Chicken Soup and Boerewors

Jerusalem - The Yearn to Return

2011-06-14T09:51:00.000+02:00

My heart aches to go back. 1983 - 1985 was a long time ago. More and more, as each day passes, my yearning to return to Jerusalem grows stronger and stronger. It consumes me.

I'm 60 now - and my teenaged daughter (who has just had her firstborn son)sees the longing in my eyes and knows that I will never be satisfied until I return. She knows that times are hard for us - it's just the two of us and her child - but she has sworn that somehow, someday, she will get me back to Jerusalem. She knows that it is the only place on Earth where I am alive.

Jerusalem - let me live before I die. I yearn for thee like my grandson yearns for his mother's breast.

Shabbat, 20th August, 1983.

2008-10-14T20:41:00.002+02:00

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.

2008-10-12T12:20:00.002+02:00

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.

2008-10-12T11:36:00.001+02:00

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.

2008-06-06T16:53:00.002+02:00

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.

2008-04-19T18:29:00.000+02:00

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.

2008-04-19T16:55:00.000+02:00

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.

2007-12-19T12:37:00.000+02:00

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!

Tuesday, 5th July, 1983.

2007-11-25T08:10:00.000+02:00

The night before last, David, the guy in charge of Absorption, invited me to his apartment to discuss my becoming a "Guest". He asked me a little about my background and so on. Anyway, to cut a long story short, they're enthusiastic about having me here. He told me that he'd made enquiries about me around the kibbutz and received nothing but positive reports.

Tonight he stopped me to tell me that he's already spoken to the Secretary and some others involved in the decision-making, and they do want me. What I have to do now is to go to Tel Aviv next Wednesday, to the "Ichud" (Kibbutz Movement), armed with a letter from this kibbutz to say that they want me. Apparently the Ichud has to handle all the formalities. There's a bit of a problem regarding housing (particularly with the two apartments that were blown up in that gas explosion last week), but they'll organize something. I'm not really worried about that, though. After all, I was prepared to be a Volunteer here and if the worst comes to the worst and I have to stay in Volunteer accommodation for a while, so what? At least my status is improved and I'm on the way to becoming a member IF I want to. I'm not under obligation.

I feel pretty good about all that. It removes some of the pressure of having to do something immediately after the Ulpan.

I've just started to read James Mitchener's book "The Source". It's quite something to read that book here, where I know the countryside around me.

Friday, 1st July, 1983.

2007-11-25T08:06:00.000+02:00

The girl I told you about in yesterday's letter didn't make it through the night. The heat from that gas explosion was unbelievable. She was on fire - her face was burnt and eighty percent of her body. We're going to the funeral at four-thirty this afternoon. You see what these Israelis are made of under these circumstances - the quiet acceptance on the suface, yet the depth of feeling inside.

Thursday, 30th June, 1983.

2007-11-23T13:23:00.000+02:00

There has just been a gas explosion in one of the apartments, about an hour ago. We heard the blast at supper, but none of us thought much about it because we thought it was just another sonic boom from the aircraft. Anyway, the blast burnt down two adjoining apartments. Sadly, the girl whose apartment it was, was in at the time. We know her quite well - Jonathan had a brief affair with her a while ago; nice girl. She's in hospital now, fairly badly burnt. Fortunately, she's the only casualty, but it's a sad business.

On Tuesday night they screened a Neil Simon play called "Only When I Laugh". It was the kind of play I really enjoy - superbly written - the kind I analyse while I'm watching it. I sat through the whole thing. It transported me out of the world I live in and had me completely living in that world of plays and writing. When the movie was over I was in a trance. I didn't realize it until one of the girls rode past me as I was walking back to my room and said: "Mike, who did the work list tonight?" Do you know that I didn't know what the hell she was talking about. It took me a good few seconds to register and say, a little bewildered, "Jonathan." During the rest of the walk back, I was acutely aware of my surroundings and the vast contrast to the other world.

I think I mentioned in my last letter that Lazar approached me about the possibility of staying on this kibbutz. When I said that I'd been considering it, he said he'd mention it to the guy in charge of "klitah", absorption. But the funny part was Lazar's advice to me.

"You know, Mike, you really should think about getting married," he said gravely. I started to laugh. He threw his hands up, still absolutely grave. "I know, I know," he said, "but you know it's very difficult on kibbutz for a single guy your age. Socially. And this kibbutz is very family orientated."

"Okay, Lay," I said, "you've convinced me."

"Good," he said. "Is there anyone on the Ulpan you fancy? Or who fancies you?"

"Leave me alone!" I said. "All in good time!"

"Okay, okay," says Lay, "I just thought I'd mention it." As you know, he's not the first. These people are obsessed with it.

Anyway, a few days later, the head of the absorption committee stops me at breakfast. "Mike," he says, "what's your surname?"

"Kaplan," I replied.

"Ah, yes," he says, "a Cohen. You can't marry a divorcee."

I nearly blew up! Then, before I said anything, a little guardian angel tapped me on the shoulder and showed me a mental vision of some of the divorcees on the kibbutz. "That's right," I said gravely. "That's absolutely right!"

"Anyway," he said, "my informants tell me you may be interested in settling here. Could we get together sometime?"

I agreed and we left it at that for the time being. We'll probably get together in the next few days. It may be better to stay on here as a "guest" instead of a volunteer. We'll see.

2007-09-26T10:30:00.001+02:00

Monday, 27th June, 1983

2007-08-15T17:35:00.000+02:00

"Zefat," they said. "Zefat. It's so beautiful up there, Mike. Even you would like it. There's such an atmosphere of ...peace! It's not like other towns. The strange blending of the ancient mysticism and the modern ..... and so high up in the mountains; the peace actually whispers to you. And there's an artists' colony there. Oh, you MUST go! We kept thinking of how you'd love it!"

That was a couple from the Ulpan, months ago. So today, feeling a little guilty for sitting around the kibbutz on our last weekend off before the end of the Ulpan, I decided to take a day trip to Zefat.

Zefat (or SAFED, commonly in English; or Sfat). The highest town in Israel (2790 feet). From the 16th Century, when the Sephardic Jews came from Spain during the Inquisition, it became the seat of learning, when those Jews started studying the mysticism of the Cabal. "Zefat," the postcards say, "famous for its synagogues and romantic lanes."

Zefat is a dump. The romantic lanes are a broken down batch of alleyways with tacky, neglected buildings and a bunch of robbers they call shopkeepers. Amid all this peace is a modern, well-known psychiatric hospital - which boasts a patient from our kibbutz; the girl I wrote about. And synagogues galore. The most wonderful thing about the place was the wonderful mountain air. THAT really did feel good. Very good. But Zefat, for all its reputation, is a dump. Anyway, I did enjoy the outing.

Travelling around Israel, incidentally, is a piece of cake. The bus service is pretty good. Zefat, for example, is only an hour from Tiberius, and Jerusalem is two and a half hours from Degania. I'm a little sorry that I didn't go to Jerusalem instead today, even if I could only have spent a few hours there. That city is the one city in Israel that I'll never get tired of. Which reminds me: in Zefat I walked into a shop to get some new pins for my watchstrap. I looked disinterested in the negotiation, totally contemptuous of the price he asked, and the guy looked at me and said "So which kibbutz are you from?"

Anyway, it's back to work tomorrow. Watermelons are finished for a few weeks until the next batch ripens, so it's back to inside jobs for a while.

Later, 18th June, 1983

2007-08-14T15:14:00.000+02:00

In reply to your question about kibbutzim:

A kibbutz is a Co-operative, where every member is equal and "has an equal share", regardless of length of stay. No land is really privately owned in Israel. The money to buy land in Palestine for the Jews came largely from Jewish sponsorship in the Diaspora. Land is leased on a 99-year leasehold. Land for the kibbutzim is allocated to the kibbutzim by the government according to this system.

When a kibbutz starts up, the government will give it land and support for the first five years or so, until it becomes an economically viable unit. They reckon that for agriculture you need about 45 to 60 Dunams of land per family. (A dunam is a quarter acre.) Where the land is insufficient (which is most cases), they might set up a factory, or some other industry, to supplement the income. For example, Degania Bet has about 3500 dunams of land, which is less than the required amount per capita to support it on agriculture alone, so we have two famous factories as well, Degania Sprayers and a diamond cutting tools factory. Another kibbutz may have a plastics factory or a food canning factory, or a guest house, and so on.

When more land becomes available, it is sometimes possible to expand the kibbutz. Some of Degania Bet's fields, for example, are quite far from the actual kibbutz.

The kibbutz is not a government concern, but is run and managed - or mismanaged - by the kibbutzniks and the kibbutz movements.

There are two kibbutz movements, with differing philosophies about certain details, and all kibbutzim belong to one or the other. For example, one believes that the children should live in the children's houses all their lives; the other believes that kids should live with their parents until the age of fourteen. (Degania Bet believes the latter.) Believe me, there are a million and one details on which the movements differ, but in Israel this should be expected. (I once heard someone say: "God forbid there should be peace - these Jews would kill each other if the Arabs didn't unite them in a common struggle for survival.")

