The Last Rain (19 page)

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Authors: Edeet Ravel

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Diary of a Young Man

5 February 1922.
Yesterday at the Meeting we had a lengthy discussion about our attitude to work. There are those who claim that we, the Shomrim, must be extra punctilious, because there are still stories circulating about Shomrim who go out to work and, when they should be paying attention to their tools, Nietzsche and Freud pour forth instead from their bosom.

Others feel that it doesn’t matter what people say; we must direct our efforts first and foremost to creating a new society and living our collective lives in the most profound way possible.

Dori

We all have worms. Everyone except Skye.
The way to get rid of worms is an enema. Daddy takes me to the infirmary and fills my tushi with soapy water. I run to the toilet and out comes all the water. With the worms I hope.
My brother David has another method. You put lots of soap and water on a piece of toilet paper and then you stick it in your tushi. I’ll try that next time.
Skye’s grandmother in Boston sent her a necklace with a gold heart. The only thing we’re allowed to have that’s our own in the Children’s House is our toothbrush because of germs and our shoes and slippers because someone else’s wouldn’t fit. But that bracelet could fit anyone.
But it’s only Skye’s.

Transcript of the Social Committee Meeting December 1961

Chair:

Gila

Present:

Martin, Shula, Lou, Varda, Hanan, Ora

Gila:

The question we have to decide on is whether or not

 

to suggest a reassessment of our personal property

 

policy at the Meeting, and if so, what sort of changes

 

we propose. There have been a lot of hard feelings lately

 

about gifts individual members are getting, especially

 

the Israeli members, who bring things back with them

 

almost every weekend.

Ora:

I don’t know why you’re always picking on the sabras.

 

You guys get plenty of gifts from home.

Lou:

Either way, as the standard of living rises, maybe we can

 

afford to be more flexible.

Varda:

True. Remember the fuss about the two kerosene lamps

 

that you-know-who found in one of the Arab houses!

 

Two lousy kerosene lamps, I think we discussed it until

 

2 a.m.

Martin:

Luckily we’re more enlightened now.

Lou:

Why don’t we look at what people are keeping for them-

 

selves and then get a general overview of what we’re

 

dealing with. It’s just too abstract otherwise. There’s a

 

difference between a guitar and a watchstrap.

Varda:

But how detailed are we going to get? Some things really

 

are irrelevant. And by the way, don’t think I haven’t

 

heard the snide comments about my red belt.

Martin:

I move that we omit Varda’s red belt from the list.

Gila:

All right, let’s start with a vote on whether to a) look

 

at specific cases before deciding on the need for new

 

guidelines, or b) try to come up with a formula first,

 

based for example on whether the item could be useful

 

to others, its value, its purpose …

Martin:

Acquisition equals mass times the speed of envy squared.

Lou:

Envy doesn’t enter into it.

Dori

We’re at Galron. I pick up a cardboard wheel that teaches you how to read with dots. I turn the wheel and look at the different dots. I could learn it now if I wanted to. But what’s the rush?
A new girl joined our Group today. Her name is Hannah. She’s very tall with white skin and long blonde hair that she doesn’t want to braid or put in an elastic. She doesn’t have a mother and I think her father is a dentist. He’ll have to do things aside from fixing teeth because most people’s teeth don’t need fillings more than once a year. It’s different with Dafna because there’s always someone who’s sick.
Hannah isn’t a Pioneer and she doesn’t want to be one. She doesn’t like Eldar and she doesn’t like us. I tried to talk to her but she didn’t answer me.

Diary of a Young Man

6 February 1922.
There is still much that is missing from our commune; we don’t even have a clothing pool yet. People hesitate to share in this area.

8 February 1922.
Finally, there is a clothing pool.

At the moment it’s not mandatory, but most members were enthusiastic, and immediately a procession of suitcase-bearers formed in the yard, marching towards the storage area next to the kitchen.

There are those, however, who oppose the pool. In our Meetings, they argue that it’s too early, we haven’t yet created the necessary conditions—that is, intensive, communal life that is broad and profound. When those conditions are reached, the pool will come into being naturally.

Dori

Hannah has a different way of drawing the sky. Instead of one blue line on top she fills the whole space with light blue. And instead of pressing her crayons she makes everything pale. Like her.
I don’t know about not pressing but I have to admit that her sky is better. We want to copy her but we don’t like her so we pretend we don’t like her sky.
I asked Daddy if he could trace the beautiful gas station picture from the black book of paintings. He said he could! And he’s doing it! It’s going to take him a long time because it’s a very hard picture.
I’m so happy he’s tracing it! I’m going to have a copy all my own. I’m very lucky with my Daddy.

Landscape with Garage Lights, by Naftali

Dori

Another wonderful Hike with Carmella.
Some of the children are saying that if you cut a worm in half it becomes two worms. They find a worm and cut it in half and both parts start to move. But I don’t think the worm likes it. I don’t think there are two worms now. I hope they won’t do it again.
Suddenly I find a
rakefet
hiding under a boulder!
Wondrous and dainty, with wings like a fairy’s—
the song is exactly right. Delicate white with a tiny bit of dark pink at the bottom and then slowly turning into white. Oh I’m going to burst with happiness. I lie on my stomach and look and look. If only I could do more than look. That’s the problem with everything. All you can do is look.

Baby Diary

December 1.

Crawling
backwards.

Dori

We had a letter from Jonathan. Shoshana read it to us. He said he likes his new kibbutz and he has a tricycle.
We’re all jealous. He’s a show-off.
He doesn’t miss us at all.
As a matter of fact I had a tricycle in Canada. I rode it all the way to the corner store and back. My brother David was raking the leaves with a boy who lived next door who always had a Band-Aid on his knee. A boy Daddy didn’t like but we played with him anyhow. I bought two pink popsicles at the store and when I came back the leaves were in a big pile and we jumped on them and ate our popsicles. A half for me a half for David and a half for the boy with the Band-Aid and a half for his little sister Louise.

Our First Year

24 July 1949.
A big celebration in honour of Eldar’s first child, Avital. Indeed none of us, aside from the parents and one or two privileged individuals, has yet seen the infant (who must be protected from the microbes of ordinary mortals), nor was she able to participate in the large-scale festivities in her honour.

Eli even composed a song for the occasion to words by Edna. Archie delivered a lecture, with props, on the Care and Feeding of Infants, in which he explained the phenomenon of “leaking” in the young child—nothing surprising, he assured us, in view of the fact that the human being consists mainly of water.

Dori

It’s Hanukkah.
After supper we go to the Dining Hall and walk in the dark holding candles and singing Candle My Candle and We Come to Dispel the Dark. They’re both beautiful songs.
What I like best is when we sing—
We come to dispel the dark
With our candles glowing bright
Each one a tiny flame
Together a great light
Because it isn’t just a song. It’s what we’re really doing. That doesn’t happen usually.

Dispelling the Dark

Dori

We have to rush in the morning now that we’re going to Galron.
But by mistake Shoshana brought a soft-boiled egg for me from the Kitchen instead of hard. She says
you’re just going to have to eat it
. But I can’t eat a soft-boiled egg. I’ll throw up.
Shoshana says
no one is leaving until Dori eats her egg
. I start to cry but she won’t give in. I cry right into the egg. I move it with my fork but I can’t eat it. It doesn’t even look like food.
I cry and cry and Shoshana gets angrier and angrier. Finally she tells me to take the bowl with me and eat the egg on the walk to the microbus. I hold the bowl and the fork and walk and cry. Suddenly I have an idea. I spill the egg in the bushes.

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