What’s Halva Got To Do With Egypt?

Another gem from Helene Hadsell’s files. This was written on May 4th, 2005.

Come with me to a palace in Egypt. I am only four years old, but I can recall it so vividly… as if it were yesterday.

What triggered this flashback for me that happened so many lifetimes ago? It was HALVA. That’s right, Halvah. And what is Halvah?

Halva, Halvah is a confection or sweetmeat originating in the Balkans and eastern Mediterranean regions. It is made from ground sesame seeds, honey, or sugar syrup with other ingredients such as dried fruit, pistachio nuts, farina (semolina), and almonds sometimes added. Cinnamon and cardamom are also frequently added. The ingredients are blended together and then heated and poured into bars or long loaves. The name literally means ‘sweetmeat,’ and various forms of the word may be found in Turkish, Greek, Yiddish, Arabic, etc. (Helva, halva, halvah, halwa, halawi, etc.)

But let me bring you up to snuff first to 1928… then I’ll take you back in time to Egypt and my first encounter tasting Halva. Stay with me, readers; it’s worth the trip. Who knows, you may enjoy scouting the health food or specialty stores, searching for a tantalizing taste of Halva that just might take you back to a little bite from the Old World. Or you may want to make it from the recipes that you can access on the Internet. Just click on to HALVA, HALVAH. I personally like the recipe made with dried egg whites, honey, ground sesame seeds, olive oil, and vanilla. Those were the ingredients listed on the block I bought and the taste that I remember.

I’m certain a number of you are familiar with this sweetmeat but just haven’t had a recall.

I was raised by German/Russian parents in Aberdeen, South Dakota, who were strict Catholics; they went by the letter of whatever the pope, bishop, or priests decreed. At that period in time, Catholics were not allowed to eat meat on Fridays. So we had fried dumplings, sauerkraut, Bausch (beet soup), sweet cabbage with potatoes, and a lot of freshly baked bread.

Because Friday was a meatless day, my mother made our evening meal special; we each were served a piece of halva, a one-inch square. She went to the local home-owned grocery store in the middle of our block and had the butcher cut out a square piece four by four inches. I should know because she occasionally took me with her.

I would ask her why she didn’t wrap it in a leaf for me. “It tastes better,” I would explain.

“Mr. Wenz always has it wrapped around a leaf when he gives me a piece.”

“Who is Mr.Wenz?” she would ask.

“You know, papa’s friend. I would walk with him and Papa when they went to the room where there were a lot of papers on the tables.” As a child, that is all I could remember. My mother sloughed it off as my imagination. Over time, I forgot it and gave it no further consideration…that is, until several months ago.

I was shopping in WALMART in February of this year when I passed a basket of marked-down items that didn’t sell during Christmas. There were half-pound blocks of HALVA marked down from $2.50 to $1.00. I picked up four blocks and was looking forward to having a piece with a cup of green tea when I got home.

I began nibbling on a one-by-one-inch piece of Halva as I picked up the Reader’s Digest to read and relax. Then it happened… I was back in Egypt as a four-year-old. The scene replayed with the three of us walking toward a huge room where Papa and Mr. Wenz worked. This time, I recalled my being there. I surmise that that was a period in that lifetime where I felt love from not only my parents but also from Mr. Wenz. The Halva triggered the memory.

My dad and Mr. Wenz were good friends. They lived on the palace grounds, and they worked as tax collectors during that period. The next scene I recall was when I was twelve years old and being sold in an arena. There was upheaval and sadness. I won’t go into detail because I have a habit of shutting off unpleasant experiences. I choose not to give them any energy; they serve no purpose except to make me sad.

So what? That was so long ago I pushed it out of my mind. I want to stay in the moment of enjoying the taste of halva now and when I was a four-year-old.

Have you ever had a glimpse into a past life?