The financial health of a kibbutz depends on the amount of hard work, know-how and good management that the members put into their kibbutz. That's why candidates for membership are so well screened before being accepted.

There are a few other kibbutzim in the Jordan Valley - Degania Alef, Kibbutz Kinneret, Kibbutz Ma'agan (which has a caravan park), Bet Sera and a few others.

Otherwise, not much news. A bit of chaos, of course, but that's all. One of the American girls on the Ulpan had a 'nervous breakdown' the other night, and they took her away to a psychiatric hospital in Safed early the next morning. Various Ulpan members stood guard outside her room during the night. I, of course, slept through it all. Anyway, last night this girl walked in casually as if nothing had happened. She'd "released herself" from the hospital. There was a mad panic here and nobody really knows what to do. They'll probably take her back to hospital after Shabbat and keep her there until her father comes to fetch her. Meanwhile, I have been spending time with her. The girl's in a bad way. She's seeing spies in every corner, people plotting against her, the whole works. She's paranoid and her thought flow is completely disjointed. It's sad.

Otherwise, as I said, everything's normal. I had an interview with someone from the Kibbutz movement who'll process my requirements and then set up a few meetings with suitable kibbutzim. Meanwhile, loading watermelons is enough of a strain. I'm quite happy to just take it easy after work.

Shabbat, 18th June, 1983

2007-08-10T10:26:00.000+02:00

During this past week the Ulpan had a trip, which I enjoyed thoroughly. We left shortly after 7:30am and got home at about 7:30pm.

From Degania Bet we travelled north through Tiberius, past Migdal. If you look at the Mediterranean Coastline on your map, north of Haifa, north of Nahariya, you'll see a place called "Rosh Hanikra". Draw a mental line from Rosh Hanikra to Migdal (which is on the bulge of the Sea of Galilee). A little more than halfway along that line, near Ma'alot, is a village called "Pekiin". This village, our first stop, is a Druze village (and some Christians), which has some special significance. It's the one place in Israel where the Jews have never been without a presence. Even during the great dispersion of around 70 A.D., some Jews remained there. Today, only two Jewish people are left - an old woman and her daughter (the daughter is in her sixties) who take care of the Synagogue.

From Pekiin, we travelled through Ma'alot to Rosh Hanikra.

Rosh Hanikra, on the Lebanese border, has some of the most beautiful grottos imaginable. One gets to the base of the cliff by cablecar. We had lunch on the beach nearby. After the picnic lunch (and don't kid yourself about the food - it's quite a spread. that's apart from the candy, cookies, ice creams and fruit that we eat all day on the bus!) we went down the coast to Nahariya and then to Akko.

Akko is something else again. The old city walls along the waterfront are more spectacular than Jerusalem's. It's like something straight out of Crusader days - every little boy's dream. We spent a few hours exploring Akko, then came home via Haifa.

To give you an idea of the size of the country in 'visual' terms, find "Pekiin" on your map. South of Pekiin you'll see a town called "Carmiel". Imagine that when you stand on the mountain where Pekiin is, you can see all those towns down to Carmiel around and below you. When the haze isn't too bad, you can see the Mediterranean from there. Unfortunately, I didn't have a film for my camera .....

Back at the ranch, we're still reaping watermelons. The temperatures are getting pretty high now, but the sun's intensity isn't what it is on the S.A. Highveld. While the sweat pours in torrents off me at seven in the morning, the sun doesn't actually hurt my skin. I seemed to be wrong about the humidity here - it's a dry heat with winds off the desert a lot of the time. These days the air conditioner in our room really battles to have any effect - but it's a real blessing.

Shabbat, 11th June, 1983

2007-08-06T12:36:00.000+02:00

The business of looking for a kibbutz is becoming frustrating. It's not inconceivable that I could end up staying on Degania Bet - I believe the members like me here and the chances of acceptance would be pretty good. Still, there's no hurry to decide. I'll keep looking around.

It seems that the difference between kibbutniks and other Israelis is far greater than I'd realized. I really like the kibbutzniks, but one has to be careful not to expect Israelis in general to be like them. (Despite the difficult economic conditions in Israel, I believe that only about 4% of them are kibbutzniks. It takes a special kind of character to be permanently happy there. It's a true socialist community, but the difference is that everyone there CHOOSES that lifestyle, within a larger capitalist environment. Because it's not forced on anyone, it works really well.)

Last night we celebrated the 50th anniversary of the aliyah of the 1933 group (or 'wave') of Polish Jews. How wonderful it was! A lot of singing and dancing (traditional stuff), funny little sketches, stories of the old days by those old people, and so on. It was a wonderful communal atmosphere - a big, big family. Even the little kids were up until well after midnight. I suddenly realized that this kind of thing is an integral part of kibbutz life, unlike in the cities.

Something else I became very aware of recently is the fact that I'm no longer in the "West". I'm in the "Middle-East" now - and it's not just different names.

8th June, 1983

2007-08-03T08:48:00.000+02:00

Today is exactly three months since we arrived in Israel. Hard to believe - it feels like a lifetime.

Beth was here a few days ago, but left for America today. Her Company heard that she'd left the Ulpan and called her back to work.

We started picking watermelons this week. Oy! It's up at 3:15am, start working at 3:45am, work until breakfast at 8:00am and then again until 10:00 - 10:15am. After that it's too hot to do any kind of work. When we study in the morning, we go out to the fields at 4:00 in the afternoon and work till 6:30pm or 7:00pm. Believe me, this is hard work - picking the watermelons and loading them onto trucks or into crates on wagons. Bend, pick, lift, swing, throw.... My shoulders, legs, back, elbows, wrists, all cry out "Stop! Enough!" Afternoon Hebrew classes don't stand a chance - I sit there in a trance, absolutely exhausted. Still, the exercise is good; I haven't been doing much walking since the hot weather started.

I postponed my intended visit to Kibbutz Ma'agan Michael, since I discovered that apart from their Guest House, they have fish ponds and poultry. I don't relish the idea of standing in the sea at 2:00am in the morning in winter, hauling nets; or of catching chickens at 2:00am and stuffing them into crates, five at a time in each hand.

The Syrians, it seems, have decided to behave themselves for the time being. War really looked imminent a few weeks ago, but the tension seems to have passed. They've withdrawn to former positions and everyone is breathing easier.

I saw a great movie here the other night, called "Ragtime". It was the first movie I've sat through on kibbutz. No, I did sit through "Chariots of Fire" as well. They show movies here every Tuesday night and every second Thursday, unless someone on the kibbutz dies during the week. (That's happened twice.) Usually, though, I get bored after half an hour or so and walk out. T.V. is out. The only time I watch anything on TV is if they're showing something like the Eurovision Song Contest. (Israel, by the way, came second this year in that contest.) The movies on kibbutz are usually in English, with Hebrew and French subtitles. Ironically, when I miss what they're saying, I read the French subtitles!

To bed, now. I have to be up at 3:15am again.

Shabbat, 4th June, 1983

2007-07-31T13:40:00.000+02:00

You asked about my Hebrew. Well .... I'm finding it very difficult to use practically. What I know is largely academic. I can put sentences together reasonably on paper (fairly simple sentences, that is), but when it comes to speaking, it's a little different. I know a lot of words, but not as many as I should know, and putting them together is something I can do if I have sufficient time to work it all out. But understanding what other people are saying - well, I don't. For instance, given time, I can compose a question well enough, but when the answer is rattled off, I don't know what I've been told! Also, when Israelis ask me something, I could answer in time, but on the spur of the moment the words just won't come. It'll take a lot of time to manage even broken Hebrew - it's a difficult language and it's not coming naturally to me.

The classes, though, can be funny. If you could read "The Education of Hyman Kaplan" again, you'd know what it's like. I often pause in class and think that it really is like "Hyman Kaplan", and at the time it really isn't funny - doesn't do anything for one's confidence, a thought like that!

This morning Lazar (we usually have breakfast together on Shabbat) told me about a kibbutz that sounds pretty good. I've already forgotten the name, but it's very much like Degania B on a smaller, younger scale. He'll take me to see it around the end of the month.

By the way, I've been experiencing the "Khamsin" first hand, the hot wind. Wow, is it hot!

30th May, 1983

2007-07-30T13:49:00.000+02:00

Unfortunately, with all the dropouts from our class, I haven't been able to do much outside work lately. They've been using the available 'Ulpan-power' for the inside jobs like kitchen and dining room duties. I can handle the dining room (it's preparation and cleaning, not serving - this is self-service), but working in the kitchen kills me. When I walk past a mirror and see myself with a apron, it really rocks me! The women in the kitchen are most amused by my attitude - they keep threatening to take pictures and send them to you. Of course, I keep pretending to be utterly horrified by the thought, and walk away mumbling and shaking my head. It keeps them friendly and happy.

