me from an early age that leadership, responsibility, and opportunity were never defined by gender, shaping my belief that I could do anything my male peers could do. Those lessons became the foundation of how I lead, work, parent, and build community today. Above all, Habonim taught me to meet every person with dignity, compassion, and humanity – a gift that has shaped every part of my life.

Long-standing Habonim supporter: Gabi Altamirano

Habonim Dror didn’t just prepare me for the real world – it made me believe I belonged in it. Long before I had a career, I was trusted to lead, make difficult decisions, organise large-scale projects, and use my voice with confidence and respect. It taught me resilience, critical thinking, and that leadership isn’t about having all the answers, but having the courage to step forward. Every young woman deserves a space that believes in her before she has to prove herself. Habonim was that space for me.

Current madricha and leader: Leah Benjamin

Just weeks ago, I served as one of the roshim of Habonim Dror’s winter camp, an experience that taught me resilience and confidence, and showed me the power I have, as a woman in leadership, to shape future generations. Habonim is a uniquely pluralistic space, and over the years it has taught me that compassion and love are just as important as strength and intelligence. This is the kind of leader I hope to be, and a small part of the legacy I hope to leave for the girls who will one day stand where I stand.

Current chanicha: Mila Nathan

Within a fiercely supportive community, I not only discovered my voice but also myself. This year at Winter Camp, I was the only girl in my age group. Rather than being discouraged, it made me step up as a leader, unlocking one of my greatest qualities. Now, I step into the real world ready to occupy spaces where women are missing and pull others up with me.

An unexpected homecoming: a Kaufhaus Galliner ashtray returns after 92 years

By JEANINE HACK

In 1909 my great-grandparents, Emil and Martha Galliner, opened Kaufhaus Galliner, a department store in Finsterwalde, Germany. Twenty-five years later, in 1934, they marked the milestone by presenting commemorative ashtrays to valued customers.

No one could have imagined that one of those small glass ashtrays would survive the Nazi era and, 92 years later, find its way back into the hands of their descendants in Cape Town.

In November 2025, I received an unexpected email from Babette Weber, head of the Museum Association in Doberlug-Kirchhain, Germany. She wrote that additional Stolpersteine (‘stumbling stones’) had been laid in nearby Finsterwalde, commemorating victims of Nazi persecution. Among those honoured were Leo Henesch, who survived Kristallnacht and eventually escaped to the United States; Max Schmidt, who was executed for telling a political joke; and Paul Liehr, who died in a concentration camp after being imprisoned for his Communist beliefs and for secretly listening to Radio Moscow.

At the Stolpersteine ceremony, a descendant of Paul Liehr, Ina Liehr from Hamburg, asked whether anyone was in contact with descendants of the Galliner family. She had inherited what she believed was an advertising ashtray from Kaufhaus Galliner and felt it belonged with the Galliner family.

When Babette contacted me with the news, I was astonished. Because South Africa’s postal service is unreliable, Ina kindly agreed to send the parcel to my daughter in France. During a recent visit, I brought the ashtray safely home to Cape Town.

The ashtray had taken a very different route from my great-grandparents’ own extraordinary journey, but at last it had reached its rightful home.

Ina later explained how it had come into her family’s possession. Her parents had lived in a house in Finsterwalde that had belonged to the family for two generations. When the house was eventually sold, the ashtray was one of the very few possessions she chose to keep and took with her to Hamburg.

Only after attending the Stolpersteine ceremony for her great-grandfather did she learn the story of Emil and Martha Galliner and the persecution that forced them to flee Germany. Returning home, she looked at the ashtray with new eyes and realised it was not simply an old souvenir, but an important family memory that should be returned.

Inside the parcel was the commemorative ashtray together with a beautifully handwritten postcard in German that moved me deeply. It read:

“Good day Mrs Hack. Here is the small ashtray in your hands. I am delighted to deliver it to you. My parents lived in a house in Finsterwalde that had belonged to our family for two generations, and somehow this ashtray remained there, probably because Kaufhaus Galliner had once been such an important business in the town. When the house was sold, I took the ashtray to Hamburg. It was one of the very few things I kept. At the Stolpersteine ceremony in honour of my great-grandfather, I heard the story of your great-grandparents. Once back in Hamburg, I saw the ashtray through new eyes. It gives me great pleasure to return this item of memory to your family. With kind regards, Ina Liehr.”

