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February 28, 2003/Adar1 26 5763, Vol. 55, No. 27
From riches to rags
Couples view economic devastation in Argentina firsthand
LEISAH NAMM
Managing Editor
Standing in the sanctuary of Buenos Aires' Pardes Synagogue are, from left, Jay and Karen Bycer, Rabbi Baruj Plavnick, and Lois and Larry Seaman.
Photo courtesy of Jay and Karen Bycer
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Around midnight, truckloads of people disperse among the streets of Buenos Aires to sort through trash bins for scrap paper, cardboard, cans and salvaged food.
A government-funded stripped-down train - dubbed the "Ghost Train" - transports these cartoneros (Spanish for cardboard collectors) from their community to financially healthier areas to collect food and recyclable material that can be exchanged for money.
Jay and Karen Bycer of Phoenix and Larry and Lois Seaman of Paradise Valley witnessed this evidence of Argentina's economic hardship firsthand while driving back to their hotel one evening during a three-day visit in December.
"The businesses break down the boxes for (the cartoneros) and put it by the curb by the trash knowing they're going to come," Karen Bycer explains. Restaurant patrons don't receive doggy bags for their leftovers - those portions go in the back to be collected later, she adds.
Scenes such as this, along with "graffiti everywhere" and people burning tires in the street, greeted the two couples, along with boarded-up stores of the once-bustling Jewish shopping area of the Once District, which used to be filled with Jewish-owned businesses, kosher butchers and restaurants.
"(The tour guide told us) this used to be so heavily shopped and populated, but now, because of the economic situation, all you see (are) the metal (bars) in front of the stores," Jay Bycer says.
This desolate image is very different from the Buenos Aires Rabbi Moshe Tutnauer remembers from living there with his wife in 1983-1984. "I have memories of a very vibrant and comfortable Argentinian Jewish community," he says. "It was a very active and very prosperous community."
Tutnauer describes the Once District of the early 80s as "thriving" and remembers a six-story building where social and cultural events were held.
"Argentina's economic collapse has placed the country's nearly 200,000 Jews and the Jewish community itself in a state of crisis," states an April 2002 article on the United Jewish Communities Web site (www.ujc.org). "Job losses, currency devaluation and other results of the national economic slide have caused hunger, homelessness and poverty in what was a generally prosperous and economically comfortable community." In addition, the crisis has "torn at the fabric of strong Jewish community infrastructures and institutions."
"The economic situation down there is very, very poor and it's not going to improve," says Jay Bycer. "People who are doctors and lawyers and business owners ... have been totally destroyed. It's not like you're having a bad year. ... They're saying, 'Where do I go to try to have a life now?' "
Through Tutnauer, the Bycers and Seamans contacted Rabbi Baruj Plavnick of Buenos Aires' Pardes Synagogue. After meeting with Plavnick and taking city tours led by synagogue president Elinor Feldmann and tour guide Susana Alter, the couples saw how the area's Jewish community has been affected since the country's December 2001 economic collapse.
"What struck me the most is the security now that identifies every Jewish organization," Bycer says. Preschools, schools and Jewish organizations have 24-hour surveillance by security guards, no parking is allowed in front of any Jewish building and concrete barriers are lined up in front of each entrance. "Every Jewish organization, whether it's a preschool or school, is identified by these security measures," Bycer says. "The government now is basically providing all those services."
"No one is allowed to take a picture of any Jewish building or organization," Karen Bycer adds. "Jay did and the police came running." Their Buenos Aires tour guide intervened - "otherwise, I don't know if he would have taken us in or what," she says.
Plavnick described to them how the congregants "suffered tremendous hardship when they became poor overnight," Larry Seaman says. "A lot of people lost their cars, businesses (and) homes."
People who have no house are walking around in Armani suits, says Jay Bycer, an example of the sudden lifestyle change for many Argentinians. "When they closed the banks, people couldn't get to their money. ... Then they reopened the banks and limited how much money you could take."
Plavnick also described how his congregants strive to retain their dignity by visiting Catholic food kitchens instead of the Jewish ones.
"The Catholic priest calls the rabbi and explains, 'You've got to contact your congregants because they're coming to our soup kitchens and we can't afford to feed our own, let alone your people,' " Seaman says. "They're embarrassed, they lost face and yet they're trying to maintain a brave front so they don't let anyone know."
Pardes Synagogue has about 700 members, but "70 to 80 percent of the congregation can't even pay dues anymore because of the economic situation," Bycer says. "So they've really run out of money down there to just provide services to the community."
After a plea from Tutnauer during Shabbat services at Beth El Congregation in Phoenix, where Tutnauer serves as interim rabbi, $900 was raised for a camp for children at Pardes Synagogue. The funds, donated during the December visit, were made from the Bycers' and Seamans' respective congregations: Beth El and Or Chadash Congregation.
Since leaving Argentina, Tutnauer has kept in contact with Plavnick and the Bycers and Seamans hope to do the same.
"There's no question that if Or Chadash develops a program in the future to raise funds for other organizations, I will unquestionably suggest this congregation in Buenos Aires as a recipient," Seaman says. "They really look to their northern neighbors. I would hope other congregations, as hard-pressed as they all may be, may yet somehow have a thought about (the fact that) there's other people that are much more worse off than they are. We all think we have it bad, but you know what, we don't.
"In comparison, we're all sitting in Fat City."
To make a donation to the Pardes Synagogue, call Tutnauer at Beth El, 602-944-3359.
Contact the writer at leisah_namm@jewishaz.com.
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