Jonathan has really fallen in love with Kibbutz Ein Gedi. In case I haven't mentioned it, he was training in hotel management in South Africa and his idea has been to live on kibbutz in Israel, but to choose one that has a Guest House, so that he can complete his training. Tourism is a large source of income for Ein Gedi. It'll be great if he can go there.

I'll probably stay on here as a Volunteer for a couple of months after the Ulpan, because the process of settling permanently on a kibbutz is a long one. First one has to be invited to the kibbutz of your choice for a weekend. If that is mutually satisfactory, you're invited back for a couple of weekly periods, where you work on that kibbutz. If everyone is still happy, then only are you invited to stay there as a guest. If that works out, you become a candidate for membership and maintain that status for about a year. Thereafter, if you are satisfactory, you're voted in as a full member. So initially, for those invitation periods, I'll need a base - and volunteering on this kibbutz seems to be the most practical solution.

I have just read today's "Jerusalem Post" and tension on the Syrian border seems to have eased. It seems the Syrians really are pulling out and the conflict may be avoided after all. The reports - and editorial - are quite promising. Well, that's good news.

Lazar War

2007-07-28T10:47:00.000+02:00

I must tell you about Lazar, from our kibbutz, whom I discovered is your niece's cousin. He comes from the Free State, has been in Israel for about fifteen years, and still has a heavy South African accent. I don't know exactly how old he is, but he has a fully-grown teenage daughter that I know of - (we met at the Lake one day) - so he's not a youngster. He works in Tel Aviv during the week (in the transport section of the Kibbutz Movement's Office), so I only see him occassionaly at weekends. But what a delightful character!

One Saturday recently we were sitting at breakfast, swapping yarns, when the subject of war cropped up.

"The '73 War was Hell!" Lazar informs me. "There we were, having just had a big lunch ....."

"LUNCH?" I said, astonished. "On Yom Kippur?!"

"Oh, yes," he groans. "A man can starve to death here on Yom Kippur if he doesn't have lunch. Anyway, there we were, anticipating a good old sleep, when suddenly we hear 'Boom!" A little later another 'Boom!" 'Only the bloody Israelis could have manouvres on Yom Kippur,' I thought. Anyway, I go outside to have a look, and lo and behold, the whole bloody Golan is swarming with Syrian tanks! So, believe me, I panic! Because the week before, a friend and myself had bought a beer-brewing kit and we'd made beer. Now the only place we could think of where the temperature was more-or-less constant, was the Volunteers' bomb-shelter. So I panic, because I think to myself 'there's a bloody war starting and the Volunteers are going to go down to their shelter, where we've just corked two hundred bottles of beer!' Anyway, I spring into action. I fetch my buddy and we manage to save most of the beer. But as we're running with the crates, the corks are popping off left, right and centre. What a bloody mess! I tell you, it was hell!"

"What about the War?" I asked.

"Oh," he says, "they put me in one of these watchtowers with a 1948 tin helmet and a machine gun, but no bullets. There I sat, with an empty machine gun and this ridiculous hat, watching the Syrian tanks buggering around. Then, the guy who had to relieve me, was late. When he did turn up, he came tearing along on a tractor and turned the tractor over. We had our first casualty!"

That's Lazar for you.

War. It's a strange feeling sitting here waiting for a war that we feel is imminent. On Shabbat, when we went to Ein Gedi, there was a steady stream of tanks and armoured vehicles moving north to the Syrian border. A lot of our guys from the kibbutz have been mobilized. Recently, in a newspaper report, Assad of Syria said that he expected to lose twenty thousand men in the next war with Israel. the feeling was that if we signed the proposed treaty with Lebanon, Syria would go to war. We signed the treaty. Every day, we're losing soldiers in Lebanon. Syria had, in fact been building up her troops in the area. Until yesterday, most of us believed that we'd see a war within two months. Anyway, a report in yesterday's paper said that Syria had started withdrawing those troops, saying that they'd completed their manouvres in the area. Whether they actually backed off at Israels's readiness or not, remains to be seen. The general feeling is still one of mental (and physical) preparation for another war.

Although it doesn't affect our day-to-day living on the kibbutz, it's still a strange feeling. But this type of thing is so much a part of the history here that one almost expects it as part of the itinary every so often. Anyway, with a little mazel, maybe it won't happen.

Shabbat, 28th May, 1983

2007-07-27T15:07:00.000+02:00

Well, surprise, surprise - I am writing on Shabbat after all. We didn't go to Ein Gedi for the weekend, but just for the day. I discovered a few days before the weekend that I was broke - for this month. Jonathan found himself in the same 'embarrassed' state. We also discovered that with most of the Ulpan away for the long weekend, the kibbutz was a little short of workers. The result was that we agreed to work on Sunday in return for a day off at a time more convenient to us. Then, yesterday (Friday), we were offered a free lift to Ein Gedi by a family who were going to a barmitzvah there today. Needless to say, we snapped it up.

Kibbutz Ein Gedi is breathtakingly beautiful. Jonathan has absolutely set his heart on it - he won't hear of anything else now. I, however, am not interested in the hotel business. It didn't take me long to figure out that if I settled there I'd be facing a future of turkey-raising, gardening, cleaning hotel rooms or selling deck-chairs to tourists. Not for me. I want an agricultural kibbutz, preferably here in the Jordan Valley.

Having realized fairly early in the day that the kibbutz wasn't for me, I settled for purely enjoying the Dead Sea area - and what a wonderful day it was! We hiked around a little nature reserve they have there and cooled off under a little waterfall they have in the middle of that desert! We ate a picnic lunch we'd taken with us, then spent the afternoon "swimming" in the Dead Sea.

The salt and mineral content of the water is so high that "Swimming" is hardly the word. You can't swim conventionally - your legs shoot right out of the water when you turn onto your stomach. In an upright position, you can't get your shoulders under the water, except to bob. The water virtually keeps you waist-high. It's such fun. I kept thinking of Dad - it's the answer to armchair sport! It's so salty that you DARE not get water in your eyes. I got a few drops - literally - in my mouth and it felt like a mouthful of coarse salt. But what fun! It was a real battle to drag myself away to come home.

But when I saw the Sea of Galilee again .... hey, there's nowhere else like my Lake.

Tuesday, 24th May, 1983

2007-07-27T15:00:00.000+02:00

Yup, you bet your life we wear hats when we work outside! That brown army hat I bought at Safics is drenched when I come in. Dehydration is a factor we have to be constantly conscious of here; we have to keep drinking water when we work outdoors, even if we're not particularly thirsty. The really hot weather hasn't come yet. It gets to be 40 - 45 degrees Celsius in summer.

This letter will replace the one I usually write on Shabbat, because Jonathan and I are going to Ein Gedi for the long weekend. Apparently it's a very difficult kibbutz to get membership on, but we'll find out what the story is when we get there.

Glad to hear that you're watching our news. Yes, Syria is being a bit of a pain in the ass at the moment, but we're prepared for them. We'd like to get out of Lebanon peacefully now, but I guess we half expect some sort of confrontation with Syria - perhaps this summer. But then, we live in a permanent state of "half-expecting" a war - it's a way of life here. It doesn't affect anyone's routine or future plans. Don't worry about it - let the Syrians do the worrying.

Life here is fairly quiet at the moment. Jonathan has settled down to one Israeli girlfriend. I think the poor character is in love, but I tend to mind my own business; at the moment women are more trouble than they're worth.

I had a nice experience today. Generally, the old-timers around here are very wary of the Volunteers and the Ulpanists. Today, at lunch, an old-timer - one of the originals here - walked up to me. "I think'" he said, "it's time you and I made our acquaintance. My name is Shalom. Perhaps we can sit together and talk sometime?" It may seem like a small thing to you, but under the circumstances here, it was a nice gesture of acceptance. He manages the archives - I will definitely take up his offer; the history of the region fascinates me no end.

I haven't done any driving in Israel, but it's time I converted my driver's license. I'll have to go into Tiberius soon and do that small thing. The buses here are so good, though, that one hardly feels the need for a car.

Sharashkas

2007-07-19T18:27:00.000+02:00

Jonathan and I have a wall-hanging in our room, which I thought you might like to read. Here it is:

Sharashkas

You have the right to arrange your own life under
the blue sky and the hot sun, to get drink of water,
to stretch, to travel wherever you like....

What about the main thing in life, all its riddles?
If you want, I'll spell it out for you right now.

Do not pursue what is illusionary - property and position:
all that is gained at the expense of your nerves,
decade after decade, and is confiscated in one fell
night. Live with a steady superiority over life ...
don't be afraid of misfortune, and do not yearn
after happiness: it is, after all, the same: the
bitter doesn't last forever, and the sweet never fills
the cup to overflowing.

It is enough if you don't freeze in the cold and if
thirst and hunger don't claw at your insides. If
your back isn't broken, if your feet can walk, if
both arms can bend, if both eyes can see, if both
ears hear, then whom should you envy? And why?

