To be a person, that's the whole story - the story of Connie (Elkanah) Sebo

In my youth, I often visited his optical shop on HaNaviim Street in Hadar. I remember his special appearance, his aesthetic sense and his excellent taste in fitting glasses. This week, after decades of not seeing him, I was happy to meet him. The renewed meeting led to an interview with Connie, a 73-year-old eternal youth, as part of my series of articles on Haifa figures.  

With full openness, Connie told me his fascinating and difficult story. The story of a pleasant man, loving people, sensitive and talented, who did not give in to the great suffering he experienced in his life, fought bravely and became a trailblazer.   

As someone who is very connected to nostalgia (Haifa, in general), I chose to expand on Kony's memories of his youth in the old days, in Haifa of old.

Mother - Gutman family, Weistaub family

"My parents immigrated to Israel before the Holocaust," Connie tells me. "Mom, Gabriela, was born in Czechoslovakia (Czech Republic), daughter of the family Gutman. Mother grew up in a wealthy family, they owned an impressive estate and on the flat there were wineries and horse farms. In the spacious cellar under the house, Emma used to store jams she made from seasonal fruits.   

You parked, My grandfather on my mother's side, a doctor by profession, a member of the family Weistaub (in translation, a white dove), I didn't get to know.

Near the outbreak of World War II, my grandfather heard that the Germans were about to enter. In his resourcefulness, he took my grandmother, my mother and her brother Alexander in the middle of the night and bribed the captain of a ship carrying animals, to join them on the voyage, secretly. He himself, went to England. To this day I do not know why grandfather did not join his family members on their way to Palestine.

My grandmother had seven sisters, all doctors by profession and all married doctors in Polonia (Poland). When the war broke out, the family members paid the farmer they knew as a patient and trusted him. In exchange for a lot of gold and money, the farmer agreed to risk his life and hide them and even provided them with food and drink throughout the war. Unfortunately, their fate did not favor them. Immediately after the family members came out of hiding, they were all brutally murdered by the local Poles.

Father - his grandfather's family

father, Stephen (Haim Ishton), born in Hungary, was an outstanding student at the university in Budapest and received a scholarship (scholarship) to study medicine in Israel. He enrolled in medical studies at the Hebrew University on Mount Scopus in Jerusalem and came to Israel for that purpose, before the outbreak of World War II. This is how Dad's life was saved, but Dad missed the school year, which did not start as a series. my paternal grandparents, Paul וwhistle I didn't get to know. together with their daughter Lily, father's sister, they were burned in the concentration camp Theresienstadt.

Getting to know my parents

In the mid-forties of the last century, my mother ran the cafe "Kapolsky" in Tel Aviv, which was in great demand at that time. The mother, Yafet Miret, had many suitors. One of them was Dad, also a handsome man, who wooed her with great vigor. Mother's family did not like the relationship, but the love of the two could not be stopped.

After their marriage, the owner of the cafe tried to convince Emma to purchase the place on good terms, so that it would be her property. Father objected to this, for fear of accumulating debts that would not be able to be covered and mother had to refuse the offer which, in hindsight, of course, was very good. To support the family, father worked in various jobs: construction work, picking oranges, selling balloons in the shape of a penguin on a bamboo stick at the cinema...

Connie, the eldest son, was born in Tel Aviv on February 20.2.1947, XNUMX. His parents gave him the name Elkana (Kono), which quickly became: Koni, a name that accompanies him to this day.  

His grandfather's family moves to Haifa

In the meantime," Kony continues in his story, "Father was accepted into the British Mandate Police and stationed in the lower city of Haifa. For months, father traveled every day from Tel Aviv to Haifa, an exhausting journey in the difficult conditions of those days.

On November 30.11.1947, XNUMX, immediately after the partition plan was accepted at the UN Assembly, the Arabs of the Land of Israel launched offensive operations against the Jewish settlement in the Land of Israel to prevent its implementation. Sniper attacks on the residents and food shortages were part of everyday life.

One day, when Mom was combing her hair in front of the mirror in our apartment, a bullet entered through the window, passed near Mom's head and smashed the mirror with force. Following the traumatic event, my parents decided to leave Tel Aviv.

We moved to Haifa, towards the end of the war, when I was two years old, so I hardly remember life in Tel Aviv. Most of my memories are from my childhood in Haifa.

Following the permission given to the British police officers to settle in the abandoned Arab houses ("the abandoned property"), we lived in an Arab house near the Gedera steps. After that, we moved to Yaffe Nof street number 105a. A year after moving to Haifa, my younger brother was born, Strong.

Father did not want mother to go out to work, but she finally relented, after she was offered a job in a candy store in the center of Carmel, owned by her friend, Ms. caramel, which I remember from the perspective of a small child, as an old woman with curly hair. The love of sweets has remained with me since those days.   

