Shabbat, 20th August, 1983.

Usually I sit down to write to you on a Saturday night, but tonight I'll be milking - and after milking (10:30pm or so) I'll have to do some packing. The big occasion - the moving to my room - has arrived at last. That doesn't mean that the room is ready. It simply means that they've painted it. I still need to have the light fixtures reconnected, window screens fixed and I still don't have a bed. However, having had the room painted, they seem to feel it perfectly reasonable that I should move out of the Ulpan - they are going to repaint my Ulpan room tomorrow, so I don't have a choice. Fortunately I'm milking tonight and I won't be asked to go to the dairy tomorrow, so I'll have the whole day to sort out those few little problems. I can probably do most of the things that need to be done myself, so all should be well.

Actually, I'm really keen to move now. On Friday afternoon I scrubbed my new room from corner to corner - and now I feel that it is really home. Amazing how a place never really feels homely until you've scrubbed it yourself.

I've been working hard in and around the dairy. They're still trying to convince me to stay - not because I'm such a great worker, but because they need people - but I'm not interested.

As a matter of interest, they reckon that they're making a decent profit in the dairy. They tell me that 65-70% of the income is costs, and the rest profit. They say feeding costs are 11 litres per cow per day - and that their average milk production is 8,000 litres per cow per year. At the moment they're making about 17 Shekels per litre, which is fractionally more than the consumer price. (Milk is subsidised here.) On kibbutz we don't use milk from the dairy, of course, but buy it pasteurized in 15-litre packets.

Anyway, I want to grab a little sleep before milking, so I'll write again later in the week.

Shabbat, 13th August, 1983.

Since my last letter to you, absolutely nothing has changed regarding my room - maybe this week. "Savlanut" is something I've developed a lot of. (Patience.)

I've been in the dairy for a week now. I wouldn't say that I enjoy it exactly, but it's certainly not a bad job - as long as it's summer! Actually, to be honest, it's a lot better than my last job; I'm just afraid to admit that publicly in case they decide to keep me there. I'd still prefer to be out in the fields.

Last Friday night the kibbutzniks hired a boat on the Kinneret - the "Love Boat", they called it. It was a pleasure cruise with disco, booze, etc., which lasted from ten in the evening until about 2:30 in the morning. (I didn't go.) Anyhow, on Saturday morning I asked our illustrious friend Lazar how he enjoyed it. An expression of pure agony crossed his face.


"I've never been so bored in my life," he said. "It's bad enough I should live on a kibbutz with these people - with a fence around us - but to be cramped into a boat with the same people ....why do I do it? For four and a half hours! I've never been with my wife for such a long stretch since we've been married! Why? I mean, we went from one end of Kinneret to the other, then from one end of Kinneret to the other, then from one end to the other .....I mean, where can you go on Kinneret? And what can you see at night? It's crazy! I thought of sinking the boat at one stage - just for something to do - but then I thought that with all the beer we had on board, the Kinneret would probably overflow. You've never seen so much beer in your life!"


"So next year," I said, "you'll go out in your little U-boat and sink the "Love Boat" for your fun?"

"Oh, no," he groaned, "next year they'll do something really exciting. They'll hire a train and shunt us back and forth between Jerusalem and Tel-Aviv. Not a whole train, mind you, just two carriages."

Aside from that, not a hell of a lot has been happening. The Ulpan seems far away now (and my Hebrew still further) as I settle down to a routine of work, eat and sleep. In this heat I tend to pass out for two hours in the afternoon. It's nice to know what my job is without having to check the work sheets every night. The only unknown is which shift I'll be milking. Every night after supper (at about eight) we have a short "refet" (dairy) meeting to determine the next day's shifts.

I still get a hell of a kick out of riding my bicycle. It's really useful at the dairy, too - dashing over to put some calves back in, or to check something at one of the sheds. It's a treat not to have to walk everywhere.

Oh, one thing I found quite amusing. The Volunteers all went over to a neighbouring kibbutz the other night on an organized visit (to their pub). I had no intention of going with them, (I'm not a Volunteer now, so strictly speaking, I shouldn't have anyway), but the Volunteer leader insisted that I did. Why? Because she didn't trust the tractor driver! She wanted me to come in case he got drunk (another South African) so that I could drive the tractor and wagon home. There we were, going to a party, twenty or so Volunteers on the back of a wagon!

Anyway, Aubrey was almost sober enough to drive home, which was a blessing, because I'm not sure that I would have found my way through those banana plantations - they're really dark at night. He only went off the road once. Unfortunately, that once was while he was trying to avoid some irrigation sprayers in the fodder fields. We got well and truly soaked while he tried to get the tractor back on the road.

