Trinny v’Susannah

Since my last post, I finished my volunteering stint at Neve Michael. It was an amazing experience and it felt very special to be part of the society and working here. So far, my trip feels like it is panning out exactly how a sabbatical should. I really hope that I can stay in touch with the people there and hopefully follow up with how the children are getting on.

Last Friday morning, I made my way to Tel Aviv and met up with Ariella (Kalms) and her family for Shabbat. Needless to say I was exceptionally well fed and watered and really enjoyed their warm and food oriented hospitality for a couple of days. Thank you!

I managed to see a little of the city on Friday when I wandered down to Shenkin Street for a couple of hours. Shenkin Street is a bit like Camden and being Friday (the Israeli weekend is Friday and Saturday), it was heaving.

Fashion is Israel is certainly…what’s the word…unique. More so than anywhere else I have ever been, what you wear reflects who you are and what you believe in, and the level of your religious observance is most definitely the biggest influence to what you wear and how you wear it.

At one end (the ultra religious end that is) you have men in dark wool suits and white shirts whatever the temperature sporting velvet kippot (yarmulkes) and women with their hair totally covered with a sheital (wig) or scarf, wearing sandals together with thick tights. Somewhere in the middle of the spectrum (yes, I know everyone thinks they’re in the middle), the men are recognisable by their knitted kippot and the women will wear headscarves or hats with possibly some hair exposed. These more modern orthodox women and girls tend to find open toed “sandalim” acceptable and they’ve adopted a fashion of wearing skirts over skirts and trousers under skirts. I actually really like it.

My descriptions are by no means fixed and there are definitely variations. For example, the bigger the circumference of your kippah and the tightness of its knit have different significances, and the settlement communities embrace their own distinctive style, which includes some men wearing tzitsit (fringed prayer shawl) over their clothes and penchant for all things orange. (Orange ribbons became the symbol of solidarity with the evacuee families from the West Bank last summer)

And as for the rest of the country, who come under the Chiloni (or secular) category, they have their own equally individual fashion sense. At the moment ‘Crocs’ are all the rage. These are plastic clogs available in a selection of rainbow colours and which would not look out of place as part of surgeon’s scrubs. Somehow, I don’t see these taking on in London.

This is also the land of the platform shoe. Thick platform soled shoes are worn by all girls and women here – perhaps as an antidote to the fact that we are particularly short people? I’m not sure.

But don’t think that Israelis can’t be stylish. If you know where to go, you can find clothes, jewellery, interiors and art which are both modern and beautiful.

***

After a brief stop back in Jerusalem on Sunday to leave my bags and watch the football, I met up with Lisa (Wilton) on Monday morning and we came to the Dead Sea, which is where I find myself writing at this moment in time.


It’s 36 degrees here and feels like you are walking into an oven every time you step outside the hotel. But the views are sensational. In front of the hotel we can see the very still, oil-like, sea with the Jordanian hills on the horizon. Behind us are the dramatic red rock formations of the Judean desert. I am pleased to report that we have been doing very little other than sitting by the pool, reading, playing Sudoku and being pampered. I am also using the time to psych myself up for becoming a “sem girl” as of Friday!

Loads of luck to England for Saturday and to the Brits left in Wimbledon. Must go now to help Lisa with her Sudoku…

Golani 12

Yesterday morning my 21-year old cousin, Yonatan, a commander in the Israeli Defence Forces (IDF) or Tzahal (the acronym by which it is commonly known as here), picked me up from Neve Michael and took me to spend the morning at his army base. He is in the Golani brigade, one of the oldest and most highly decorated in the IDF, and their training base is close by on the other side of the Green Line.

To get there we drove through country roads, slightly off the beaten track, until we slowly began to ascend a hill and as we came to the top, I was awe struck by two things which consumed my field of vision. To my left, an enormous campus of buildings, satellites and army vans protected on all sides by barbed fences and electric gates. Straight ahead, the Arab village of Kvar Qar’ia which is more densely populated with buildings and mosques than anything I have seen since arriving in Israel.

Growing up, I am sure my girlfriends from home will agree, there is something very alluring about Israeli soldiers. I still remember Gil – the soldier that accompanied our tour group around Israel when I was 16. But ten years later (it is actually nine and a large fraction), this mystique has evaporated, now that these young men are mostly 18, 19 or 20 and appear to be big boys playing with guns that just happen to be real.

In this recently built base, soldiers sleep 16 to a room on metal bunks with thin mattresses. I smiled wryly when some of the older soldiers (24 year olds) said that the new soldiers had it too easy because they remembered when they had to sleep in tents with rain pouring through in the winter.

