PERHAPS IT'S THE INEVITABLE byproduct of a centuries-old Jewish Diaspora, but Israelis are unquestionably one of the world’s most peripatetic people.

“Jews are wanderers,” said Norman Chait, a 41-year-old White Plains resident and proud Israeli citizen, whose accent reveals his upbringing in South Africa. Like Chait, an increasing number of wandering Israelis are calling Westchester home — for now. As the county grows increasingly diverse and attracts growing numbers of young, Jewish families, more and more Israelis are finding themselves in the mix.

They are part of a rising tide of compatriots who are leaving Israel in ever-greater numbers — from fewer than 20,000 in 1998 to more than 27,000 in 2001, according to official statistics provided by the Migration Policy Institute, a Washington-based organization. While some might see cause for concern, the Institute and the Israeli government point out that it is traditional for young Israelis to spend extended time abroad. They come for adventure, for the opportunity to study at an American university, to spread their professional wings in a much larger country, to take a break from the stress of Mideast instability. They find love, or a good job, and they stay.

“Israel is pretty small for a young, single person,” said Ziva Zaff, who came here to study and travel 20 years ago and is somewhat amazed to find herself still in New York.

Interestingly, and in marked contrast to most immigrant ethnic groups, many Israelis say they never planned to leave Israel for good. Most dream of returning, even as they adjust to longer-than-anticipated, open-ended American sojourns.

Chait, who works in finance, chalks this phenomenon up to Israelis’ characteristic spontaneity.

And like many of his compatriots, Chait does not view the Israeli Diaspora with concern. “I think it’s two ways,” he said. “You take any country of the same size in Europe and you will find similar numbers. People move in all directions.”

Of his Jewish and Israeli friends from business school, Chait added, nearly all except him have returned to Israel or made aliyah. Perhaps Israelis, many of whose own parents and grandparents immigrated from somewhere else, are uniquely well-suited to moving between cultures. Or perhaps, as Chait suggested, it is America that has become more attractive to cultural transience.

“You don’t have this idea of the melting pot any longer,” he said, noting that Israelis, like other modern immigrants, maintain their distinctive identity while making themselves at home here. They make American friends, but they also join organizations like the 50-family-strong social club Westchester Israelis, or Dor Chadash, the Israel advocacy and social network of Israelis and Israel-positive New Yorkers. Here, a look at how four Israelis are calling Westchester home.

Following his dream

Koby Hayon
Like so many jazz musicians before him, Yaachov Hayon, who goes by the nickname of Koby, followed his dream to the bright lights and jazz clubs of New York City.

“New York has the best jazz scene. Got the history, got the tradition ... New York is the place,” said Hayon, a 34-year-old Jerusalem native who bubbles with enthusiasm. Hayon was already an established musician in Tel Aviv’s arts scene when he decided to try his talent on a larger stage. In August 2001, he arrived in Westchester to study music at SUNY Purchase.

Arriving with only a suitcase and a guitar— he plays guitar and bass and composes his own jazz — Hayon was at first constantly reminded of his displacement as he dealt with life’s mundane details, such as unfamiliar electrical outlets and Fahrenheit temperatures instead of Celsius.

The more subtle adjustment to “the American mentality” included being sensitive to the local image of Israelis as “macho, intrusive, loud,” as he put it. “I’m about halfway there now,” Hayon confided. “I’m much more open.”

Like so many of his compatriots, Hayon never exactly intended to immigrate, but as his career has blossomed, he intends to stay as long as New York remains the land of opportunity. “I never really abandoned Israel,” said Hayon, whose family is supportive of his move. “I miss it a lot. Although I am comfortable here, I do not forget who I am. There is no question where my heart is.”

Hayon regrets not being in Israel to watch his nieces and nephews grow up, but he objects to the idea that he might feel guilt about leaving his vulnerable homeland. “I served in the military,” he said. “But now I have my life and career.”

In New York, Hayon has toured with a jazz band and promotes his music on his website, kobyhayon.com. He has also found a musical and religious niche at Westchester Reform Temple, where he teaches music and eighth grade religious school and plays guitar.

“I discovered here the Reform movement,” said Hayon with the wonder of an immigrant whose eyes have been opened in a way that would have been impossible back home. “I grew up next to a Reform temple, and I never went in. Here, I discovered how beautiful my religion can be.”