Well, folks, that's all for now. The life here takes a lot of beating - I've never felt better!

Sunday, 7th August, 1983.

Thank you so much for that gift of fifty dollars! The one thing that I really needed here was a bicycle. I'd hoped that the kibbutz would provide one for me when I became a Guest, but that wasn't to be. As it happens, the dairy is a fair way from my new room (yes, I have one!) and I start there tomorrow. As it happened, a Japanese volunteer was leaving the kibbutz - and he had the ideal bicycle, a three-speed Raleigh, for which he wanted forty dollars. I received your gift the day before he left - and that night I bought the bike!

I can't tell you what a thrill it was. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it was as much of a thrill as buying a brand new car would be at home! I rode around the kibbutz that night with the exhilaration of a little kid! If I could have taken the bike to the bathroom with me, I would have.

Anyway, back to the rest of the "happenings". Today I finished working in the Economia and I start in the dairy tomorrow. I'll be doing the the midday milking, which means that I start at six in the morning, feed the cows until about ten, ten-thirty, then prepare for milking, which is from eleven until about two in the afternoon.

The other "event" of today was that my room was vacated. There are still a few things to be done to the room, so I won't move in for a few days - but at least I've seen it and I have the key. It's very small, but I love it. At least it has an air conditioner that works and I have my own bathroom (toilet and shower.) There's only one room - and in it I'll have a wardrobe, a bed, a table and a couple of chairs and a small refrigerator. Oh, and perhaps a black-and-white T.V., but if they don't give me one I won't complain. There's nothing much to watch, except for Radio Jordan, Jordan's English T.V. station. It's on in the evening and the English news is at ten at night. (I get the newspaper every day now - big deal! - the Jerusalem Post, which is in English.

Jonathan is working in the banana plantation more-or-less permanently now - he wants nothing whatsoever to do with the dairy! (On his first day they were sorting cows for vetinary attention, when one broke away from the group and charged off. The guys yelled to Jonathan "Stop it!" He looked in amazement at the cow bearing down on him and shouted back "HOW ?")

Lazar is still keeping me amused, but more of that another time. I must say that he has been very concerned and very involved with my transition to Guest status. He's really been very nice to me.

Shabbat, 30th July, 1983.

Nothing much has changed in the past week - I'm still living in my ulpan room and I have another week to go of working in the "Economia". You should see me tearing around on my little tractor and wagon!

There's one new development. When I have finished with the Economia next week, I'll be working in the Dairy until about the 10th September, when I can start in the cotton fields. At the moment the irrigation pipes are still in the lands - (they use drip irrigation) - so we can't get in with the tractors and there's not much to do there. When the cotton picking starts in September, we'll work our butts off.

The Dairy. Eve since I arrived on this kibbutz, I've stayed well away from the dairy just in case I opened my big mouth and asked an intelligent question or two. Despite that, one or two people seem to have found out that I know something about it. I've been approached from time to time to work there, but I've refused point blank. Anyway, Jonathan, now a volunteer, starts work in the dairy tomorrow. He was very apprehensive because of my constant refusal to have anything to do with cows, so I took him down there tonight to watch the evening milking, to expalin to him what was happening and put his mind to rest. Suddenly I realized that at home I didn't do much of the physical work - it was the responsibility that gave me the headaches - while here I'd do my hours of physical work without the responsibility. Now that I've seen it, I admit that I don't mind those few weeks.

Tonight, however, when the dairy manager asked me to work there permanently, I didn't hesitate to deline. Calving season starts in September - in the winter rain! No, thank you!

Meanwhile, I must tell you that ever since the Ulpan ended, the ladies in the kitchen have been baking Shabbat cakes for me every week and really looking after me. They try to stuff ice creams and all sorts of goodies down my throat all day. They are really very sweet, but I'll be as fat as a pig before long if I'm not careful.

Monday 25th July, 1983.

Well, the Ulpan is well and truly over now - it's down to straight hard work six days a week. Now I'll find out what kibbutz life on a permanent basis is all about. This is where my lack of Hebrew becomes painfully evident. I'll have to really work at it now. I won't be hearing much more English in the work situation.

I'll be in a department called "Economia", which is the food depot, for the next two weeks. It's a real "sweat" job, off-loading trucks, cleaning massive fridges .... Thereafter, I'll be working in the cotton fields permanently. That is hard work with long hours, but it is outside work, which I love.

I'm not sure whether I told you this yet, but I'll be staying in my Ulpan room for a week or two, then moving to a small room near the swimming pool for a month or so. Thereafter my permanent apartment will be available. It's fine - all the accommodation is decent; I'm more interested in the work situation than where I'll live.