Yonatan’s VIP tour included the firing ranges where the newest recruits were being trained and tested on their shooting skills. Standing behind eight machine guns all being fired simultaneously is an experience which I won’t forget in a long time. Even with ear plugs and knowing what was about to happen, I still found it terrifying.

While I was there, I felt incredibly sheltered and naïve, surrounded by soldiers who have endured some of the toughest army training in the world, survived on a couple hours of sleep a night for three years and who have seen and done things which I can’t even bring myself to imagine never mind write about. No amount of qualifications or career promotions can make me feel anything other than totally inadequate in front of these (mainly) guys who have given up three or more years to protect Israel on the frontline.

I also met Yonatan’s officer. At 23, he is “professional solidier” who decided to stay on after his military service. He is responsible for 125 soldiers and is a real sweetie. We had a lovely chat and he was telling me how badly paid soldiers are. New soldiers get paid 350 NIS (£437) a month and once they've finished their basic training this goes up to 700 NIS a month (£875). For those soldiers from immigrant families where they are the only breadwinners this is especially difficult.

I hear that army food isn’t too bad (it is a Jewish army after all), but in solidarity with the IDF soldiers, Yonatan made me try Loof. I think this is the kosher equivalent to spam and it is part of the provisions soldiers are given when they go out to the field. It’s the sort of thing that can survive anything and just so you know, it tastes like the inside of cheap sausages and has an absolutely revolting aftertaste.

I must admit that I left the base with an overwhelming sense of pride in what these young men were doing and with a strengthened sense of Zionism and purpose here. These feelings weren’t embedded in any political views one way or the other, but rather in the fact that this army which I had dipped into for just a morning, was a tangible experience of a Jewish state. Like Israeli stamps and the Israeli flag, it makes you feel patriotic and protective of what has been created and fought for in the last 58 years.

Me and Yonatan

***
Other news: Last weekend I left the dizzy lights of Pardes Channah and went to live it up for a few days in Herzlyia Pituach. Sandra and I passed the time very leisurely…breakfast on the beach with lots of good looking men running past…tried the latest steak restaurant in the trendy industrial zone (- it’s called Meat & Wine Co. and was very good)…and went to Neve Tzedek, the picturesque artisan quarter of Tel Aviv, for a spot of shopping and an ice cream. Pretty perfect really.

On Sunday night I went to Mod’in, for a party for the brit of my cousins Elodie and Laurent’s new baby. For those of you who know them, here’s a picture of baby Uriel Meir and his mummy:


***

Tomorrow I’ll say goodbye to the children at Neve Michael before I leave for Tel Aviv on Friday. The plan is to be back in Jerusalem to watch the football on Sunday: Come on England!

Ze mamash yaffe

Since arriving there is no doubt that my Hebrew has improved. But I have started a list of words for which I cannot find adequate English translations, but which are used in practically every sentence here. So far I have: mamash, betach and dafka. I am not sure that there are rules for their use, but what these words often tend to do is to emphasis a point. Israelis love emphasising the point.

***

After a week of cutting, gluing, laminating, colouring and decorating, interspersed with countless singing and dancing rehearsals and a daily countdown by the children, last night was the annual bar and bat mitzvah celebration at Neve Michael. It was mamash yaffe, yaffe. (In this instance mamash means ‘really, really’ and the repetition of the word yaffe, meaning ‘nice’, adds an extra superlative dimension to the sentence).

Ashagar, Banchi and Mistual all dressed for their brother's Bar Mitzvah

Everyone worked so hard to make it a night to remember, in particular for those children marking such an important right of passage and whose parents could not mark it for them. The highlight of the evening was the show that all the children took part in and put so much effort in to, learning words and dance routines. Two of my children couldn’t quite master the art of singing and dancing at the same time so we gave them guitars to ‘play’ instead!

Daniel and Aviel 'playing' the guitar

For me though this last week hasn’t only been about the bnei mitzvot. After a week of being here, I felt I had really settled in, made friends and established a routine which is both rewarding and exhausting in equal measures. It is an experience which is teaching me to overcome new challenges everyday, adapt to the nuances of a different culture (both national and religious) and it has brought back lots of memories of my youth movement days (sharing a bathroom with six other people, set meal times and a weekly menu on rotation to name just a few).

And my time in Pardes Channah has definitely been more than just Neve Michael...

Last Friday, I had dinner with Hava and David Levene and six of their 11 children. (The longer I am here, the less I am finding this figure surprising.) Hava is the head of fundraising at Neve Michael and she and her husband are American, so it was a good chance to practice my English. They have really looked after me, taken me out in the evenings to air me out, and I really feel like their honorary 12th child at the moment.