The house on Panorama Street

My parents sent me to Kinder Yuli, further down the street, and the following year I continued to Kinder Tzipora, which was at the beginning of Elhanan Street in the center of Carmel. After that, I studied at "Ilanot" school and later at "David Yelin".

We lived on Panorama Street (Yafa Nof), number 105A, without a doubt the most beautiful street in Haifa, then and now. The wall of my room facing the Haifa Bay was made entirely of transparent glass windows, through which a breathtaking view of Haifa was reflected between the pine trees. Every year, on the eve of Independence Day, all the neighbors gathered at our house and together we watched the spectacular fireworks display from my bedroom window. It was an impressive experience like no other

The milkman, the "petrol man" and the ice seller

These are the days of austerity. Regina and Fredich Weistaub, wealthy relatives from Argentina, sent us groceries and products that helped us a lot during the difficult period.  

Once a week, the "oil man" would pass by, with the oil cart, holding in his hand a huge bell whose ringing reached the end of the street. In the blink of an eye, the neighbors would come out of their homes and gather around the oil cart, with tools in hand to fill the amount of oil according to their needs. I remember that our oil seller lived in the center of Carmel, in the passage where Shufersal is now located, but I don't remember his name.  

The milkman, a handsome man of Hungarian descent, would pass the street with the milk cart, in which a crate was loaded with large glass bottles of milk. The milkman poured the heavy milk from the jug into the glass bottles and brought them to each family's home according to their needs. It was hard physical work.     

At that time there were still no electric refrigerators and every family stored the food in the home ice fridge. The ice seller, he would also come to our street once a week, his cart loaded with blocks of ice. A quarter of a block, half a block or a whole block, each family according to its needs. I remember the iron hook that hung on the cart, and was meant to grip the slippery block of ice. Later, when Dad purchased an electric refrigerator imported from the United States, it was a real celebration.

washer, hanger

Mother washed the sheets, towels and dirty clothes, as was the custom of those days, using a tin paila (tub), on which lay a corrugated tin plate, on which she rubbed the laundry with a rectangular block of olive oil soap ("oil"). Physical work is quite difficult. 

At a later stage, my parents bought a "Kilil" washing machine. I remember among its parts, two wheels, a rubber and a manual. When the water-squeezing stage came, the machine shook the whole house...

Mother's cakes, which she baked on the primus, in a mold with a chimney, were a thing there. Later, the "Friedman" oven also joined the celebration of mother's cooking. Later, in the program I presented on "Radio in Haifa", I dealt with various topics, but I dedicated a place of honor to foods from my mother's house.  

A complex childhood

My seemingly peaceful childhood was interrupted more than once by the atmosphere of incessant quarrels of my parents. Maybe it was because of the great difference in character and maybe because of mutual jealousy, since both were good-looking and well-rounded. And we, the children, of course, absorbed. More than once I was sent by my mother on a mission: "Tell father", and vice versa. It's so confusing... 

Dad worked hard to provide for the family and made sure we didn't lack food and toys. But when my brother and I did something wrong, father surprised us with severe beatings, as was the custom in those days, with a belt and a stick, as he himself received as a child in Hungary. Today I know that father did not know any other education. 

Mother, of course, never raised her hand on me and tried to protect me when Father whipped, but to no avail.      

Atonement rooster

As an animal lover with a sensitive soul, I often found an injured bird, brought it home, cared for it with devotion and love and released it into the wild when it recovered.

One day, when I was about 5 years old, my father brought me a chick from the market in Nazareth. Wasn't happy with me. The chick, which grew up to become a rooster, became my best friend. One day father took the rooster and refused to tell me where it was headed. I refused to leave my rooster and followed father. Thus, not knowing what to expect, I arrived at Mr Toker, The butcher, who lives further down Yaffe Nof Street.  

I will never forget the trauma I experienced in the next few minutes. I was standing next to the butcher when suddenly he slit the throat of my rooster and I was filled with blood. I was shocked, I was so angry! Dad killed my pet, the friend I loved!!

When mother arrived home, she pounced on father: "What did you do to the child"?? scolded angrily. Father, in his insensitivity, replied simply: "Rooster - intended for eating."

Since that moment I have not been able to eat animals.  

the hunter

Dad liked to watch war movies. If there was no blood in the movie, it was not considered a good movie for him, while mom and I liked romantic "sissy" movies.. 

Father used to hunt with guns and knives, and my brother accompanied him from a young age. I will not forget the difficult sights, when they returned with the loot, rabbits and birds. The sight of a father stripping the skin of the animals, tying them to the frame of one of the doors. In the window, hang partridges. It was terrible, I was angry and pained the suffering of the animals, but I couldn't do anything.