Our envy of others devours us most of all. Rub
your eyes and purify your heart - and prize
above all else in the world those who love you
and who wish you well. Do not hurt them or
scold them, and never part from any of them in
anger; after all, you simply do not know: it
might be your last act .....

- Alexander Solzhenitsyn.

The above piece was sent to Jonathan by the fiancee of that friend of his who died in action on the border a few weeks ago.

21st May, 1983

2007-07-19T09:10:00.000+02:00

Regarding your remark about the dropouts, perhaps it's a little clearer when one realizes that most of the people on this Ulpan are not making aliyah, but are simply passing through as tourists, trying, I believe, to find their Jewish identity. A large number of them, especially the Americans, expect to find a country full of the Jews that they are used to. Instead, they find a foreign country full of Israelis, surviving in the Middle-East; not an extension of their Jewish neighbourhood back home.

On Wednesday (18th) we celebrated Shavu'ot, the Feast of the Firstfruits. What a lovely holiday it was, too! I wished you were here to see it. In the late afternoon we (on the kibbutz) gathered to a little ceremony where the first harvest from every department was brought out onto a stage in the garden. I really felt happy when the first watermelon was cut. Every department paraded its produce, including the dairy.

There was quite a funny incident with the dairy: a tractor pulled a large wagon in, laiden with bales, about four bales high. On top of the bales was a big heifer calf in a pen. Around the pen sat a contigent of the girls and guys who work in the dairy. This wagon towed a smaller one, laiden with samples of fodder grown here and some milk. At the critical moment, right after the applause, the calf decided to let fly with a huge pee. Two of the girls didn't move fast enough - they couldn't up there - and got a thorough soaking, to the absolute delight of the crowd!
We ended the day by having a picnic supper at the swimming pool.

Next weekend is a long weekend for us. That means that we're off from 10:00am on Friday until Sunday night. Jonathan and I plan to go to Kibbutz Ein Gedi at the Dead Sea. So far (according to various reports) it sounds like our best bet, so we're going to see it and find out what our chances are of becoming candidates there, if we like it. By the way, our Ulpan ends on 26th July.

Although my Hebrew is improving, I'm a long way from speaking it. So far, I'm afraid, what I know is largely academic. Anyway, I find the learning gratifying. The teacher/student relationship is fantastic now.

Shabbat, 14th May, 1983

2007-07-19T09:05:00.000+02:00

Some friend Jonathan turned out to be! I was perfectly happy until a few moments ago, when he painted the most depressing picture for me. We were lying on our beds after lunch, happily chatting away, when he suddenly said: "When you get married one day, will it be in Israel or South Africa?"

I smiled contentedly. "I can't get married in Israel," I replied, feeling perfectly safe. "I'm not a Jew and I'm not going to do the conversion. I'd probably hop over to Greece, if it came to that."

He grinned. "What do you think," he said, "your father would say if he met you at the airport five years from now and you stepped off the 'plane with a wife and a couple of little Israeli kids shouting 'Abba, Abba!' ?"

I couldn't even react except to utter a profanity. 'Abba, Abba' was my first real case of culture shock.

We had a wonderful day in Jerusalem on Thursday when we went to celebrate "Yom Yerushalayim" (Jerusalem Day). Amongst other things, we walked through the water tunnel that King Hezekiah cut in the days when Jerusalem was threatened by a siege from the Assyrians. He constructed - or cut - an underground passage from the Shilo'ach Spring to the city, so that Jerusalem wouldn't be cut off from its water supply. We walked knee-deep in water most of the time, but sometimes it rose to thigh level. It was pich-dark - we each carried a little candle. The tunnel was hardly wider than a large man's shoulders and although the ceiling was fairly high in most places, a lot of the time we had to stoop and watch our heads. It was a fascinating experience. At about four in the afternoon we met up with all the other kibbutz Ulpanim and were entertained to singing and dancing for a couple of hours.

Jerusalem remains the most fascinating place on Earth. As a matter of interest, I understand that there are no buildings (usable, that is) in Jerusalem that date back further than the Crimean War (1850's). The City has been completely rebuilt since then, but it retains its atmosphere of antiquity largely because of a law that all buildings in Jerusalem have to be built from - or at least the facades made of - Jerusalem stone. Because of this, and the architecture, the city really does have a feeling about it of timelessness.

Things are pretty routine on the kibbutz at the moment. Unfortunately, with all the dropouts from our class, there's been more inside work lately and less in the fields. By the end of the month when the watermelons are ripe we'll be in the fields virtually all the time, so it's not too bad.

Author's Comment

2007-07-13T12:50:00.000+02:00

Perhaps I should explain, at this point, that although I'm half-Jewish from my father's side - therefore not technically a Jew according to Jewish law - my mother was a Christian who believed in observing the Jewish Holy Days and the laws according to Biblical dictates (as opposed to "Jewish" law and tradition.) Although not baptized yet, I subscribed to her beliefs and was deeply committed to (Saturday) Sabbath-keeping and the High Days. A committed Christian in terms of religious conviction, I couldn't - wouldn't - convert to Judaism; but I loved the freedom, in Israel, of being able to practice the Jewish part of these observances without feeling like a freak. Although my friends, the kibbutz authorities and the Jewish Agency all knew about this - and under the Law of the Return, my half-portion was enough - people generally were not always aware of this. They saw me as a religious Jew because of my obsession with Sabbath-keeping - and the big, bushy, black beard I sported confirmed that image. (The beard had nothing to do with religion - I just liked having a beard!)

Those who were aware of my beliefs, didn't care. I loved their land, their customs and their people. I wanted to live amongst them. That was enough for them. (Perhaps they thought, or hoped, that I would be converted back to Judaism in time - I don't know.)

Of course, I could never have joined a religious kibbutz. However, many Jews in Israel, particularly on the non-religious kibbutzim, were national Jews rather than religious Jews. In the Diaspora, Jews tend to hold onto the religious aspects in order to maintain their Jewish identity. In Israel, they don't have to do that. The traditions and holidays are national. The Bible is their history book, their geography book, their poetry book, their pride and joy EVEN if they do not have strong religious convictions. Therefore, if they don't believe, they don't pretend to, simply in order to maintain their identity.

In Israel (in my time) there were no "Liberal" or "Reformed" synagogues. There were the Religious, Ultra-Religious, the Hassidim - and perhaps others that I wasn't aware of. You were Religious or you were not. Nothing watered down. If you were religious, you subscribed to the entire religious code. If you didn't subscribe to it, you were simply seen as "not religious". It seemed to me that there were many Jews who would have liked to be religious in their way, but felt that much of the Religious law or traditions were hypocrital or superfluous and were thus relegated to the ranks of the non-religious. In some way, therefore, I think that some of them found it intriguing that I picked the parts I was passionate about, while discarding what I considered superfluous, yet considered myself religious.

And, though I am a Christian, I proudly consider myself a Jew, despite any Jewish law differing! In Israel, I can be - nationally.

11th May, 1983

2007-07-13T12:42:00.000+02:00

In reply to your question about the class/teacher conflict, all is well. I arranged a meeting with our class, told them what I thought of their general attitude and behaviour - very quietly, of course - and then opened the floor to a discussion on what they thought was necessary for co-operation. I let everyone talk until they had talked themselves into a corner. Once they realized where the fault lay - or at least were prepared to accept that a great deal of the blame for our troubles lay with us - I asked them to nominate two representatives to meet with our teacher at a private meeting. Two of us were nominated and we met with the teacher the following night, where we thrashed out our problems from both sides and cleared the way for co-operation. There were some isolated incidents of misbehaviour subsequently, but it didn't affect the peace much. The culprits knew that they stood alone and that the teacher had the backing of the majority. Fortunately, at this stage, those assholes have all left. One by one they found themselves pushed out. We have a smaller but happier class now.

Yes, Jonathan is still here. (The third party in our room dropped out, so it's just the two of us now.) He provides plenty of entertainment with his girlfriend antics. At the moment he has a South African girlfriend, an Israeli girlfriend, but his heart's delight is a different Israeli girl. He spends his time trying to stop one from finding out about the other, but in the small community of kibbutz, there's not much chance of success. It provides me with plenty of entertainment now, but it made me mad when Beth was still here. Because he and I are known to be close friends, these girls, and others, used to pal up to Beth to try to find out what Jon was up to. She, bless her American heart, was so gullible that she'd get taken in every time.

These guys put me in the metal workshop the other day. They should have known better. There I was, in my leather apron and ear-muffs, cutting hundreds of pieces of brass tubing for the planting machines (for fertilizer, I think). I did a perfect job - until we discovered, at the end, that I'd cut them all a millimeter too short. I wasn't offered a permanent job there. In fact, the next day, yesterday, I was on the dishwashing machine!