Her postcard resonated particularly strongly with me because my book, Epitaph Of No Words / Epitaph Ohne Worte, is itself built around postcards. They tell the remarkable story of Emil and Martha Galliner’s 19-year odyssey as displaced persons after Kristallnacht.

On 10 June 1941 they escaped Nazi Germany by train to Moscow, travelled across the Soviet Union on the Trans-Siberian Railway, continued through Manchuria to Dalian – a city in China – and crossed the China Sea to Shanghai, spending the war years in the Shanghai Ghetto. In 1947, they were evacuated by the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC) to the United States aboard the troop transport SS Marine Adder. After struggling to establish themselves in Chicago, they eventually travelled via Britain to South West Africa (now Namibia), where they were reunited with children and grandchildren they had not seen for sixteen years. Their long journey finally ended in Johannesburg.

The little ashtray made a different journey, but one that was no less remarkable.

For nine decades it survived in the home of a family whose own ancestors had suffered Nazi persecution. It remained quietly preserved until a chance encounter at a Stolpersteine ceremony connected two families whose histories had intersected in Finsterwalde almost a century earlier.

Sometimes history returns not through official archives or museums, but through the kindness of strangers.

Holding the ashtray in my hands, I realised that it had survived where so much else had been lost. This small commemorative ashtray is now far more than a piece of advertising.  For more than nine decades it had quietly endured, passing from one family to another until history, memory and human kindness combined to bring it home. It is no longer simply a commemorative gift from a department store. It is a tangible link to a lost family business, to lives interrupted, to families connected across generations, to a vanished Jewish community, and to the enduring generosity of people who believe that memory should find its way home.  

Crafting a Cannes winner the human way

By EDITOR

In an era when artificial intelligence is rapidly transforming the creative industries, one of advertising’s most prestigious awards has gone to a commercial that achieved its remarkable visual effects the old-fashioned way – through human ingenuity, craftsmanship and meticulous filmmaking.

For Cape Town’s Bev Wynne, founder and Executive Producer of Gatehouse Commercials, being part of the team behind the Cannes Lions Grand Prix-winning Your Way Out for Coinbase represents the pinnacle of a 40-year career.

The commercial won top honours: the Grand Prix for Film Craft at this year’s Cannes Lions International Festival of Creativity. It’s also received a Primetime Emmy nomination, a rare achievement for an advertisement.

“Cannes Lions is the biggest stage in our industry globally,” says Bev. “It’s where the best advertising work from every country is judged against each other. Winning a Grand Prix, which is awarded to only one entry in each category, is genuinely considered a career high point.

“Our film won the Grand Prix for Film Craft, which is particularly meaningful because that category judges the actual filmmaking – direction, camera work and execution – rather than just the concept.”

Gatehouse Commercials, which celebrates its 25th anniversary this year, provided the production services that enabled the ambitious international shoot in Southern Africa.

“My role is as a service producer: I’m not developing the creative idea itself, but making it physically and financially possible to shoot here,” she explains. “Most of the work I do is facilitating productions that come in from overseas and turning their vision into a shoot that actually happens on the ground.”

That means overseeing budgets and schedules, sourcing local crew, arranging locations and permits, co-ordinating casting, and solving countless logistical challenges on set.

What distinguished Your Way Out from many other productions in today’s environment was its commitment to practical filmmaking.

At first glance, the commercial appears to have been created almost entirely using computer-generated imagery. It resembles a pixelated retro video game. In reality, however, almost everything viewers see was physically built and filmed.

“The agency gave us a strong no-AI mandate from the outset,” says Bev. “Even though the finished film looks like a pixelated video game, none of that was done digitally afterwards. It was all built and shot for real.”

Bringing that vision to life required remarkable planning and craftsmanship, including constructing two 80-metre sets, building and shooting miniatures, and filming on location in Cape Town – all physically crafted to create that video-game aesthetic in camera, rather than adding it afterwards.

The result is a film that demonstrates how practical effects can still surprise audiences in an age increasingly dominated by digital technology.