Along with the lust for hunting and the war films, I also saw rare moments of sensitivity: it was when dad listened to Hungarian gypsy music, which reminded him of his childhood. Then tears of excitement flowed from his eyes. When I look back today, I understand that the difficult childhood I had and the many scars I experienced shaped my life.

About ballet and war games

From a young age I was a sensitive child by nature, I resembled my mother, while my brother resembled my father. I never liked war movies, I wasn't into the boys' games. I didn't even like playing marbles. But children are like children, and at a certain point, the boys around me started teasing me, mocking me for being "like a girl". I felt different.     

My brother loved to run around in mud puddles. He would come back covered in mud from head to toe. Me, I maintained cleanliness and aesthetics, romping in a puddle was not my "cup of tea".

I loved watching classical ballet, dancing, wrapping myself in colorful fabrics, listening to classical music played at home. Later, I started going to concerts. I especially liked psychological films. I remember the movie from the 50s "Three Faces to the Farm", which tells the story of a woman who suffered from a split personality, really shocked me. 

I really like the singing of black soul singers, listening to the singing of the legendary Frank Sinatra, watching old movies. Often gets excited and sheds a tear.  

Like many of my generation, I also grew up with the story that "children come into the world with Hasidism". One day, our family doctor, Dr. Goldstein, in the book: "A baby is born". This is how I completed my knowledge on the subject, many years before the age of the Internet.     

turning point

It was a short time before they celebrated my birthday. We moved from Yaffe Nof Street to David Pinsky Street. A few days after we settled in the new apartment, my parents went to a family wedding in Jerusalem. Going down the stairs of the house, you met the neighbor's son from the lower floor, a 16-year-old boy, three years older than me. He asked for permission to visit me and my parents were of course happy that I wouldn't be left alone. They had no idea what was to come, and if they had known, they would certainly have done something to prevent it...

I opened the door. The handsome boy standing in front of me introduced himself. We started talking. When Eitan asked me to show him my parents' bedroom, I showed him and did not suspect a thing. Without me realizing what was happening, he undressed me and lay on top of me and I, in complete shock, did not resist. Actually, it was very enjoyable.. It was my first sexual experience. 

I didn't tell my parents anything about it, but since that day, Ethan and I have met many times underground, in the dense grove on Deer Ave of those days. So, for a long time. Eitan looked after me and I felt loved. Today, by the way, Eitan is married and has children and grandchildren.

It was very difficult for the conservative environment of those days to accept me at that time. Everywhere I went, they laughed at me, made fun of me, called me horrible names. I suffered indescribable suffering, but I was afraid to tell my parents about it. If my parents had known then, they would have killed me...

After Eitan, I went to parties in Tel Aviv and met other boys. I loved to dance, I was the star of the parties, what is commonly called the "nail of the evening". I loved spending time in Tel Aviv, which has learned to openly accept the LGBT community, but I wanted to stay in Haifa, my favorite city.

How do you tell dad...

At some point, the father learned about a bribery affair involving the sale of meat involving police officers. It bothered him a lot and he decided to leave the police. Upon his departure, father was appointed secretary of the Pharmacists' Association.

At that time, I was active in the Boy Scouts tribe "Meshotetti BaCarmel" and when I turned 18, I enlisted in the IDF and was assigned to the Tel Nof base in the Air Force, in a technical responsible position for spare parts for Mirage aircraft. During the interesting service, I did not share anything concerning my sexual tendencies.

When I was 21 years old, after my release from military service, I decided to tell my father. In order to gain time to talk with my father, I had to arrange a meeting ahead of time in his busy schedule, a meeting that would not take place at home, but rather in his splendid office.

I sat down opposite dad. I mustered up my courage and in a trembling and scared voice I told that I was attracted to men. Father's response was not long in coming, in a thunderous and angry voice: "You shame me, it disgusts me, I want you to run away from home, and more than that - I want you not to live here in Israel!".

I burst into tears. "Is that how you throw me to the dogs? Because of you I'm gay"! I whimpered. My words made the father raise his voice even more. "It's not because of me," he snapped. "It's because mom pampered you too much!"    

Father refused to accept me as I am and demanded that I not tell mother about it. But in the end, after I spoke about my father's heart, he agreed to send me to a relative on my mother's side, Dr. Diamant, a psychiatrist by profession. After my meeting with him, the priest explained to my father about the great daily suffering I was going through, and recommended that we go to a psychologist in Haifa for joint treatment.

Mother accepted me with understanding and inclusion, she loved me as I am and did not agree to hear about Father's plan to remove me from the house. At first, father kept a great distance between us when we walked together, lest we be linked...but slowly, gradually, father learned to accept me.

