Purim in No Man’s Land in Mamilla, 1956 – Another “Once upon a Time in Jerusalem”
In the photo, residents of the Mamilla neighborhood stand near the Tannous Building during the days when Mamilla was a no man’s land between Jerusalem, the Jordanian-controlled territory, and the nearby Old City. They are dressed in homemade costumes crafted from whatever materials were available that year.
Jerusalem’s Purim was always a mystery—would it snow? Rain? Or would we be blessed with a warm day?
Preparations began weeks in advance, with the most popular costumes being a cowboy (pronounced kuboy in Jerusalemite slang), an Indian, a soldier, or a policeman.
The girls debated between dressing as a princess, Queen Esther, or a fairy—which were essentially all the same costume.
For those who dared to push the limits, the boldest among them dressed as a butterfly or a policewoman—costumes that, in today’s era of self-expression and minimal fabric, might resemble the uniforms of a modesty patrol.
The anarchists of the time dressed as punks—which was the same as the other costumes, just with makeup, sunglasses, and black lipstick. The extra-devoted ones sprayed their hair with bright-colored paint, which immediately turned it rock-hard and left their scalps stained for the next two weeks.
If you wanted to guess what your friend’s costume would be, you just had to know what their older sibling had worn the year before—chances were, that costume had now been passed down to the youngest.
Toy guns with caps, tiny gunpowder discs fitted into plastic revolver drums, single-headed arrows that made a loud bang when slammed hard against the floor,
rolled-up gunpowder strips in red paper coils, firecrackers, and other such “weapons“ that today would get the standards institute shut down and send importers to prison for life.
Mishloach manot consisted of a crumpled plastic bag containing a lollipop (metzitza in Jerusalemite slang), a handful of crumbling hamantaschen, a Bazooka bubble gum, and some chocolate lentil candies—and that was only if the friend was really important, and the parents could afford it.
In later years, the Purim scene in the city evolved.
Hundreds of cowboys, Indians, and policemen flooded Ben Yehuda’s pedestrian mall, gathering around Gidi Yon’s small record store—a 20-square-meter shop with loudspeakers blasting outside, a place that, back then, was MTV, YouTube, and Spotify all in one.
With Eli Ohana-style haircuts, featuring a curled mullet and a middle part, everyone felt like they were walking the red carpet at the Oscars.
Anyone who got pocket money from their grandmother went to buy a bag of nuts from Behari in the alley, a soaked Sabrina cake at Café Naveh, or arcade tokens for the Top Electronic Games arcade in the Passage Mall.
A little foam spray, a lot of crowding, sticky hands, and sweat-smudged makeup, and everyone was beyond happy—feeling like they were at the millennium party in Ibiza.
It was the simplest, but the happiest.
Those were the days.
An outsider wouldn’t understand.
But those who were there, who lived it—will never forget.
Purim is a holiday of hidden faces, but also of great turnarounds.
Let us hope and pray for a complete reversal—for the better.
May we recognize the uniqueness and miracles of our people and may we be worthy of “LaYehudim Tihiye Ora VeSimcha”.
Happy Purim and Shabbat Shalom from Jerusalem to all those far and near.
May all the hostages return home quickly, along with the IDF soldiers, and may we have many reasons to increase our Simcha and witness true unity among us.
📷 Photo: The Zionist Archives