“It’s an enormous logistical and technical undertaking to pull off practically what most people would assume is done on a computer,” Bev says. “I think that’s exactly why it stood out to the Cannes jury in the Film Craft category, which rewards that kind of filmmaking craft and ingenuity.”

For Bev, the award is also recognition of South Africa’s world-class film industry and the highly skilled technicians and craftspeople who have helped establish Cape Town as a leading international production destination. “The crew base here has grown up alongside decades of international productions, so you’ve got camera, grip, lighting and production crews who work to the same standard as anywhere in London or Los Angeles,” Bev comments.

“Cape Town has become one of the most sought-after production hubs in the world for international advertising,” she says. “The light and landscape diversity is extraordinary. Close by you’ve got ocean, mountains, desert-like terrain and city, so a director can get several completely different looks without leaving the region.”

Bev’s own career began more than 40 years ago when she answered a newspaper advertisement for a ‘Girl Friday’ at a production company. After starting in feature films, she found her niche in commercial advertising, where shorter production cycles offered a better balance while still delivering the creative challenges she loved.

Looking back on Your Way Out, she is immensely proud of the achievement.

“I’m incredibly proud of what everyone accomplished,” she says. “This project proved that, even in an age where AI is transforming the industry, extraordinary results can still come from people building, crafting and solving problems together. That’s something worth celebrating.”

At a time when so much creative work is being generated digitally, Your Way Out stood apart by demonstrating that human imagination, technical skill and collaboration remain capable of producing work that not only captivates audiences but also earns the advertising industry’s highest honours.  

Watch the award-winning advert by clicking here.

And, to see how the advert was made, click here.

Valerie Mizrahi: A life in Science 

By KAREN MILLER

Valerie (Val) Mizrahi is busier than ever, even though she was required by university regulations to retire at 65.

She is now Professor Emerita at UCT; a Senior Scholar at the Institute of Infectious Diseases and Molecular Medicine, the major postgraduate research institute she once led at UCT; and remains deeply involved in research development, both here and internationally.

Her latest honour is election as an international member of the United States National Academy of Sciences, one of the world’s most prestigious scientific institutions. It joins election as a Fellow of the Royal Society of the UK in 2023 and membership of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences in 2025. They are remarkable distinctions, although one suspects Val Mizrahi herself is more interested in the next scientific question than the last honour.

Science is her driving force: she was the chemistry student inspired by an exceptional teacher who developed into the chemist who has spent more than three decades pursuing tuberculosis (TB), and the internationally acclaimed researcher flying around the world building scientific networks.

For more than thirty years tuberculosis has been the great scientific question of her life. In South Africa, where TB remains one of our leading causes of death, her research has helped transform our understanding of the bacterium that causes this disease and contributed to the development of new approaches to treatment. She has been instrumental in advancing our understanding of drug-resistant tuberculosis, one of the most pressing public health challenges of our time.

After working in the United States, Val returned to South Africa in 1989, excited by the groundbreaking work being done in HIV/AIDS and infectious diseases and by the opportunities opening up in tuberculosis research. Given the freedom to follow her scientific curiosity, she worked at the SA Institute of Medical Research and built a world-class TB research programme at Wits University and the National Health Laboratory Service before moving to UCT in 2011 to lead the Institute of Infectious Diseases and Molecular Medicine. 

Science, for Val Mizrahi, has never been a solitary pursuit. It is about individual curiosity, certainly, but it is equally about collaboration. She speaks often of “social capital”, the networks of relationships that make good science possible. Scientific excellence, she believes, depends upon bringing talented people together, building capacity and creating opportunities for younger scientists to flourish.

Colleagues at Wits affectionately gave her the nickname, ’the Rottweiler’. This perfectly captures both her determination and her refusal to let go of scientific problems. She cheerfully admits to being hyper-competitive and that she cannot switch off completely from her work. Retirement, therefore, was probably doomed from the outset.

She proudly proclaims that her background is “100% Sephardi”. Three of her grandparents came from the island of Rhodes and one from Izmir in Turkey. Economic circumstances brought them to Rhodesia in the 1920s to begin their lives again, while other members of the family who remained behind were murdered in Auschwitz in 1944. Her admiration of their courage and tenacity to persevere against the odds is behind her own drive to face the insurmountable health issues that South Africa faces. 