The world of optics

When I was in the 8th grade, we were asked to fill out questionnaires that would help us formulate a specific field of study. The analysts of my questionnaire said that its findings indicated that I was suitable to study at a vocational school. Thus, I found myself studying lathes and various iron trades at the "Shaprincek" school. The studies were interesting but I felt that it was not suitable for me and at the end of the year I left.

One day, my parents told me about the discussions at a social meeting with Shapira, owner of an optical shop on Herzl Street, with whom they were friends. He offered to connect me with the owner of the optical shop from Disney, Gerber, who was just looking for an apprentice, and so it was.

I started a learning process with Mr Gerber, "Yaka" by origin, then the head of the opticians' organization. At that time, the work was manual and not easy. It was necessary to draw the pattern manually, break the glass according to the drawing with pliers and polish.     

At some point, I decided to leave and go to Amsterdam. After the conservative environment in Israel made me understand that something was wrong with me, I met many homosexuals in Amsterdam, like myself. First time I felt I was not alone.

I had a great year in Amsterdam but I missed home, Eretz, Haifa. I returned to Israel and worked in an optics store in Jerusalem, a job that my father arranged for me. Some time later, my parents bought a store for me in Haifa and I became self-employed.

My first optical shop was in the old heart of Hadar, on the top floor of the Passage on Hanaviyim Street 20, next to Cafe Roma and Falafel Wiseman. The store that I set up with my own hands, has customers who came from near and far to use my skills for adjusting frames for glasses from the abundance of special examples that I brought.       

At a later stage, I moved to the store on the lower floor of the Passage, in the square of the Amishragaz store.

Over the years, there was a change in the character of Hadar. The area of ​​the complex became a place where drugs were sold at night and when the police raids increased, I decided to close the shop. I spent the following three years in Atanchata, as a regular visitor to Cafe Alika on Masada Bahadar Street.

Being a person is the whole story

Eight years ago, Abdullah Yazbek, a veteran optometrist, accepted me to work in one of the optical shops he owns.  

Abdullah welcomed me with open arms, without considering my differences at all. Moreover: he had a conversation with his children and explained to them how important it is to accept each person for who they are. Abdullah, a dear man, adopted me into his family and I cherish him thanks and appreciation.   

In memory of the lovely Orna

In my youth, I was very friendly with Orna Marbach, a member of my brother's sect, who lived not far from our house. She was a beautiful girl, her beauty was magnetic and she had many suitors. I dreamed out loud that I would have a sister like Orna. For years we kept in touch as friends and had soulful conversations and even when Orna grew up and became a successful fashion designer, she used to visit me in the store.  

One day, father saw my brother walking hand in hand with Orna. He stopped his car, put my brother in the car and firmly informed him that from that day on he forbids him to see her. My brother said he was in love with her and was not interested in the same thing... Thus, father had to tell my brother that Orna was born as a result of an affair he had with her mother. He made my brother swear not to tell my mother or me about it. To Orna, father told himself some time later.  

Near father's passing, my brother recorded him in his voice telling about it and played the recording to me. I was shocked to hear that my best friend Orna is my half sister! I immediately contacted Orna, who at the time was living in Italy. We kept in daily contact by phone and my brother and I were even invited to her wedding with a rich Italian baron. In the meantime, her husband passed away, and a few months ago, I heard with great sadness that Orna also passed away.  

on eyelashes and blinds

With the boyish haircut and the special chic look, it's hard to believe that Kony is already 73 years old. "The corona doesn't stress me. I believe that everything depends on fate. I'm not afraid of death, when it comes, I'll accept it with love," Kony declares. 

He does not have a mobile phone and is not connected to email, but he has a Facebook profile. He is professional, courteous and pleasant. It is pleasant to see from the side the high level of service, which is not taken for granted in our districts, which the customers receive in the store.         

While I was interviewing and photographing Connie for the article, a handsome guy entered the store, slightly hesitant. His wife was waiting outside. "Do you have an Oakley"? he asks. "I'm a Moshavnik, all my life with Oakley glasses, another one of those lenses that change color!" he stated proudly. "Okay, so I understand you're showing off," Connie defies him. "In that case, I will also say that I have been careful for years to drive sports cars. I had, for example," Connie enjoyed telling, a "Peugeot Cabriolet 206". From here the conversation drifted to matters of cars and Kahane. Connie, who loves puns, enjoys having fun for a moment. "The guy has eyelashes like blinds," he told me with a smile.

Groundbreaking

"The special clothing, the hairstyle, the mascara on the eyelashes, the long nails, all of these are a part of me. I suffered countless curses and insults and I, so sensitive, learned to develop the skin of an elephant.

I came out of the closet at a time when it was not yet acceptable. I went through indescribable suffering, but I chose to slow down, to be a trailblazer - and I'm very proud of that."