Memory, Ritual, and Community

The memories that follow are drawn from oral histories and anecdotes shared by former Vryburgers. Together, they illuminate how communal seders and Passover customs evolved over time, and how ritual, conversation, and generosity sustained Jewish identity amid social and political change.

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Sacred Seasons in Vryburg

Passover and the High Holidays—Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur—marked the height of Jewish communal life in Vryburg. Boarders returned home from school, families reunited, and community bonds were renewed. Communal seders, in particular, endured as a cherished tradition for many years.

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The Great Seder Tables

Kimberley-born author Dan Jacobson recalls these communal seders in Electronic Elephant during a visit to Vryburg and to our mother on the farm. In his telling, my brother Wanye and I are listed as girls, and Simon Lieberthal appears as Alfred Liebenthal—poetic licence at work.

Maurice Joffe remembers that in the late 1950s there were at least two large seders each year, with his family’s table hosting around 40 people. Mike Cohen recalls his mother Leah hosting about 30 guests, while the Lieberthal and Allen families were also well known for their seders.

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Preparing for Pesach

Lorna Toube remembers Leah Lieberthal, matriarch of the Jewish community, preparing boxes of treats that children delivered by bicycle to Jewish families throughout town. Her sister, Helen Kristeller, recalls Pesach at her grandmother’s house with great affection:"My strongest and fondest memory is Pesach time at my Granny’s house. The furniture from the lounge and dining rooms was removed, and loooong tables with white tablecloths were set up, decorated with Pesach plates, dishes, silverware, and more. Sometimes there were as many as 36 people around the table. For ten days before Seder, Granny, Mom, her sister Helen Toube, and Elizabeth—Granny’s maid—stood around the AGA stove making ingberlach, kneidlach, pletzlach, and everything Pesach. I loved it all. Do people even remember what those things are?"

 

Through a Child’s Eyes

Keith Brodovcky recalls attending both first- and second-night seders at the Allens. Mike Allen remembers the experience from a child’s perspective:“Every Pesach we went to the seder at my father’s partner’s flat at the hotel. Those present were usually Mike and Minnie Allen, Mr Chien, Mickey Folb, Mr Edelstein—hotel residents—my parents Max and Rose, Charles Allen, and myself. Charles and I found the wait before eating agonizing; it took all our energy to endure the boredom as the adults worked through the Haggadah. The only highlight was the search for the afikoman and its monetary reward.”

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Lauren Rohloff also reflects warmly on the seder tables, recalling meals shared on the stoep at Auntie Esme’s and the deep sense of love and belonging within the community.

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A Single Communal Seder

By the 1970s and 1980s, the community gathered for a single communal seder, led first by Victor Resman and Harold Sheckter, and later by Harold alone. Widely regarded as the elder statesman of the community, Harold was the most knowledgeable of the parents in Jewish matters. One year, the seder was held at the Jocums’ home outside Vryburg, highlighting their extraordinary commitment to travel into town on both nights.

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Politics at the Pesach Table

These gatherings took place against a backdrop of a shrinking Jewish population, the State of Emergency, and increasingly animated political discussions. Janice Sheckter, in particular, challenged the older generation on apartheid and the status quo. For many, this was their first exposure to broader moral and social questions—linking the Passover story of liberation to contemporary struggle. Janice recalls: “I remember my teens especially—when my humanitarian conscience started finding its voice. This led to many arguments at the communal dinners, which only intensified once I went to Rhodes University to study politics and journalism.”

 

The Gift of Matzah

Another enduring Passover custom was the gifting of matzah to local friends, clients, business partners, and teachers. Steven Sheckter remembers: “Every Pesach we would give people—like the bank manager—a box of matzah.”

In conversation with Gita Franco (née Gertrud Wald), it emerged that this tradition had deep roots. Matzah and other Pesach provisions were ordered from Johannesburg, eagerly awaited by the children, and shared with teachers, who came to recognise the gift as a marker of Pesach.

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In retrospect, this custom was more than courteous—it was a quiet, confident expression of Jewish identity in a small town.

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