For seven hundred people, it's quite a machine. It takes us four hours to get through the dishes after supper. (Although a lot of the dishes we wash at night are those that were used by the men in the fields during the day. And, of course, we have to clean the machine afterwards, as well as wash the floors. The Israelis are great floor washers.

Car prices here are totally absurd. Your Cortina would be a luxury and the Beetle in high demand. A used car which would be worth about R1000.00 in South Africa goes for about $5000.00 here. With the take-home pay that Israelis get, it's beyond economics to know how they manage to buy televisions, never mind cars. They're all over their heads in debt. From what I can see, the only thing that keeps this country going is the funds received from the Diaspora, particularly American Jewry. I'm so glad that I don't have to worry about money here on kibbutz. It's wonderful to not have financial stress. One can focus on life and relationships instead.

I'm glad that I came on a temporary resident's permit rather than with a return ticket, because I find that a lot of the little problems that other people find aggravating, I tend to let pass. If I was trying to decide whether or not to stay here, I think I'd be a lot more sensitive to little things that aren't worth worrying about. Instead of being on the fence, trying to decide whether to make aliyah or not, I actually feel jealously protective of our way of life.

I'll have to stop here. It's 5:45pm, dinner's at six-thirty and I still have to shower. I'm going over to a kibbutznik's place for drinks after supper.

Shabbat, 7th May, 1983

2007-07-11T09:48:00.000+02:00

I've started making enquiries about the various kibbutzim with a view to settling on one after the Ulpan. I'm pretty sure that I won't want to settle on this one, one of the reasons being that that they'll only pay my airfare home once in five years, and then it's only my fare, not my wife's and children's. I believe - I'm not at all sure, but I believe - that there are kibbutzim that are prepared to pay for my whole family's airfare every two or three years. This scheme is, of course, only for people who have parents overseas; it's not a general overseas holiday scheme. If I can't find such a scheme, I understand that I shouldn't complain. I didn't come to Israel expecting that perk, but if such a facility is available, I intend to make use of it.

I have a couple of places in mind that may be suitable, but I have yet to see them. (Incidentally, I'm going to send you a decent map of Israel in the next day or two, so that you can follow my movements - and also so that you can have a better idea of where some of the smaller places I visit are in relation to the larger towns.)

At the moment I'm still collecting information about the kibbutzim, but around the beginning of June someone from the Kibbutz Movement's office will be visiting us for a chat. After that I'll start visiting the ones that I'm interested in and talking to their secretaries.

Things are pretty routine at the moment. The dropouts continue and our members have droped from 42 to 30. I think it's levelled off there for the time being.

Beth phoned from Jerusalem yesterday to say hello. She seems happy enough, but she wants to drop in to visit me this week - perhaps tomorrow - so I'll hear more about her plans then.

On Shabbat eve here, there are two sittings for dinner; an early one for families with children and a later one for the rest. Last night there was beef for supper, the first I've had here, so I ate with my kibbutz family at the first sitting and went back with my friends for the second. Unfortunately the kibbutz secretary, the Ulpan manager and some of the older members who know me were still in the dining hall when I went back for the second time. Every one of them saw me and wished me a sarcastic (albeit good-natured) "Shabbat Shalom" again. I was most embarrased, but that didn't stop me from eating again. Ah, well, it was back to cottage cheese and salads tonight.

Wednesday, 4th May, 1983

2007-07-11T09:41:00.000+02:00

Beth left yesterday and the temperature is in the low thirties.

Beth decided that kibbutz life wasn't for her and never will be. As she has leave from her job in New York until the end of July, she decided that to stick around here until then would be a waste of time. If ever she decides to make aliyah, it would be to live in the cities, so her time would be more productively spent travelling around Israel. She could always go to a city Ulpan if and when she makes aliyah. Although it's left a bit of a gap, I'm very glad that it happened now. It could never have worked out and we parted company while all was well.

It seems to have given me roots in Israel. We took our leave of each other in a secluded spot on the shore of Lake Kinneret. I had to go to work in the fields and leave her behind to catch a bus to Jerusalem. When I looked back, my last sight of her was of this forlorn little figure sitting on the shore staring out over the Sea of Galilee. Somehow, I feel as if I have an investment in that spot. There's something very personal there. Still, the feeling of freedom overrides any nostalgia.

I told the guy in charge of the fieldwork yesterday that I'd heard all about the super-efficiency of kibbutz agriculture before I came to Israel, but that now I couldn't for the life of me see how it's achieved. (He'd been complaining about the labour distribution, to which I'd fully concurred.) He looked at me sagely. "It's because," he said' "God is Jewish. If God wasn't Jewish, we'd be in trouble!" And that kind of sums it up.

I worked in the kitchen again today. Those women seem to like me - called me a 'real gentleman'; but they can't keep me. I told them I break things. Back to the watermelons tomorrow, thank heavens. We'd better not withdraw from Lebanon just yet - it looks as though we've got a very good crop this year and Egypt isn't buying from us.

The flies are still biting and summer's getting hotter; and Israel's getting more and more beautiful.

Shabbat 30th April, 1983

2007-07-10T10:15:00.000+02:00

Summer is about to start and the flies bite.

Summer is just beginning and already the days are as hot as mid-summer days in South Africa. By 9:00am this morning I was already drenched in perspiration. Admittedly, the Jordan Valley is hotter than the higher areas like Jerusalem, so it's not fair to compare it to a Highveld summer. Fortunately the sun doesn't affect my skin the way the Highveld sun does. And this, I'm told, is just the beginning. Wait, they say, until the HOT weather starts!

With the onset of the hot weather, the flies and mosquitos have arrived; and these flies, like most Israelis, won't be ignored. The bastards bite. Fortunately our rooms have gauze over the windows and air vents, but some still manage to get in. They, and the extreme heat, make sleeping hard work. We have an air conditioner in our room, but typically the cord doesn't reach the plug, so we don't even know if it works yet. We're trying to get an extension cord, but in Israel these things take time. There is an air conditioner in the mo'adon (common room), so there's relief during the day if one can stand the company.

Regarding the company in the mo'adon, there's no real problem. The people are nice enough. It's just that Jonathan and I are seen - for some or other reason - to be the representatives of authority around here, so we get everybody's problems. I'm getting less and less sympathetic to problems that stem from spoilt children who are along for the ride and unfortunately both of us are getting a little hard. Even Beth had better start walking carefully. As much as we want people to stay in Israel, we want people who pull their weight. By now they should have got over their problem of adaptation. The point is that I need time away from the crowd. The advantage of our position, of course, is that those in authority trust us and tend to respect our opinions. In a community like this, that's worth a lot.

There's a huge wedding on the kibbutz tomorrow. As it's between two people from this kibbutz, we're all invited and I am really looking forward to it. The preparations are a lot of bloody hard work, though!

22nd April, 1983 - Jerusalem

2007-07-10T10:07:00.000+02:00

Jerusalem. Oh, what can I tell you about that unique, wonderful city? Jerusalem surely stands alone on Earth. There's an atmosphere, a feeling, there that I have never felt in any other city in the world. Tel Aviv is just another city - with an Israeli flavour, as all cities have their own flavours -but Jerusalem is a city in parenthesis. As far as I'm concerned, I felt as though I'd found the central point of Earth.

The seminar itself was very interesting. We discussed topics that are important to settling in Israel; things like Israeli law (or lack of, in terms of constitution), the Israeli social structure, the Jewish identity, etc. We also visited the holocaust museum, Yad Vashem, and were taken on a bus tour of Jerusalem.

Needless to say, our little trio arrived late (we missed the first bus from Degania) and ended our stay by missing the last bus home from Jerusalem yesterday. At least, Beth and I did. We'd lost Jerry somewhere in the Old City when he met up with an old French rabbi and went to the Wailing wall. The seminar ended at midday yesterday, so Beth and I wandered around Jerusalem getting the feel of the place. When we missed the last bus, we had to take a bus from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv, a sherut from Tel Aviv to Tiberius and hitch-hike from there to Degania Bet. Still, that wasn't as bad as the previous night when we'd got ourselves lost in the Old City of Jerusalem. We started to think, that night, that we'd entered our limbo - that we were destined to roam the maze of dark alleys aimlessly for the rest of our lives. Anyway, we found our way out eventually, none the worse for our adventures. The Old City is a maze of closed alleys and dead ends, which, at night, are almost totally deserted. It was a lovely three days - we really enjoyed ourselves.

Next week Jonathan goes to that seminar and I'll be stuck with the worksheets. He hasn't even left yet and already I can't wait for him to get back. What a thankless job that is. I wish they'd entrust it to someone else.

I've hardly watched any television here. Generally it's not worth watching. I do try to watch the news at 10:00pm on Jordan television, which has an English service at that time. On the subject of news, I hear that there's a Syrian military build-up taking place at the moment. I've no doubt that you get snatches of that in your news bulletins and probably know more about it than I do. Whatever happens, don't worry. There must be forty bomb-shelters on this kibbutz, the nearest one to us being right outside our bedroom door. Our shelter is already well-stocked with beer and ready for any emergency. I'm serious, though. Don't panic about any military build-ups. We don't.

