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» נצפה 229 פעמים מאז תחילת הספירה.
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לפני 14 שנים ו-7 חודשים סיפור חיים פרק ד באנגלית. A.B.
14
Chapter four: The promised land.
The Aegean star was a passenger ship carrying mainly tourists from Marseilles to the Middle East. The British, who ruled at the time in Palestine, restricted the number of immigrants. In reaction, thousands of Jews, mostly Holocaust survivors smuggled into the land illegally, and so did we. But, unlike the massive immigration on ships unsuitable for human transportation, (many of them were caught by the British and deported to Cyprus.) We were among the few lucky families who came as tourists, with false documents. In our case it was quite easy, because we had still in our possession the forged papers that we used during the war. For a small fee, mother’s husband, changed from David Jaffe to John Delmont. There was still a small dilemma to be solved. It would be expected that a French gentleman should speak French, and David knew only Yiddish and Polish. To overcome this problem, he acted deaf and dumb, whenever we were in public. It was a smart idea, but it created some funny situations. To travel with a crowd of passengers, of which every one could be a collaborator, during six days, and that, knowing no sign language, was quite complicated. After a short while, the passengers concluded that he was not just dumb but crazy as well. Apart from that, we had a very pleasant trip, with plenty of delicious food, well most of it. The first time I put a black olive in my mouth, I nearly puked all over the table. But as I said, the meals were a real feast. The whole atmosphere in the dining room was so elegant. There was a waiter for every table, holding out silver plates with delicacies for us to put on our saucers. But it would be considered bad behavior to fill up our plate, so we refrained from taking the quantities that would satisfy our appetite. At our table sat a young French couple, well dressed and altogether with a high society look. They found a simple solution. He served her and she served him. That was their justification to fill the plates to the rim. Jacky and I never managed to reach an agreement as to who will be first to serve, so we remained envious of the French couple, until the ship entered the port of Haifa. The English policeman, who checked the passports, passively stamped them, and wished us a happy stay in Palestine. (Three months later the United Nations voted in favor of the Jewish state, and the name was changed to Israel.) We had to stay in a hotel in Haifa until our papers were ready.
David had three sons in Israel, two of them Samuel and Aaron, lived in a kibbutz named Ganigar. The youngest of his sons, Jacob, lived with David’s brother Ezekiel, who according to what we heard about him, was the Mayor of Nof-Yam. I visualized him living in a palace similar to the one in Marseilles, with servants and maids serving the guests. I pictured us living in that manor. We would leisurely enjoy the facilities of David’s brother’s position. As soon as we received our documents, we went by bus to Ezekiel’s grand mansion. It turned out that Nof Yam was the smallest village I have ever heard of. There were at that time six small houses, identical in size and structure. Each one consisted of two small rooms, a kitchen that was not big enough for more than two persons and a bathroom with no bath in it, only a shower and a toilet. The Mayor was merely a tax collector for the government. His wife Vardah who was born in Germany (a very special brand,) let us in. As soon as we were seated she fetched a broom and began sweeping the floor. Gone were our dreams of a royal reception. Ma and David realized that we have to find other accommodations. The house was too small for all of us. Even if there had been enough room, Vardah would have died of a heart attack if we had stayed over night. We left after a while and went to try our luck at uncle Pinchas’s place.