She grew up with the privilege of knowing all four grandparents, listening to them speaking Ladino, and having remarkable parents, who taught her the importance of family and community. Today there is a heartfelt regret that she didn’t ask more questions about her family’s history and lived experiences. “I wish I had found out more,” she says. Curiosity, she reflects, has shaped both her personal and scientific life.

She speaks warmly of the mentors who have guided her, particularly Professors Solly Benatar and Siamon Gordon. Her greatest mentor, however, is her mother, whose own battle with tuberculosis proved a defining moment for the family. It is therefore no surprise that mentorship occupies such an important place in Val’s own life. Helping younger scientists build the networks and collaborations that will sustain their careers matters deeply to her. 

She is also a passionate advocate for women in science. Although she describes herself as “an aberration in my time”, she never saw herself primarily as a woman scientist, simply as a scientist. Family, she insists, comes first. When her two daughters were young, she left work early in the afternoons to be with them and has enabled younger women in her group to do likewise.

Although she is not a medical doctor and does not treat patients herself, her work extends far beyond the laboratory. She mentors young scientists, and promotes organisations such as the Khayelitsha-based Eh!woza, which brings together biomedical researchers and young people from communities affected by HIV and tuberculosis. “The bacterium does not carry a passport,” she says. Science and health, for her, transcend borders and ideology.

She reads “voraciously”, treasures quiet time alone and walks to recharge. She draws inspiration from Rabbi Jonathan Sacks: “There is a difference between optimism and hope. Optimism is the belief that things will get better. Hope is the belief that if we work hard enough together we can make things better.” It is difficult to imagine a motivation more perfectly aligned with both her science and her worldview. 

Asked what legacy she hopes to leave, Val Mizrahi’s answer is immediate. It is “not science but people”. For someone newly elected to one of the world’s most distinguished scientific academies, that may be the most revealing answer of all.  

Building a Maccabiah legacy

For Jacqui Boyd, representing South Africa at the Maccabiah Games has become a lifelong journey spanning more than three decades. This year, at the event held after its postponement in 2025, she once again demonstrated why she is one of South African Jewish sport’s most accomplished tennis players, adding two more gold medals to an extraordinary collection.

Jacqui claimed the Women’s Masters Singles title for the third consecutive Games, having previously won the event in 2017 and 2022. She also successfully defended her Mixed Doubles crown alongside her Argentinian partner, a title they first won together in 2022. Remarkably, it was her fifth consecutive Mixed Doubles gold medal, following victories in 2005, 2013, 2017, 2022 and now 2026. She did not compete at the 2009 Games.

The latest triumphs bring her overall Maccabiah tally to an impressive 11 medals – nine gold and two bronze.

Reflecting on the achievement, Jacqui says it is difficult to believe how far the journey has taken her.

“This was my sixth Maccabiah. I first competed in 1993 as a 14-year-old and was the youngest member of the South African delegation that year. To still be competing and winning more than 30 years later is incredibly special.”

She faced a familiar opponent in the Women’s Masters Singles final, defeating the same Russian-Israeli player she overcame to win the title in 2022.

Jacqui previously represented South Africa in the Open category before moving into the Masters division from 2017 onwards.

Tennis has long held a special place in South Africa’s Maccabiah history. It remains the only sport in which South Africa has competed at every Maccabiah Games since 1935 and has delivered more medals for the country than any other sporting code.

This year’s Games carried particular emotional significance. Postponed from last year until 2026, they became the largest gathering of Jewish athletes in Israel since October 7, 2023, under the theme, More Than Ever.

“These Games were even more meaningful because of everything that Israel and Jewish communities around the world have been through,” says Jacqui. “It was amazing how many of the Israelis we competed against thanked us simply for coming and being part of the Games.”

She says the experience extended far beyond the tennis court.

“Israel really put on an incredible Maccabiah. I’m so grateful to have been there, competing as a proud Jew and a proud South African.”

