Then their chant began. Ten thousand feet thumping and beating to the rhythm of true words:

"Am Israel Chai."

The People Of Israel Live.

The People Of Israel Live. 

Ukraine has only a few thousand observant Jews left. In 1939 1.5 million Jews lived here. But in Vinnitzia, two hours away through the thick oak forests where Nachman would wander through the night speaking to the ghoulish dybbuks in the trees, I found a working synagogue, the only one in the old marches of Nachman's Hasids.

It was a small, dimly-lit hall with cigarette ash on the floor and popped pink and yellow balloons left pinned up on the walls from the holiday. I talked to Isaac, its ageing moustachioed guardian. As I shook his hand I saw they were covered in Russian prison tattoos — stars, numbers and faded blotches between thumb and forefinger. 

Isaac cleared his throat. "We have maybe ten oldies who pray here once a week." 

His eyes were fixed on a framed congratulatory note, signed and stamped in his honour by the Israeli ambassador himself.

"But this is nothing. This used to be a Yiddish city. Not a 0.001 per cent Jewish city."

Suddenly, there was a thump at the door. But we smelt the intruder first. The drunk was in a brown suede jacket and a smeared T-shirt — "MIAMI Pros". He stank of vodka. He was sweating vodka. His eyes were bloodshot from vodka. He was panting. 

"I am looking for God." He screwed up his puffy Slavic face. "But where is he? Where is he? I went to the mosque . . . I went to the Poles, I went to the Russians . . . But he's not there . . . He's not there!" 

Isaac flinched into the doorframe, his hand hovering inches from its knob. His spine straightened. 

"Come back tomorrow. I'm sorry but  you're drunk."

The Ukrainian suddenly became angry.

"Why?" he was shouting now, "why do you believe . . . all this shit? Do you believe this? Why?" 

Isaac looked frightened, then insulted. "Because it is written in our holy book."

The drunk staggered but held his gaze. 

"But how is . . . that book  . . . different from all other books?"

He left in a great commotion, crying.