I discovered something interesting on this seminar. Aliyah to Israel has dropped off to about ten and a half thousand immigrants a year. Emigration from Israel is 30 to 40 thousand a year. The birthrate of Ashkenazi Jews is about 2,1 per family and Sephardic Jews about 3,4 while the Palestinian birthrate is something like 8,6 per family. Already the population increase among Arabs is causing concern among Israeli Jews, because they're afraid that in a generation or two the Arab population will have caught up with that of the Jews and Israel will find herself in the situation of a minority governing a majority. (This is aprospros of the immigration/emigration figures.) That's one of the reasons why there is so much opposition in Israel to Begin's policy of establishing settlements on the West Bank and any newly-acquired Arab territories. For every new territory they settle in, they inherit so many more Arabs to compound that issue.

Now you know why the Zionist Federations are so desperate to encourage aliyah. They don't seem to understand, though, that there is a link between life in Israel and emigration; that there are valid reasons for so many people leaving Israel. They seem to think that Jews owe it to Israel to live here, regardless of whether they make living conditions acceptable or not. Here I'm referring to plain inefficiency in all matters of administration and daily living in the cities. Their bungling inefficiency in day-to-day affairs makes daily living in the cities a hazardous affair. Small problems are impossible to sort out. Large problems they can handle. So, small problems have to grow into large problems (which happens with remarkably little problem), which can then be sorted out in such a way that there are so many problems that you can't remember what the problem was. It's a problem. Fortunately, on kibbutz I don't have much to do with all that. Life here is fairly simple, apart from gossip and garlic. Those two ingredients I could live without - particularly when I have to peel the garlic.

My Hebrew isn't improving, but my English sure is deteriorating!

16th April, 1983

2007-07-09T08:58:00.000+02:00

All is peaceful again on the Home Front - managed to restore peace and co-operation between Hebrew teacher and Class. Another couple of weeks, though, and I think the dropouts will begin.

On Thursday we were taken on a trip to Mount Gilboa and bet She'an. (That's where King Saul and his sons met their death in the war against the Philistines.) The trip was so worthwile. There's a type of tulip that only grows on Mount Gilboa - nowhere else at all - and we were lucky enough to see some of them. The countryside at the moment is a carpet of red, yellow, white, pink and mauve flowers - it's too beautiful for words. There's something different about the beauty of Israel - something that brings a lump to my throat merely looking at the countryside. On a trip like that, I spend a lot of time swallowing.

We were given our Kibbutz Parents this last week. The idea, I believe, is for them to provide a family atmosphere and help us to settle down here. My family is a particularly nice one. They're ex-Bostonians who have been in Israel for 15 years - thirteen and a half on Moshav and year and a half on this kibbutz. Their eldest son of 17 sleeps in the school dormitory, but their daughter of 15 and two younger sons live at home. Fortunately for me they all speak English, although the children speak Hebrew to their parents.

The 18th is Independence Day in Israel and great festivities are planned on the kibbutz. I'm only too happy to have another public holiday and to sleep late. Tuesday, the 19th, Wednesday and Thursday I'll be in Jerusalem to attend a seminar for New Olim (Immigrants). I think the idea is to give us lectures on Israeli laws, the way of life and some ideas of what is available to us after Ulpan. It will be my first trip to Jerusalem, so I'm really looking forward to it. Only three of us go at a time - that is three from each Ulpan - so Beth and I are going with a Californian called Jerry.

Although I'm doing a lot of physical work, I haven't really lost any weight, because, although the food tends to be dreary, there's a lot of it. I seem to consume cookies and coffee, cheese and fruit all day long! Add to this the lack of stress and I guess it's not surprising.

9th April, 1983

2007-07-09T08:45:00.000+02:00

Things are getting interesting here. People in the Ulpan are starting to crack. We were warned before we started that the dropout rate is very high and that less than half actually finish the Ulpan. Well, although nobody has dropped out yet, they're beginning to crack. Relationships are getting strained, true colours are coming out, moans are becoming increasingly vociferous. Fortunately I get along well with everyone, so I'm not involved in the gossip. Unfortunately, this makes me the one everyone runs to when there are problems. There was an incident yesterday, which caused some surprise.

It all started early in the morning when the strained relationship between our Hebrew teacher and the class exploded. It's generally felt here that she is not a good teacher. The class, however, hasn't been playing the game either. Yesterday, when a lot of people turned up late for class, she burst a gut and told us what she thought of us generally. As it happened, I thought her complaints were justified. The class, however, also have justifiable complaints. During one of the breaks, I was called in by the woman in charge of the Ulpan. Someone from our class was in her office - apparently one of a long line of complainants - demanding a new teacher. They wanted my opinion. I was totally unprepared, so I gave it some silent thought before responding. Then - knowing that the teacher wasn't popular with the Ulpan head either - I proceeded to give the class a tongue-lashing for their immaturity and lack of self-discipline, and defended the teacher. I figured that she had enough stacked against her. I was afraid that if I didn't defend her totally and committedly, there'd be a breach of justice.

At first there was surprise to the intensity of my defence, but I could see later that people were glad I did it. News travels so fast that ten minutes after class had ended, a kibbutznik woman came to me and thanked me for what I'd done for her friend. I was quite flabbergasted. I realise that this little crisis isn't over yet. I also realise that I'm in the thick of it. Meanwhile, I'm working on the class's attitude and trying to engineer a greater degree of co-operation.

The wonderful part of all this, to me, is that I feel that I'm involved because I feel that it is MY community, MY responsibilty and MY people that I'm dealing with. It's a good feeling.

Otherwise all is well. I love the physical work, enjoy the lessons and I enjoy being finished for the day by 3:00pm when there's still so much of the day left to enjoy at leisure. Even the weather is perfect.

6th April, 1983

2007-07-09T08:42:00.000+02:00

The other day a group of us were lying on the grass outside our rooms, soaking up the sun, when somebody said to me: "What do you miss the most? If I gave you three wishes, what would they be?"

"One," I said, "is a Lion Lager. They don't know what beer is here. Two, is a big, juicy steak." I surveyed the audience and noted that most were Americans. I couldn't resist. "And three," I said, "is a piccanin to help me with my work."

The Americans were outraged, but an Aussie had the last laugh. He looked at my lily-white legs and said: "I suppose in South Africa you got a piccanin to do your tanning for you as well!" Touche.

Before lunch I was about to complain (to myself only!) about the monotony of the food here - then they served chocolate mousse! Did I enjoy that! Generally it is pretty monotonous, though. The chickens here are tasteless - I believe they raise them in about seven weeks - and red meat is for special occassions only.

This week we started getting up for work an hour earlier. I get up at 4:15am now, whenever we work first. When we study first it's a real treat - I can sleep in until 6:15!

This morning, working with a hoe in the watermelon fields, I stopped to look around me. The field was surrounded by mountains, banana trees, date palms and Lake Kinneret. I couldn't believe that in 1910 this was all maleria-infested swampland. It is so beautiful!

Fortunately I get to work outdoors now, mainly in the fields (by request of the foreman), except for my occassional compulsory kitchen duties. I wish you could see how much good this life does me. Perhaps you will. Once I become a permanent member, in a couple of years, I believe that I'll be entitled to an overseas holiday every year to visit family. Wouldn't that be wonderful?

Monday, 28th March, 1983

2007-07-07T11:19:00.000+02:00

Monday, 28th March, 1983. 11:15am

I'd hardly sat down to continue this letter when the woman in charge of the Ulpan walked into our room with a little tray of dates and a bottle of wine, and a card saying "Chag Sameach" (Happy Holiday). It was very sweet of her. Tonight is Seder-Pesach and there's great excitement. Work for us in the Ulpan stopped at ten this morning. Instead of giving us the monthly long weekend, they decided to give us a few days leave over Passover. We start again on Thursday morning. As a result, about half the Ulpanists have already left to spend Passover with relatives or friends elsewhere. Beth and I decided to stay here and do a couple of day trips from here.

What more can I tell you about the Kibbutz? The balance between work, study and free time is perfect. During the Ulpan, the social life is also perfect. There are enough Ulpanists (42) to make for plenty of company, and yet to be private enough without being missed. So far we all get along well with each other. What the social life on the kibbutz will be like without the Ulpan is difficult to imagine, because I haven't really been involved in the kibbutziks' inner social circle. After Pesach, I believe, we'll be given "Kibbutz Families" and I guess I'll see more of that side.

When we work in the fields or plantations, we go to work on wagons. The clothes we wear are not unlike those of many farm-workers in S.A. - gumboots or clapped out leather boots, pants with a week's worth of mud on them and jackets that are held together by the odd thread. I can't tell you what a thrill I get working in the fields with my hands deep in the soil. I love this horrible clay-type soil, I love every seed I plant.