The teacup moment 

By SIMONE SULCAS 

An objectively minor incident occurred in the first week following my admission as an attorney.  Subjectively, it was profound. I was brimming with the enthusiasm of a young green lawyer – low on experience, but high on passion for the law. The meeting room was brimming with advocates, attorneys and a couple of unhappy looking clients. My quick scan of the room underscored two things: first, that I was the only woman in the room; and second, that I had noticed it. The consultation progressed slowly, with the clients’ frustration growing in direct proportion to the billable hours being clocked.  Relief arrived on a tray: teacups, biscuits, and the sudden expectation that I would serve them. Almost in unison, every face in the room turned to me. After a few awkward seconds, senior counsel ‘rescued’ me by jovially taking charge of the teacups.  I replayed the moment afterwards, wondering why I had not stood up for myself, and frustrated that the incident had been enough to silence me when I had a good strategic point to make. 

A few days later, by chance, I bumped into my ‘rescuer’ at court. We discussed the case, and I took the opportunity to make the point I had not raised during the consultation. He said it was important and would add it to the papers. Then he asked whether I had failed to raise it at the time because I had felt disempowered by being cast, however silently, into the stereotype of a woman expected to serve rather than speak. I sheepishly nodded. He looked at me and said, “Next time, remember that your seat at the table is not ornamental. You earned it as well. Use it.”  

On the 9th of this month, we celebrate Women’s Day. I always pause on this day to remember that room, that table, and the moment I allowed a stereotype to quieten me. It took time to realise that I was not bound by the role others had silently assigned to me. I could define for myself the kind of woman I chose to be: one who speaks, contributes, leads, and models that courage for the young men she raised. Because, ultimately, equality is not about being offered a seat at the table. It is about using it. And as representative of the Cape South African Jewish Board of Deputies, I am trying to use mine in service of our community: to advocate with courage, to confront Jew-hate, and to support a community that is strong, proud and connected. 

Are Jews terrible at world domination? 

Daniel Bloch

By DANIEL BLOCH 

For as long as any of us can remember, Jews have been accused of dominating the world. We supposedly control the banks, the media, the weather and now, even sport. These days it is no longer just “the Jews” supposedly pulling the strings – it is Israelis and Zionists too. 

If any of that were true, then we are clearly terrible at world domination and should seriously start re-evaluating our life choices. 

During the FIFA World Cup, Argentina came from 2–0 down to beat Egypt in a controversial match. As is often the case in football, many supporters blamed the referee for their team’s defeat. That, in itself, is hardly unusual. Egypt had just lost to the reigning world champions, led by one of the greatest footballers ever to play the game, Lionel Messi. Perhaps Argentina were simply the better side when it mattered most? 

But the blame did not stop with the referee. Israel, Jews and Zionists were also dragged into the conspiracy. Social media posts and media reports claimed that Israel had somehow influenced the outcome. Egyptian commentator Mohammed Nour even remarked: “We played like heroes, but Israel – meaning FIFA and the referees -had something to say about it, and we couldn’t overcome these circumstances.” 

If Jews really controlled the World Cup, surely we would at least have managed to get Israel into the tournament. Israel did not even qualify. In fact, reports suggested that United States goalkeeper Matt Turner was the only known Jewish player at the 2026 FIFA World Cup, with perhaps only a handful of other players having some Jewish ancestry. If Jews control world football, why couldn’t we get more Jewish players onto the pitch? We could at least have arranged for a brisket stand inside the stadium serving hot beef on rye. 

The conspiracy theories do not end with football. 

A few years ago, a United States senator suggested that Jews control the weather. If that were true, why do so many Cape Town Jews escape the city’s cold, wet winters for warmer destinations such as Greece, Europe or Plettenberg Bay? 

Then there is the claim that Jews control the banks and are all fabulously wealthy. If only. Apparently, every Jew is supposed to own a mansion, a holiday home, a yacht in Monaco, and perhaps even a sports franchise. Meanwhile, I cannot afford Springbok rugby tickets, let alone buy a professional sports team. My bank account certainly contains plenty of zeros – they just all happen to be on the right-hand side of the decimal point. 

Humour aside, these conspiracy theories have serious consequences. 

Many of the individuals and organisations who claim to champion justice and human rights are often the very same people who casually blame Jews, Zionists and Israelis for problems entirely unrelated to them. Even here in South Africa some sought to blame Israel and Zionists for recent outbreaks of xenophobic violence. 