On Tuesday morning, I took a trip with Batia Weinberg, Director of the One Family charity in the north of Israel. One Family gives emotional, legal and financial support to families who have been affected in some way by the terrorist attacks here, and it is one of the charities that the Benjamin Angel Foundation is supporting. In Batia’s patch alone, she looks after over 600 families and I accompanied her on a home visit to see a couple who although losing their daughter in October, have only recently had their status changed to ‘victims of terror’. Zvika and Shoshana’s daughter Kassie, 27, was a security guard in a mall in Netanya. On the 23rd October she took a ride home with an Arab boy who was a waiter in a restaurant. Her body was found the next day in a forest near Chadera. At first it was thought that it was lover’s tiff. But in fact, having arrested the guy, it turns out he was paid by Hamas to kill her.

As you can imagine this was difficult for so many reasons, but I am pleased that I was able to see first hand the work we are supporting in Benjamin’s name. One Family will now buy an air conditioning unit for Shoshana who has terminal cancer and will help the family access the benefits they are entitled to from the state, including counselling and grants for their younger children to go on to higher education.

***

I’m on weekend parole as of today, and I’ve come to Herzlyia to enjoy, in order of priority: the beach (I really need to start working on the tan), a good steak and Sandra who has come out for a wedding. (Sorry Sandra, but I can see you in London after all!)

I am back at Neve Michael on Sunday, for my last week there, before I take some time out to see some of the country and then it’s back to Jerusalem. It all seems to be going so fast….

Yom Huledet L'Daniel

A few photos from Daniel's birthday which we celebrated on Friday at his kindergarten with games, songs and chocolate cake. His mum and dad came too and I found that really difficult because, of course, he came back with us and not with them.
Daniel and his mum

...Also a few more of the children using up some excess energy in the gym!

Ashagar

Aviel

Ken, achi

Israel has the highest mobile phone ownership rate per capita and in the streets you can constantly hear young people answering with words: “Ken Achi” – “yes my brother”.

Of course most of the time, it’s just a friend on the other end, but I think it’s indicative of the fact that Israel is just one huge family. Everyone has been so warm, inviting me to their homes and giving me contact details just in case I am passing their neighbourhood. And being part of a big family means that Israelis have no qualms asking you personal questions – and why wouldn’t you want to tell your extended “family” about how much you earn or how much rent you pay?

Since I wrote last I have been on a long journey experiencing different parts of the country – but have only travelled about 150 miles.

Five days ago I left the holiness, intensity and familiarity of Jerusalem to go north. But before I left I spent Sunday catching up with some friends who have already made the leap of Aliyah (literally meaning “going up”, but is also the term used to describe moving to Israel.) Alon, Calev and Dan seem very happy and despite having clearly given up many of the material trappings of living in London, they have obviously gained so much in other ways. All three pointed out to me that in Israel there are the first two generations of Jewish people in thousands of years to be born not knowing what it is like to feel like a minority. There is no doubt that being in Israel this time around, I have had the opportunity to see the country in a different way and I can’t say I haven’t thought about the potential of starting Geronimo’s first international branch.

Having spent a day with my parents in the seaside resort of Netayna, I made my way to Pardes Channah, a pretty ordinary Israeli town on the face of it. It doesn’t even make it into the Rough Guide for Israel (which you can tell was clearly looking to fill space when it suggests under background reading: the bible). But here I have discovered here an incredibly special place, more than worthy of a mention.

The best way to describe Neve Michael (The oasis of Michael) is a kibbutz for children and young people from 4-18 years old who cannot live with their biological parents for whatever reason. Some are here while foster and adoption homes are found for them. Others live here for ten or more years until they go into the army.

I have been assigned to help Re’ut a girl who on religious grounds, has decided to spend a year doing national community service, rather do her military service. She looks after a smaller than usual group of five children. Two brothers (Daniel, 7 and Aviel, 5) and three sisters from Ethiopia (Metsual 7, Ashagar 6, and Banchi 5). They are utterly gorgeous and I find it so hard to understand why they are here and why they aren’t home with their mummies and daddies. (Daniel and Aviel are two of five children and their mother had a breakdown after she had her last baby. The girls are here because their father killed their mother. Their older brother is also at Neve Michael).

My schedule is panning out a little bit like this: I meet my group in the main dining room for lunch at 1.30pm once they’re back from kindergarten. After a lunch Jamie Oliver would approve of it’s a matter of taking them from one activity to the next. This week the whole village is getting ready to celebrate the annual bar and bat mitzvahs of the girls and boys reaching 12 and 13 respectively over the last year – and so my group have rehearsals to practice for the song they will be performing next week. Photos definitely to follow.

