Do you see how my Arabic is mixed with French? Because that’s how we used to speak. A mixture with French, and a mixture with Hebrew. I mean, a Lebanese person would know you were Lebanese - see how in the same sentence he would speak another language.

Firstly, there’s a difference between my language and the language of the Christians, for example. This language, the one I speak, was the language of the Jews. I, for example, say “ana bidd-i aġūḥ”, and the Christian says “badd-e rūḥ”. He understands me, and I understand him. But there was a bit of a difference between us. 

We spoke a language that…there were many Jews who came from Syria, for example. There were many Jews who came from Iraq. There were many Jews who came from Egypt. And all of them came to Lebanon. As you know, before the (19)48 war, there were about 70,000-80,000 - some say 10,000 - Jews in Beirut. After the war, the community grew a lot and many Jews came from all over the world. Even Ashkenazim came to Beirut. Some were on their way to Israel and stayed in Beirut. (There were) those who fled Syria and stayed in Beirut. (There were) those who came from Greece and stayed in Lebanon. There were many. But the language…changed. Because one person would say (a word) like this, one person would say (a word) like this, and one spoke like this. The language changed a bit. But later, we stopped talking like the Christians or like the Muslims. But not very far from them. I mean, if I want, I can talk like a Lebanese person in their dialect. 

Look, my Arabic when I was in Beirut at that time, most Jews were in Beirut. I mean, there were very few people in Sayda. Firstly, we did not have much contact with them. When we would go to visit Abu Saydun, which is Zvulun, in Sayda, we saw and we spoke like normal. Or when…they would go to Sijud. Sijud was the tomb of…I have forgotten his name…Ohaliav Ben Ahi Samakh, who was with Bezalel Ben Uri Ben Hur. His tomb was there. When they would visit it on Lag Ba’omer and they’d light a bonfire there, and they would leave for the Land of Israel. There were buses, buses, buses and they would go to Sijud on Lag Ba’omer .

We would pass by Sayda on the way, and sometimes we would see the Sayda people, and sometimes the Sayda Jews would go with us to Sijud. But there wasn’t a big difference in dialect. Their language was more “Lebanese”. A bit. Not a lot, but their dialect was a bit more Lebanese than the Jews of Beirut, because the Beirut Jews were very mixed. 

But in Wadi Abu Jmil itself, for example, we would know that this person speaks Syrian, or that person speaks the Lebanese neighbourhood dialect. The Syrians, Aleppines, would say “šlōn-ak?”. None of us would say “šlōn-ak?”. (We would say) “kīf ḥāl-ak?”. Most would say “comment ça va?”. You know. This person is Ashkenazi. This person is French. And that one is of Greek origin. Greek is Greece. Greek. That one is of Greek origin. There were (some like this) and there were (some like that), (people) would speak. 

This one is a Spanish synagogue. And this one is the Aleppine synagogue. And this one is the Damascene synagogue. Every…community had its own synagogue. Even the synagogue of the Ashkenazim was in Beirut.

But they would laugh at each other. […] would laugh at the Ashkenazim a lot. Once, someone from - I don’t know, an ambassador - came to visit the Great Synagogue. Opposite the Great Synagogue was the Ashkenazi synagogue. It was in a school, in a classroom. There was the Talmud Torah school, opposite the Great Synagogue, Magen Avraham. He went into the Ashkenazi synagogue. He saw everyone there saying the prayer differently. He came to the Great Synagogue afterwards and saw everyone sitting, doing the prayer in an organised way. He said “ah, now I’ve arrived at a place of values. Over there, it was…(something else)”. People would joke about each other.

When I came to Israel, every Friday I would buy the Al-Anba newspaper. It was a newspaper in Arabic released in Israel. I used to buy it. I bought Maariv and the Al Anba newspaper. I would read in Hebrew and in Arabic. And even…we had French newspapers at home. There wasn’t a problem.

Later in the army, and after the army, I studied Arabic. And from that time, with my mother and…I spoke Arabic, and I spoke Hebrew, and I spoke…we spoke a mixture, as if we were in Lebanon.

Everyone spoke Arabic. I have a brother who came here when he was two years old. His Arabic is almost like my Arabic. At home…no, a mixture. Mostly Arabic, but there was also French. A mixture. Merci ktir. (The word) “mixture”…was (used for) nuts. Pistachios, and almonds, they would call it a mixture, when they would all be together.

There was the Hetzi Qulmus (half pen) writing style. They would use it in rabbinical courts. They used it a lot in our community. The rabbis would only write in Hetzi Qulmus. They wouldn’t write in regular Hebrew. Half pen. It was known as “half pen”.

I had a friend, one or two years older than me. He used to read a newspaper. Elie Zeitoune. Yaron Harel. Yaron Harel when he wanted some person to read Hetzi Qulmus […].

The Lebanese, we generally don’t say qaaf. We are able to say “qaal”. This is “qaal”. We can. We, the Lebanese, say “aal”. We…but when we were in the synagogue. we would say “be’qori ˁaneni elokey ṣidqi”. But outside of the synagogue, we would not say (it). We would say “aal”. When we read Arabic, “w qaal eš-šāˁer”, we would say “qaal”. But we don’t use it much. There is “aal”, which was (said by) the majority who lived in the city. “Qaal” (was said by) the rural people. And “gaal” was (said by) the Bedouins.