I guess I never explained about the "Work Sheets". What happened on the Ulpan was that our work schedules changed daily. As you know, one day we worked for six hours and studied for three; the next day we'd study for five hours and work for three. there were two classes, "Alef" and "Bet". When Alef worked, Bet studied - and vice-versa. Each day there were certain jobs that had to be done - some lousy, like washing pots, working at the dishwashing machine, cleaning the Ulpan, etc. Other jobs were better, like cleaning up in the dining room working in the kitchen and working in the garden. Then there were the good jobs (as far as some of us were concerned) like working in the fields or the banana plantations. (I suppose the girls and some of the blokes preferred the kitchen/dining room jobs....)

Anyway, because not all jobs were nice - and some downright grim - and because people differ, these jobs had to be rotated fairly. Because of personal likes and dislikes, personality clashes, etc., the job of allocating the work was a thankless one.

The job of Sadran Avoda (Worksheet manager) for the Ulpan should, theoretically, also be rotated because it's over and above our normal work and had to be done every evening after supper.

There's a Sadran Avoda for the Ulpan, one for the Volunteers, one for the kitchen staff and one for the children's houses, apart from the other work. All these people sit around a table after supper with the Sadran Avoda who is in charge of the whole kibbutz and all the members' work sheets. Under his supervision the shouting match begins.

Each department wants more people than we have available. Each department has its own favourites, for whom they ask by name (and as often as not, can't have). Each department believes that it has priority over the other departments. And each department shouts loud and clear, continuously, all at the same time. At the same time, one has to remember who is sick that day, who has to be somewhere else, who has done a particular job too often and who hates - or doesn't function well in - a particular job.

Jonathan was the first (on the Ulpan) to be saddled with this task. Within a week he had to go to a conference and I took over while he was away. Well, he did the job so well at first - (it seems his officer training came out) - that they decided to let him keep it. Because of the pressure on one person, I used to take over from time to time. Later, thankfully, he trained someone else - a friend - to do it and for the last two months they alternated and I only stood in occassionally.

The members do have permanent jobs, yes. Every so often, though, they have to take their turn at pot-washing, dishwashing, dining room duties, and so on, so the Sadran Avoda has his hands full. But generally, yes, the members have permanent jobs, like I'll have in the cotton fields.

We had another wedding on the kibbutz tonight. The ceremony - or, rather, the reception - was held at the swimming pool. There was a large floating stage (red-carpeted) on the pool with lots of bouquets of flowers on polystyrene blocks floating on the water. It was too beautiful! (The pool is surrounded by date palms and lawns, with the mountains in the background.)

Of course, the whole kibbutz is there (that's where we had supper tonight) and the dress for the occassion was shorts and shirts. The Master of Ceremonies wore shorts and a T-shirt. The bridegroom wore white slacks and a white open-neck shirt, and the bride wore a very pretty white dress. There was much singing and traditional dancing, etc. You know how I feel about jackets and ties! Well, believe me, you can keep your stiff, competitive, formal receptions that South Africa is so fond of. I share the values these kibbutzniks have when it comes to to this type of thing. And nobody gets drunk. Nobody gets pushed into the pool, either.

You know, come to think of it, I even attended Sarit's funeral in shorts. Most people were there in their work clothes - certainly no ties or jackets - and it was the most moving funeral I've attended. The family (especially the women) didn't try to hide their their sorrow. They wailed. The others - the women cried freely, but softly. The men wore their everyday expressions; they all seemed to be studying the distant horizon - but the odd handkerchief or hand wiping away tears said it all. That day I really learned to love these people. They were so real, so uncomplicatedly caring that day in the open fields under the clear sky. A quiet grave under a big tree in a peaceful plot. Only one headstone for the whole kibbutz. How often, in Israel, these days ..... the quiet acceptance of what must be.

But when they celebrate a wedding - it's a festival for everyone, too - it's in the same uncomplicatedly caring attitude. One of the prettiest parts - to me, anyway - was when a long line of little children all lined up and presented just one flower to the bride. Those little children are so pretty, those little girls' faces so radiant, as they file up to the bride and present their flower, beaming with joy!

I love these people!

Anyway, the preliminaries are over. the Ulpan was like an adjustment period. Now the real kibbutz living begins. I must confess to feeling a little apprehensive.

Shabbat, 16th July, 1983.

