Tatiana Krayushkina: “We Brought [Jews] Out of the Shadows”

TAJIKISTAN

While traveling through France, I experienced one of those rare and moving encounters that stays with you forever. As a student at Ariel University studying Communication, Public Engagement, and the Fight Against Antisemitism, I unexpectedly met a fellow native of Dushanbe.

Tatiana Krayushkina is a woman of remarkable warmth and strength of character. She graciously agreed to share her story. We spoke about her calling, the hidden Jewish families of Tajikistan, and the fight against antisemitism—not through slogans or public campaigns, but through quiet, practical efforts to help people rediscover their identity and find a home.

Our conversation touched on the search for Jews who had concealed their heritage, the challenges of assisting them in making aliyah, and the extraordinary work carried out by the Christian humanitarian organization Ebenezer Fund.

The following is an edited transcript of our interview.

Moishe Sabirov: Tatiana, please tell us a little about yourself.

Tatiana Krayushkina: I was born and raised in Dushanbe. In 2000, I joined the Ebenezer Fund as a volunteer, and by 2001 I was hired part-time. Until 2004, I was the organization’s sole representative in Tajikistan.

M.S.: How did you become involved with the fund? Who worked there before you?

T.K.: Before me, the organization was represented by a woman from Kazakhstan. She worked in Tajikistan for two years—the fund had begun its activities there in 1999. When she left, she handed all of her responsibilities over to me. Suddenly, I found myself working alone. It was a tremendous responsibility.

M.S.: What is the mission of the Ebenezer Fund?

T.K.: Ebenezer is a Christian organization supported by believers of many denominations around the world. Its supporters help the Jewish people return to Israel because they believe in the biblical promises made to Abraham. They view aliyah as the fulfillment of ancient prophecies. The organization operates entirely through donations.

M.S.: What was the primary goal of your work in Tajikistan?

T.K.: To find Jews throughout the Republic of Tajikistan, help them understand their heritage, introduce them to the possibility of aliyah, and provide practical assistance—from gathering documents to offering emotional support. We did much more than provide information; we accompanied people every step of the way.

M.S.: How did your work begin in practical terms?

T.K.: With the search itself. It was like a detective investigation! No one openly advertised their nationality. Everything spread through word of mouth, family connections, and chance references. I traveled throughout Tajikistan—to the south, the north, and the mountainous regions. Sometimes I traveled alone, sometimes with volunteers from local churches. You would find one person, and from that single thread you would begin unraveling entire family histories.

M.S.: How did you help the people you found?

T.K.: First, we built trust. We did not arrive as officials but as people who genuinely cared. We spoke about Israel, showed videos, and brought films about the history of the Jewish state. Many had never even heard of the Law of Return. If families were in need, we delivered monthly food packages regardless of whether they planned to emigrate or not.

For those who decided to make aliyah, we provided deeper assistance. We worked with the synagogue, arranged meetings with rabbis, helped gather documents, and searched through archives. It was painstaking and time-consuming work.

M.S.: How did your work differ from that of Jewish organizations operating through the synagogue?

T.K.: The synagogue primarily worked with people who were already part of the Jewish community in Dushanbe. We traveled to remote regions and found people who had become fully assimilated or concealed their origins. We brought people out of the shadows. That was our unique mission.

M.S.: What were your relations with the Jewish community like?

T.K.: Very warm and trusting. People welcomed us as their own. I participated in holiday celebrations. I still remember playing Queen Esther during Purim! We sang together, staged performances, and spoke about faith and tradition. People appreciated simple human attention—the fact that someone visited them, listened to them, and helped them. We had excellent relationships with both the rabbi and the community as a whole.

M.S.: What was the most important result of your work?

T.K.: The most important thing was that people learned the truth about their heritage and discovered the possibility of living safely in their ancestral homeland. Nearly every family we worked with eventually made aliyah. Even Mikhail Abdurakhmanov, the last rabbi of Dushanbe, resisted for a long time but ultimately left together with his brother. We accompanied people all the way to the airport and helped them during transit through Tashkent. It truly became a life’s mission.

M.S.: Did you encounter antisemitism in Tajikistan?

T.K.: Certainly. There was both overt and subtle antisemitism. People could be denied promotions, encounter obstacles when applying to universities, or face discrimination in everyday life. Many Jews—especially Bukharian Jews—became highly assimilated and carefully concealed their origins because it was a matter of personal security. The same was true for many Ashkenazi Jews, some of whom did not even know about their Jewish identity. We also found families of Mountain Jews, known as Tats.

M.S.: Tell us about a case that especially stands out in your memory.

T.K.: There was one large family in which all of the women had married Tajik men and considered themselves Muslim. We told them about their Jewish roots and introduced them to the possibility of aliyah. They decided to move. They sold everything and gathered the necessary documents.

However, during the visa process, a granddaughter wrote «Muslim» rather than «Jewish» on one of the forms. As a result, the grandmother, who had already received her visa, was denied permission to immigrate. It was a devastating blow. The family remained in Khujand. I hope that experience led them to reflect deeply on their identity.

The last Jew remaining in Khujand until 2021 was Jura Abaev.

M.S.: What were the greatest challenges you faced?

T.K.: People’s secrecy and fear. Lost documents. Changed surnames. The embassy’s bureaucracy and the very high standards of proof required to establish eligibility. But we never gave up.

M.S.: How was this assistance funded?

T.K.: Everything was provided free of charge. The fund covered transportation, visas, and flights for those in need. The State of Israel later covered the primary immigration expenses, but the initial support came entirely from the fund.

M.S.: With whom did you cooperate?

T.K.: We worked closely with the Jewish community, coordinated with the Jewish Agency, and maintained contact with the consulate. We did not publicize our activities to the Tajik authorities because it was a highly sensitive area.

M.S.: What happened after you left in 2004?

T.K.: My successor continued the work for several more years. Most of the Jews eventually left. Today, the Jewish community in Tajikistan is very small. Uzbekistan presents a different picture, where a significant Jewish diaspora still remains.

Tatiana’s story left a deep impression on me. It is a vivid example of how quiet, devoted work rooted in faith and compassion can change the destinies of entire families.

At a time when antisemitism is once again emerging in various parts of the world, people like Tatiana and organizations like the Ebenezer Fund remind us that the struggle for the Jewish people is carried out not only through public statements, but through concrete actions—helping people find a home, preserve their identity, and maintain their human dignity.

Thank you, Tatiana, for your service and for this sincere conversation.

This was translated
from Russian to English.

By Moishe Sabirov