Everything here is meticulously organised. We pick up the children’s clean clothes, towels and bedding from the laundry each afternoon. We also pick up the food for dinner, which we make for them in their “house” and which we eat together once we have bathed them and got them almost ready for bed. The last thing to do is say the shema with them before they go to sleep at eight.

There is no doubt that the work is immensely rewarding – the children love having someone watch them as they play, holding their hands as they come home and giving them encouragement to do things on their own for the first time.

At the end of each day I am totally exhausted! Not only is the work physically and emotionally draining, but I am also working really hard on my Hebrew, which has no choice but to improve in a place where most people don’t speak English. (A special thanks to Anthony and Sandra at this point for the dictionary.) I am spending my free time in mornings and after 8pm reading (also thanks to Calev - the book is excellent) and helping the older girls practice their English.

I will be here this Shabbat and will be working right through until next Friday. But with Daniel’s eighth birthday today and the bar and bat mitzvah celebrations next week there should be lots of fun things happening between now and then.

The first prime minister of Israel David Ben Gurion famously said he would know the day that the Zionist dream had been realised when a Jewish prostitute was arrested by Jewish policeman. And in some ways, Neve Michael is testament to that dream: Jewish children in need being helped by Jewish social workers.

It is hard to accept that there are so many children who need to be here because of situations of domestic violence, neglect or narcotics abuse in homes across Israel, but I think that the secret to Neve Michael’s success is that it really is like a big family. On my first night when I was feeling a little bit like a fish out of water, some of the girls came to my room and brought me a welcome card and a teddy bear. I am not sure even that my own brother would have done that!

Tsipur

Everyone in Israel has one. A tsipur - a story. Since arriving I have met so many people with stories to tell. Each one more fascinating and extraordinary than the next: about why they decided to come and how they got here; about life in the army when your 21 and are looking after 1,000 soldiers in Nablus; about a mother, father and one of their sons converting to orthodox Judaism and having three other children who are still Hindu and living in California; about a writing a book about surviving the Holocaust and having it translated into German by the grandson of the SS soldier who destroyed your village...

My story in Israel starts here.

I arrived and somewhere in the skies between Italy and Greece, at approximately 30,000 feet, my nerves and anxiety disappeared. I landed at Ben Gurion airport excited about what lay ahead and relieved that all my luggage (shoes) arrived with me.

Thursday night was the start of Shavuot, the Jewish festival celebrating receiving the Torah, which meant that Thursday during the day was erev chag - the day before a festival. Erev Chag is really the start of the holiday in Israel: schools are off and there is a tangible buzz on the streets of preparation and anticipation.

Traditionally you are meant to study all night during the festival of Shavuot, and this year given I was in Jerusalem (ir hakodesh - Adam S that is for your benefit only), I indulged. This is supposed to make up for the fact that the Israelites overslept on the morning they were given the Torah. At about 4.00am, I joined what seemed like the rest of Jerusalem, on an amazing journey through the streets to the Old City. At every street corner more and more people joined this human millipede on a mission to the Kotel (Western Wall).

The sight when we arrived was mind-blowing and the only thing I can compare it to is a Jewish hajj. There must have been about 15-20,000 people there, waiting for the sun to rise in order to be able to say their morning prayers. As we waited, I tried to absorb as much of the part social/part fashion show/part spiritual experience as I could. But anyone who thought they might be able to take advantage of sponsorship opportunities when the Moshiach arrives, has missed the boat. Chabad has got it covered and this was clearly their dry run as they handed out goody bags filled with food and drink as everyone left!

As most Jewish festivals require you to go from meal to meal, regardless of whether you are hungry or not, or whether for that matter it is actually a scheduled mealtime at all, I have been eating pretty much constantly since I arrived. I have also been bumping into old friends all over town. (For those of you interested: I saw Ben Bradley at shul, had lunch with Karen Lasky at Anton Goodman's mum's house, saw Ariella and Debra Kalms at the kotel and bumped into Lee Petar on Emek Refaim. Oh, and Lindsey Henry's fiance's sister was staying with me at my cousins over shabbat. Very random.)

In Jerusalem, everyone has been so friendly and with so many English speakers around I have felt very at home. Israeli's call this a bu'ah (a bubble). When I leave tomorrow for the north, I think things will be very different. (No more leisurely breakfasts in this lovely coffee shop with free wireless internet, for example!). But since, there is no word for 'mind your own business' in Hebrew (according to Linda Grant in her brilliant book about life in Israel) , I fully expect to hear lots more stories and for hopefully my own story to take an interesting turn...