15
My fathers’ brother Pinchas, his wife Jenny, and their three children, lived in a nice apartment in Tel-Aviv. Zeeva, the first daughter, was thirteen years old, just about my age. Samson was seven, and Urit, she was still a baby. They offered to keep Jacky and me until Ma and David were settled. All day long, we played in the yard, getting in trouble with the neighbors. It was a quiet neighborhood, and we were carelessly shouting and jumping around unaware of the disturbing noise we made. The woman living next door, begged us to keep quiet, because her husband worked night shifts, and had to sleep during the day. We really tried for a while, but then again we went on with our noisy games. Aunt Jenny told us that she will have to send us to Mom and David, if the complaints will continue. In the evenings when Zeeva had finished her homework, I would do my best to impress her. She listened to my heroic stories, (most of them lies of course, or let’s rather call them fiction,) and was obviously impressed. Otherwise, why would she invite me into her bed at night? Aunt Jenny came in one night and didn’t like at all finding us so close together. As a matter of fact, we were just joking and giggling, but Aunt Jenny would accept no explanations, she had enough of me, so the next day Pinchas took me to Magdiel agricultural boarding school. I was accepted but had to wait a few days before I could move in, so I spent these days in the Kibbutz with Samuel and Aaron. Ganigar (the Kibbutz) was for me like a summer camp. There was plenty of food, and I enjoyed working in the fields, but it lasted just a few days, and then Samuel came with me by bus to the boarding school. The bus was covered with bulletproof steel plates, because the road led through hostile Arab villages. We were told to keep our heads down, and we were shot at several times, but beside a few scratches from the broken windows nobody was hurt. That was my first physical encounter with the Israeli Arab conflict.
Most of the youngsters in Magdiel were children of new emigrants mainly from Western Europe, who could not provide their needs. Some were Sabras (a nickname for Israeli children.) We were separated into groups, according to our age. I shared a room with three other fourteen years old boys. For some reason we called each other by family names. Priadin was the biggest of us, he must have lied about his age, because he looked at least seventeen, but his most remembered feature was his huge penis. We had size contests every now and then, and he won them all, even when the competition included boys from older groups. Nass was a nice looking boy with curly black hair. Mine were dull brown and straight, I spent hours in front of the mirror trying to make them fall down on my brow with at least a few waves, but it didn’t work, as soon as I took of the clips, they went straight again. After all, I could not walk around with clips in my hair, and have everybody laugh at me. I was madly jealous of Nass. I don’t remember the name of the third boy, every one called him Malutky pishonky, which in Polish means, little prick, and the reason for that, needs no explanation. Our instructor was a beautiful Hungarian young woman in her twenties, named Judith. She used to open the door at half past six in the morning and wake us up. Quite often we were awake, revealing our erection covered by the bed sheet alone, even Malutky had what we called a tent, but unsatisfied by it’s size, he used a stick to make it look bigger. Judith reacted as if she didn’t notice anything and disregarded our efforts to embarrass her. She would clap hands and call out,
Get up boys; you are missing a beautiful morning.
16
One day she met me in the courtyard and said she wanted a word with me. I was in a bad mood because I was punished for something I didn’t do, and I thought that she too wanted to lecture me about my bad behavior.
She asked me what is bothering me and I told her.
I believe you, she said, but tell me, how many times have you played dirty tricks and gone unpunished? Consider this a closed deal.
It sounded quite logical, coming from her. I did really calm down, and we had a long nice conversation afterwards. Among other things she explained that sex was a beautiful part of nature, and that we got it all twisted because we new about it only through dirty jokes. I hoped that she would go deeper into that subject, with some actual demonstrations, but she did not. Nevertheless I fell in love with her, like with every woman I met at the time.
Speaking about falling in love, there was our exceptionally beautiful teacher at school, whom I couldn’t stop staring at. She was a Yemenite young woman with a body that can be seen only in fashion magazines. After a while she noticed that my mind was far from the subjects that she was teaching. When I joined her class she was impressed by the fact that even thou my Hebrew is so poor I sit so quietly, absorbing every word of hers, but then she found out, that I have no idea what she is talking about, and that my eyes are fixed on her breasts, and other parts of her body, so she sent me out of the classroom. And the rest of my studies I made on the huge strawberry tree in the school’s courtyard, as soon as she entered the classroom, she sent me out.
The year is 1948; the newborn Israel is fighting the war of independence. Jews from all over the world are immigrating to their old-new homeland. Among them is Aunt Tsubi. She was one of the few members of my family who survived the worst of all German concentration camps “Auschwitz”. David and mother, who had rented an apartment in Herzlia, took her in. Tsubi was a nice looking blond, in her early twenties, (most of the women seemed beautiful to me at the time, but she really was.) One day she came to visit me. I had never heard about her before, and she almost made me come, the way she hugged and kissed me. Then she asked how I liked it there. I don’t remember what I told her, but she made me pack my belongings, and took me home.
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