These accusations are not political criticism. They recycle classic antisemitic tropes that have existed for centuries, simply replacing old language with new labels. Increasingly, even the word ‘Zionist’ is no longer enough – the word ‘Jew’ is once again being used openly. 

That should concern everyone. 

The Cape South African Jewish Board of Deputies will continue calling out antisemitism wherever it appears and will continue challenging it both online and in the courts. 

Last year we secured the first of several successful hate speech cases. In August, another respondent will appear before the Equality Court, and we expect further matters to follow. We have already served papers on two additional individuals and are in the process of serving others. 

We will not stand by while members of our community are targeted because they are Jewish. Protecting the rights and dignity of Jews in the Western Cape remains at the heart of our mandate. 

No, we certainly do not dominate the world. 

But over the coming months, we do intend to spend a fair amount of time dominating the courtroom. 

A mother’s love, a son’s enduring legacy

There were few dry eyes in the room as former Capetonian Martine Ben Harush (née Gordon) shared the story at a recent Nechama breakfast event of losing her 20-year-old son, Shoam. With remarkable honesty and courage, she spoke not only about unimaginable grief, but also about the enduring love, kindness and humanity that continue to define her son’s legacy.

Shoam, the second youngest of Martine and her husband’s six children, was critically injured during the October 7 attacks and died three weeks later.

“When you lose a child, your sense of time changes,” Martine told the audience. “My life changed 968 days ago, when we finally had to say goodbye to Shoam.”

Although nearly two years have passed, the pain remains ever present.

“Grief of this magnitude is paralysing,” she said. “I can’t just shake it off and pretend that everything is okay.”

Throughout her talk, Martine spoke candidly about the loneliness that often accompanies bereavement. Many adults, she explained, simply do not know what to say and, as a result, avoid the conversation altogether. Yet it has been human connection – particularly through the children she teaches – that has helped her find the strength to keep moving forward.

A high school English teacher who treasures the school environment, Martine said she has found it easiest to speak about Shoam with her students.

“Children are just more honest and real,” she reflected. Their compassion, willingness to listen and genuine concern have brought her immense comfort during the darkest period of her life.

Amid the heartbreak, there have also been moments that have deepened her understanding of the son she lost.

“I learned things about Shoam after his death that I didn’t know beforehand,” she said.

Among those discoveries was a letter Shoam had written before the outbreak of the war, which she read only after his passing. In it, he expressed a profound appreciation for life and gratitude for all that the world had given him.

During the family’s shiva, friends and acquaintances shared stories of Shoam’s quiet acts of kindness and his sensitivity towards people who were struggling – qualities that continued to emerge long after his death.

One story that particularly moved Martine concerned a young boy with special needs who now visits Shoam’s grave every Friday. The boy had first met Shoam when Shoam visited the boy’s family because his brother had served alongside him before October 7. Shoam had formed a special bond with the boy, engaging with him in a way few others could.

Perhaps the most profound expression of Shoam’s compassion was a wish he had shared before his death – that his organs should be donated if anything ever happened to him. Despite their overwhelming grief, Martine and her husband honoured that request.

“As a result,” Martine told the audience, “five other people are alive because of Shoam.”

As the breakfast drew to a close, those present were left not only with the weight of a mother’s loss, but also with the extraordinary legacy of a young man whose generosity continues to touch lives. In sharing her family’s story, Martine reminded everyone present that, while grief may never disappear, love, kindness and human connection have the power to endure long after a life has ended.

More about Nechama

Established over 30 years ago, Nechama provides specific Jewish bereavement and palliative care counselling to the Cape Town Jewish community. In addition to trained psychologists and social workers, the organisation offers support through its 25 volunteer counsellors, all of whom have been trained, selected and supervised by Nechama to serve in this role. Through compassionate one-on-one support, and telephone outreach to newly bereaved families, Nechama helps individuals and families navigate grief and adjust to life after loss. These support services are available to anyone no matter their location, with counselling being done online all over the world.

The organisation also strengthens community wellbeing through mental health workshops, public lectures, counselling skills training, and outreach programmes that extend beyond the Jewish community.

The organisation falls under the leadership of Director Avigail Popack, Psychological Services Co-ordinator Sarit Swisa and Admin Manager Shana Isserow. 

The Nechama website offers numerous valuable resources. Click here to visit the website.

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