Tuesday, 29th March, 1983

It seems impossible to get a letter finished in this place!

I forgot to mention earlier that one of our main sources of income is from the kibbutz factory, where they manufacture diamond cutting tools.

Last night was the Seder. A crowd of about a thousand people tends to turn an intimate occassion into a bit of a farce. I guess it's just not what I'm used to. Anyway, today at 4:30pm we cut the first sheaves of the wheat harvest - the omer, which is God's - and from when we count the fifty days to Shavu'ot (Pentecost). These are, obviously, cut by hand. The rest will come under the combine.

Jonathan had bad news from home last week. His best friend was killed on the border in South West Africa. He was very cut up about it. On Shabbat eve ten of us (men) got together in the mo'adon (common room) and held prayers for his friend. It seemed to do Jonathan some good. The guy who led the Kaddish was the father of one of the Ulpan girls, who happened to be on a visit from France.

Thursday, 31st March

I was persuaded to go to Haifa with Beth and some others on Tuesday afternoon. We slept there that night and came back on Wednesday night. The country we travelled through was really very beautiful - compared to anywhere in the world; but Haifa, to me, was an ordeal. When I smelled the city and heard the noise, I'm afraid I became a bad companion. Was I pleased to get back to the kibbutz!

If I'm ever going to get this letter posted, I'd better do it now. Wish you could see and feel this country.

P.S. In case I never mentioned it, Beth is a girl from New York with whom I have a cozy relationship at the moment. Ironic. I told Jonathan at the beginning of our stay here that one thing I didn't need at this stage was any such involvement. He agreed - and has his own romantic problems already. What can one do? We grin and bear it.

Sunday, 27th March, 1983

2007-07-06T11:31:00.000+02:00

This is a follow-up letter from the aerogram, where I ran out of space!

I'll try to sketch a picture for you briefly. The kibbutz isn't exactly the mental picture one would have of the optimum-efficiency, model-type agricultural settlement. I've mentioned before that there's far too much mud for my liking, particularly when I see the cattle wallowing in it. The buildings aren't picturesque or particularly well-kept visually, but they're sufficient and functional. The farming equipment is a mess. I haven't seen a clean tractor or piece of machinery. The Israelis do a job and they don't particularly give a damn what it looks like. (The air-conditioned tractors are a rarity that one only sees occassionally. For the most part, the equipment is similar to what you use.)

The kibbutz isn't particularly pretty, but the Jordan Valley is. The whole Jordan Valley and Lake Kinneret area is as beautiful as one imagines it to be. The days are like your summer days, although the nights, until two nights ago, have been cold. I'm told that this Jordan Valley is the hottest place in Israel in the summer, with very high humidity.

The rainfall has been particularly good this winter and the country is green and lush. The crops are pretty good. Visually, the area around here is wonderful, but a lot of the charm is in the thousands of years of history, which seems to permeate the place. The peace one feels looking out over the Lake (the Sea of Galilee) is too wonderful for words. Back to the kibbutz.

The main crops here are bananas, dates, avocados, grapefruit and olives. The field crops are mainly cattle fodder like lucern, but we also have a large watermelon crop coming up. The dairy I have smelled, but otherwise kept well away from. We sell all the milk and buy for home consumption, as milk is subsidised. All the crops are under irrigation - some spray irrigation, for the fodder crops, but trickle irrigation in the orchards and plantations.

Kibbutz life is generally what we expected it to be. There is something different, though, something that is difficult to put a finger on. Perhaps it's the people, all dressed in identical blue, going about their work looking like so many Market Gardeners. Very simple and basic. It makes me feel comfortable with them - but somehow I can't picture you two peddling around here on clapped-out bicycles muttering uncertain "Boker Tov's" (Good Mornings) to passers by. I see people of sixty five-plus plodding away at their jobs of carting empty cardboard boxes around on little wagons, or women in the kitchen, and somehow I can't picture you spending your retirement like that. It's stupid of me, of course, because if I can be as happy as I am here, there's no reason why you shouldn't be.

Visitor - will continue later.

26th March, 1983

2007-07-06T11:26:00.000+02:00

It feels as if I've been here for months already. I was wondering how long it takes for mail to travel between our two countries - wondering whether you'd received any of my letters yet - and realized with a shock that I've hardly been here long enough to get a return of mail from you. The funny part is that I don't really feel the distance yet, but I know that when I receive your first letter, the realization will strike home. Although I miss you a lot, I have to confess that I feel a real and integral part of this country already.

Today, Shabbat, Beth and I decided to get away from the kibbutz for a while, so we started walking, picking a route at random. We ended up at a place called Yavneel, in the mountains. The round trip was a little over twenty kilometers. Must tell you, I've never been so well in my life!

Sunday 27th, 3:00pm

I was interrupted last night and never got back to the letter.

This morning I worked in the fields, planting watermelons. I felt yesterday's walk a little, but at least there's no stiffness.

I have just received your letter of the 13th March. Glad to hear about Wendy's promotion. I can identify with little Linda's learning to speak little sentences - I'm at about the same stage with Hebrew. Actually, I'm not doing too badly with Hebrew classes. Today the Kitah Bet teacher spoke to me about about advancing to the Bet class, but I explained to him that I don't have any more knowledge of the language than the others in my class; it's just that I seem to understand what's being taught a little faster than they do. At the moment I have the confidence at my level and I don't intend to lose it by fighting a losing battle of trying to catch up to the advanced class. I'm only ahead because of the bit of preparation I did at home before I came to Israel.

There's so much to say and already I have run out of space on this aerogram. I'll have to continue in another letter. I've started taking pictures, so hopefully I'll send you some in due course.

20th March, 1983

2007-07-05T13:04:00.000+02:00

For some strange reason my letters always seem hurried. It's not as if we don't have enough free time - there's plenty of that - but I always seem to be doing something. Believe it or not, the earliest I've been to bed since I've been here is eleven thirty; and that was an exception. The normal time is well after midnight, which is crazy when work starts at 5:45 every morning. I should add, though, that it's done me no harm. I've never felt better.

The general pattern of life at the moment is this: Every day we alternate between working and studying in the morning. One day we'll study from 6:45am until midday, then work from 12:30 until 3:00pm. The following day we work from 5:45am until noon, then study from 1:00pm until 3:00pm. On Friday, work or study stops at 2:00pm for Shabbat preparations. Sunday, of course, is a normal working day.

There are 42 of us at the Ulpan; eight South Africans, the rest Americans, Canadians, Australians, French and an Argentinian. There's not one bad egg amongst us - they're a terrific bunch of people and the atmosphere on the Ulpan really is that of a big family. Perhaps a happy summer camp would be a better description.

The Hebrew classes are equally divided into two groups. Kitah Alef (Class A) is for those, like me, who knew no Hebrew at all. Kitah Bet is for those who know some elementary Hebrew. However, because of the preparation I did at home before I came, I find my classes easier than most others in the Kitah Alef class do.

Work is variable. So far I have trimmed trees in the banana plantations, washed pots, gardened, washed floors, worked in the 'press' (the steam rollor-iron in the laundry) and variations of the same things. Some jobs are less pleasant than others, but everyone gets a chance to do everthing, so it all balances out. From three in the afternoons we're free for the rest of the day. Don't ask me what I've been doing with the free time, because I really couldn't tell you - apart from Hebrew homework, that is. Somehow there is always someone to chat to, somewhere to go, something going on.

The funny part is that Jonathan and I had decided on the plane that we were going to keep a low profile in Israel and be just faces in the crowd until we'd sorted out our priorities and studied the whole situation cooly and objectively. Joke. Despite this - or because of it - we keep finding ourselves right at the forefront of the action. Poor old Jon found himself in the glorious position of Sadran Avoda for the Ulpan! It's his job to allocate jobs to people. The bastard went away for three days last week and they hauled me in to take his place. You should know what it's like negotiating with these Israelis over the worksheets every night after dinner. Everyone needs more staff and everyone shouts for their needs at the same time. (They shout even when they're in agreement - and the volume rises from there. Jews don't often agree ...) One night I found that I'd allocated myself a job in the peeling room! I peeled potatoes, garlic and onions the next morning!

Yesterday, on Shabbat, most of us took part in what seems to be a fairly big day in this part of Israel - an eighteen kilometer walk from the Golan Heights to Al Hamah. It's the most beautiful walk - the flowers are just beginning to bloom in the most brilliant reds, yellows and blues. I really enjoyed it. Incidentally, we passed a spot on the way to the Golan heights where the ruins of a church stand, which was built on the spot where Jesus cast out the evil spirits inhabiting a man called 'Legion', which then entered a herd of swine and rushed headlong into the water. Remember the incident? Anyway, I received a medallion for my efforts.

One of the kibbutzniks - a chap who spent time in South Africa - took one of the girls and myself on a guided tour around the kibbutz and the surrounding area yesterday - on a tractor! This Jordan Valley of ours really is a beautiful place.