This is the final week of the Ulpan, and still the Absorption Committee hasn't had their meeting to decide whether or not to accept me as a "Guest". They should have had the meeting last Wednesday, but now it's scheduled for Sunday night. But this being Israel, I guess it's not late. Still, I'm not worried. It's pretty much a cut and dried affair as far as the members who've spoken to me are concerned. They all seem to know about it and when I say "but I haven't been accepted yet," they shrug and say "So what's the problem? There's no problem ....".

The latest news regarding Jonathan is that he's decided to stay at Degania Bet as a Volunteer - they closed the Volunteer pub on Alef! But first he's going to Eilat for a week, then to Greece for a week.

It's up at 3:15 again tomorrow morning - moving irrigation pipes in the field crops - so I'll be getting to bed shortly. It's still as hot as hell here, by the way.

Nearly forgot - saw some Zairean dancers here (at Tsemach) this week. I wasn't too impressed. Compared to the Zulus they looked like a bunch of Fairies!

Thursday, 7th July, 1983.

Okay, pull out your map, because I want to tell you about the trip we went on today. Start at Degania and follow the road along the southern shore of the Kinneret, then up northwards, along the eastern shore of the lake, past En Gev. Just south of "Kursi" the road turns off to the right. At that point (in the southern corner of that junction) is where Jesus apparently cast the demons out of a man called Legion into a herd of swine, which then plunged into the sea. Follow that road down to FIK and Afik, turn off onto the small road that leads to MEVO HAMMA.

Mevo Hammah was our first stop. This, by the way, is the point where we started that 18 km walk that I did the first or second week I was in Israel. Anyway, this point is in the southern part of the Golan Heights. From there one can look over the Lake and see Degania, lying peacefully in the valley below. I took a picture of Jonathan and I standing next to one of the Syrian guns deployed there during the '67 War. It really shook us when we looked down over the valley from there - because from there the Syrians could hve wiped out the entire Valley where we live. Standing there, one realizes how vital it is that that Syria should never have control of the Golan Heights again.

From there, back the way we came and further along the eastern shore of the Lake as far as the conjunction between Bet Saida and the Yehudia Forest. There turn right and go to the next junction, near Ein Semsem. Turn right again to Zivan, and there, take the left fork. Soon after turning, you'll see a place on the right, called "Kuneitra." I took a picture of that town - the only significance of which, is that it is in Syria!!

After that, go further north along tht road to a place called "Birkat Ram".All this is still on the Golan Heights, with Mount Hermon not far away. This Birkat Ram is something of an enigma. There is a dam there - approximately 500 metres by 600 metres and 60 metres deep - which isn't fed by any of the rivers around there. They have never found its water source, so we assume that it must be fed by some underground source that we don't know about. We know that it is not reliant on rainfall, because, regardless of the season or rainfall, its water level never changes. It looks as though it's situated in the mouth of a very old volcano. The vegetation around it is beautiful.

From there the road turns left to a place called "Banias". The Banias River is one of the three main tributaries that feed the Jordan River. Banias is beautiful. There is a beautiful waterfall there - the water is ice cold - which reminded me of the fall in the Drakensburg. Banias ws originallycalled "Panias", after the god, Pan. Sickenly enough (in Israel) there's a shrine there to Pan (obviously from Roam/Greek times). When the Turks took Palestine, the name changed because there's no "P" in their alphabet.

Anyway, after a lovely walk around there, we moved on to Tel Dan. (A Tel is a mound - an artificial hill formed by various layers of earth building up over ancient cities and previous civilizations.) The "Dan" is the second river that feeds into the Jordan. We had lunch there and then spent a couple of hours walking along the Dan River to its source, just this side of the Lebanese border. The walk is absolutely breathtaking. It is like a never-ending series of "Faerie Glens", but along an increasingly powerful stream of water, cascading through the forest in beautiful little rapids.

From Tel Dan, follow the road to the junction between Tel Hai and Kiryat Shmona. There we turned right and went to the Lebanese border post just north of Metulla.

We left Metulla at about 5:20 this afternoon and came back straight down along that road (Kiryat Shmona, Metzudat Yesha, Einan, etc.) - and along my beloved western shore of Lake Kinneret, through Tiberius, to get home in time for dinner at about 6:40pm.

In parenthisis, the road distance between Metulla in the north and Eilat, right in the south of Israel on the Gulf of Eilat / Aqaba, is about 490 kilometres.

The place on the Golan Heights that I told you about - where we looked over the Syrian town of Kuneitra - is about 40 kms from Damascus. There's an idea of distances.

Reading "The Source" has one major problem for me. Every couple of pages I want to drop the book, pick up a pen, and write home to you about the places mentioned in the book that I know or have seen. I have to make a conscious effort to relax and read the book!