Dugo’s Falafel: A Mother’s Promise and a Pita Full of Life

Looking at this envelope, you might wonder what a lady talking to a little boy, a tree growing bread rolls and a stamp full of falafel have in common.

Quite a story, as it happens.

The lady represents Dugo’s mother. The Hebrew words beside her say: “When you grow up, you will go to the Land of Israel. There, round bread rolls grow on the trees.” The little boy imagines just such a tree. A lovely promise to give a child, even if the gardening advice leaves something to be desired.

But those words would take on a meaning his mother could hardly have imagined.

David “Dugo” Leitner was just fourteen when, on 18 January 1945, he was forced onto a death march from Auschwitz. Hungry, freezing and exhausted, he remembered his mother’s stories about the Land of Israel and the little golden rolls she called bilkelach. The thought of those rolls waiting for him helped him keep going. For a starving boy, there was something to live for, somewhere beyond the snow.

Dugo survived. His mother did not. In 1949 he came to Israel, carrying memories of a home and family that had been destroyed. Then, in Jerusalem’s Mahane Yehuda market, he encountered something he had never seen before: round, golden falafel balls. They reminded him of the bilkelach his mother had promised him. They tasted quite different, but the connection stayed with him.

The bread rolls had not grown on trees, of course. But here he was, in Israel, able to buy food and eat until he was satisfied. After what he had endured, that simple freedom meant a great deal.

Dugo began marking every 18 January by eating falafel. Think about the choice of date. He took the anniversary of the day he had been marched out into the snow to face possible death and made it an occasion to celebrate being alive.

I find something very Jewish in that. Remember what happened, certainly. Remember those who never came home. And then eat.

What began as a personal and family custom became “Operation Dugo.” In 2016, Beit HaEdut in Nir Galim turned it into a wider invitation to share his story and join him in eating falafel. The tradition continues after his death in 2023.

That is what makes this envelope special to me. The mother’s words, the child’s imaginary tree and the falafel all belong together. Once you know the story, the cheerful illustration carries a sadness you might otherwise miss, but also a reason to smile.

His mother never lived to see him in Israel. Yet her promise travelled with him.

And every 18 January, another portion of falafel helps tell their story.

Historical sources: Beit HaEdut, Operation Dugo; The Times of Israel, David Leitner’s story. Translation of the Hebrew wording from the illustrated envelope.