I've just been interrupted by a kibbutznik who told me that the Israelis are really happy with our Ulpan compared to past groups. On that happy note I'll end for now.

Shabbat, 12th March, 1983

2007-07-04T14:20:00.000+02:00

Am I glad we went to the Drakensberg before my departure! On Thursday afternoon four of us walked to Tiberius to change some money. It is twelve kilometers, but after the 'Berg it was a real picnic - downhill all the way! The real joy was catching a bus back.

It was well worthwhile, though. From Degania to Tiberius we walk along the shore of Lake Kinneret (The Sea of Galilee) all the way. For the first time since I've been here, I really felt the magic of Israel.

Around the corner from the Kibbutz (literally - a matter of a few hundred yards) is the famous Baptismal Site in the Jordan River. (The Jordan runs into the Lake from the north and out again to the west, around the kibbutz.) This place, Israel, is absolutely alive with the past. It is really quite wonderful. The spirit of the past is unique - unlike the feeling one has in, say, Rome, where the history is visible as history. Here it all feels current. Next Shabbat, the 19th, we plan an 18 kilometer walk, which is, I believe, quite spectacular at this time of the year. Spring is nearly here and the flowers on this walk begin to bloom about now. (The mornings and nights are freezing, but the days are like summer.)

This morning a few of us went to the Natural History Museum on Degania Alef, our neighbours. That was really something! Not only did they have relics of the early days on the kibbutz, but a whole section with preserved birds, fish, animals, snakes, and so on, which are found in this area.

Shabbat was terrific. Last night, after a special meal - (the food, although healthy, isn't generally very appetizing, although I'm getting used to salads and cottage cheese for breakfast) - we gathered in the mo'adon (club) and sang traditional Shabbat songs. After that a few of us were invited to a kibbutznik's apartment for coffee. The peace today was really welcome after a hectic week. This afternoon two of us (myself and a girl called Beth from New York) ambled along the banks of the Jordan River and then relaxed in a pretty little cemetery near here. We've only just come in - a few minutes ago.

The work at this stage isn't really representative of what we'll find later, so one cannot form an impression. So far it's mainly garden duty, kitchen duties and so on. I will risk one opinion, though. If Dad could see the general state of the place, he'd have a fit! The cows walk around in mud over the fetlocks, the buildings are generally not well-kept and it is by no means a model farming setup. The equipment is in fairly shoddy condition - functional, but not well kept. Truthfully, I'm not too impressed by the kibbutz from that point of view. I believe, though, from guys here who've seen other kibbutzim, that others are better from that point of view. The people here are terrific, though, and the surroundings beautiful. That little criticism is really a small point in the general picture, but I would like to see other kibbutzim and draw some comparisons before I decide where to settle.

Ulpan classes are chaotic. Thank Heavens I studied some Hebrew before I left. (I've even been able to explain some points to my classmates!)

You know, even though I've been here for nearly a week now, I still feel at a loss to know where to begin to tell you what it's like here. Believe me, despite the huge adjustment one has to make, there's a feeling of real belonging. I'm happy here. Whatever it is that makes this place tick, something in the overall atmosphere is magic.

There's a crowd gathering in my room now, pending our going to dinner, so I'll have to cut this short. I'll write again next Shabbat. Rest assured, this is my kind of life!

9th March, 1983

2007-07-04T10:01:00.000+02:00

All's well. I arrived safely and on time (5 minutes early, in fact), sat around the airport for a few hours and eventually got to the kibbutz at ten o'clock last night. It really is too early to have even the vaguest idea of what's going on around me, but by Saturday I'm sure I'll have some idea - enough to write a decent letter with some positive information.

The flight was tremendous. Jonathan, the chap I met at Jan Smuts Airport, who is on the same Ulpan (Hebrew School), sat right behind me on the plane, so we could chat and joke together all the way. On every sector there was some or other crew member who remembered me (usually chiefs), so the flight, although long, was very pleasant. Because we'd paid full airfares (i.e. we weren't travelling on excursion rates) we sat in what they call the "Gold Class". This meant that there were only seventeen of us in the upstairs section. Although it is still Economy Class, drinks and headphones were free. They issued free sleeping socks and masks, so we could hardly have asked for more.

When we got to the Jewish Agency at the airport, (we landed at 3.33pm) the formalities were completed fairly quickly. The only catch was that they wouldn't give us the 1000 Shekels that Natan (our Shaliach) told us to collect. That, they informed me, was only for refugees. They wouldn't accept that I could be a refugee. Refugees only came from Russia or Iran. Anyway, as I didn't need any money urgently, that didn't matter too much. We elected to come straight to the kibbutz, so after sitting around until five to six, the driver turned up and we left. Unfortunately the driver got lost looking for some obscure kibbutz for someone else who was with us and we only got to ours (Degania Bet in the Jordan Valley) at ten. We were pretty exhausted. I've never slept so well in my life - I just went into a coma for the night.

This morning after breakfast (salads, cottage cheese and a hard-boiled egg), we checked in officially and were given our work clothes. We weren't given any work to do today - we were told to settle in - but had to mark all our clothes in Hebrew for laundry purposes. Fortunately, a nice young lady - one of those in charge of us - marked mine for me. The work clothes are merely two pairs of pants, two shirts and two pairs of socks. The boots are so-so; fine for working purposes, but that's about all.

Although the early mornings and the nights are cold (but no colder than on the Highveld), the days are warm. Today is, at any rate. Last night, though, I blessed that warm jacket you bought me.

The people I've met so far on the Ulpan are a nice lot. I share a room with Jonathan and another South African. Space for clothes is a problem, though. I only unpacked enough for immediate daily use. One day, when I have a home of my own here, that problem will disappear, so it's a minor detail.

I'm rushing these few lines to you now to let you know that all is well, but I anticipate sitting back on Saturday and writing you a decent letter with more interesting details. Suffice to say that I'm here, I'm sure I'll stay, and I don't anticipate any problem settling down. Other than that, I've hardly had a chance to gather my thoughts.

About the Times

2007-07-04T09:22:00.000+02:00

In March 1983 when I left S.A., the country was eleven years away from democracy. Positive change had not yet begun.

The Rand was stronger than the US Dollar. The Israeli currency, the Shekel, was 37 Shekels to the Dollar. Inflation in Israel was soaring. So much so, that many people there acquired the practice of borrowing money against their salaries at the beginning of the month in order to buy dollars, because by the end of the month their salaries would be worth that much less.

By late July 1985 the Shekel was 1500 to the Dollar. Shortly after I left, the currency was revalued and one New Shekel became the equivalent of one Dollar.

When I exchanged Dollars for Rands in Athens on the way back, I was shocked to find that the Rand was considerably weaker than the Dollar. I thought there was a mistake, that they had calculated it the wrong way around. "Where have you been for the last couple of years" the embassy official asked me? A lot had changed in the short time that I had been away. "Change" had begun.

Introduction

2007-07-03T17:39:00.000+02:00

By the end of 1982, at the age of 31, I was bored, broke and unemployed. I had spent the preceding years as a cabin attendant for South African Airways, where I acquired a love of travelling abroad, followed by three years as a sales consultant in the field of communications and time control. A spate of experiments followed: studying television scriptwriting, working on film sets, private investigation, culminating in a period of living on a farm with my parents, helping in the dairy and writing unsuccessful television screenplays.

The thought began to take root that it would be wonderful to live a simple life, similar to the farm life, doing a simple task in exchange for the basic necessities of life, while trying my hand at some serious writing. I began to realize that such a lifestyle actually existed - on kibbutz in Israel. I didn't, however, have the means to get there.

On a whim, I went to the Jewish Agency in Johannesburg to find out what the requirements would be. The man who interviewed me, a man called Natan, looked at me quizzically and said "Why don't you make Aliyah?" 'Aliyah' is the term meaning 'make the ascent', the Return to Israel. Emigrate. "I'm only half Jewish", I replied. "That's Jewish enough, under the Law of the Return," he said.

Called a 'Shaliach', it was his task to encourage Aliyah and make the appropriate arrangements. He told me that the Jewish Agency would pay my airfare, settle me on a kibbutz, where I would spend the first three months on an 'Ulpan', learning Hebrew and working on the kibbutz. Thereafter, I would find a kibbutz to settle on permanently. If I decided to leave Israel before two years, I would pay the Jewish Agency back pro-rata for the unfulfilled time. Meanwhile, I would be treated as a new immigrant.

After some emotional consultation with my family, the deed was done. The date was March, 1983. I stayed in Israel for two years, then came back. I couldn't settle down here again. Six weeks later I was on a plane back. Nine months after that I came home permanently. My mother died of cancer within weeks of my return. I found out the hard way that family bonds and needs are the priority.

Despite the fact that I didn't stay, those years in Israel were the best of my life.

The letters posted here are more or less verbatim. They were not written with good writing techniques in mind. They were simply communications from the heart, written in snatched moments, designed to keep my parents in the loop of my life.