At the same time, Hayon believes he has a mission in New York: to share his own distinctive culture, which includes original compositions that blend Middle Eastern and Yemeni sounds with jazz. “I want to share my love, my musical wish,” he said.

Maintaining ties Sharon and Norman Chait Fourteen years into their American adventure, Sharon and Norman Chait work hard to maintain their Israeli ties. The couple speaks Hebrew to their three school-age American children, and the family spends several months each summer at the home they own in Israel.

“The fact that we own a house there makes us feel like we belong,” said Sharon, who recently completed a transition from food science to Jewish nonprofit work, overseeing the Westchester Jewish Conference’s Westchester Israel Action Committee. “My kids are American. But they are also Israelis.”

Like so many of their compatriots, the Chaits never expected to put down roots in New York; they planned to stay just long enough for Norman to fulfill his dream of earning an MBA from Columbia University.

Then Sharon received a degree in food science from New York University, and the family moved to Westchester when she took a job with Pepsi-Cola here. By then, Norman was happily ensconced on Wall Street and the two-year plan had gone out the window. At first, the Chaits missed the support system of their own families. They have replicated that system here, forming a tight circle of Israeli friends with whom they celebrate holidays and socialize in Hebrew.

The Chaits are members of Westchester Israelis, and Sharon is also involved with Gvanim Sderot, a social action group that advocates for lower-income families in a violence-plagued part of southern Israel near where she grew up. The three Chait children attend the Solomon Schechter School of Westchester.

“I guess since we’ve moved to White Plains and sent the kids to Jewish day schools, we’ve felt more part of the Jewish community in Westchester,” said Norman, who was born in South Africa, made aliyah after high school and was naturalized as an Israeli soon after. “There’s so many people from so many places, one doesn’t feel alien here. I’ve heard that people in other cities with less diversity have a harder time. “What’s important is that we’ve blended in, but we maintain our identity. We have friends from Israel, friends who are American Jews, friends who are not Jews.”

The Chaits seem content to follow opportunity. “We’ve not put down roots here that could not be pulled up,” said Norman. “We like it here, but we don’t look at coming to the United States as a point of no return.”

“We’re happy here, happy there,” summed up Sharon.

Israeli roots stay strong

Ziva Zaff

Ziva Zaff longs to be with Israelis on Passover, to recite the Haggadah in Hebrew, to sing the familiar songs she grew up with. Living in Westchester, Zaff, 45, feels the constant tug of her Israeli roots. “We feel like we are uprooted, and we will never, ever feel part of this society,” she said, speaking for herself and some other Israelis she knows here. “I never left Israel,” she went on, her tone somewhere between yearning and defiance. “I would always say, ‘I’ll go back after one year, two years.’ I just came to travel; I never meant to stay.”

While Zaff may never have left Israel emotionally, physically she left nearly 20 years ago, intending, as many young Israelis do, to spend most of a year immersed in American culture. She felt comfortable in the U.S. from the start.

Zaff studied theater, then film and television at New York University. For a while she split her time, six months in each country. She kept coming back, lured by opportunities she lacked at home, like being able to study yoga and shiatsu. She looked for jobs with Jewish connections, like the one at an Israeli entertainment agency in Manhattan. Along the way, she fell in love. When Zaff met her husband, an American Jew, she had been in the U.S. for six years and was on the verge of returning for good. The couple now lives in Scarsdale, has two school-age children and owns a film and television production company.

“When we bought the house in Scarsdale, my mother didn’t thinking I was coming up in the world, doing well for myself,” recalled Zaff. “She thought I was putting down roots, and she was upset.” Zaff’s own parents were immigrants from Iran.

“I have a big family; my parents are getting older, my siblings, and I’m not a part of their life,” she said wistfully. Maintaining the Israeli identity in a mixed American marriage is a challenge, Zaff said.

“Our kids don’t really learn the language; I speak Hebrew to them, and they want to speak English,” she said. “My kids ask me, ‘Can I celebrate some Christian things?’ I tell them, ‘I don’t go hunting for Easter eggs.’ I’m trying to give them some pride. It’s a constant thing to teach them what for Israelis comes naturally.” Zaff’s family attends Temple Israel of White Plains; she tried to start a weekly Hebrew program with other Israeli families, but was unsuccessful.

“I still think about taking my kids to Israel for a few years,” Zaff said. “We go back every summer. And while I have American friends, when I meet another Israeli, it’s an instant click — we’re family.” WJC