Authors: Shlomo Kalo
THRILLER: The Galilee Plot: (International Biological Terror, The Mossad, and... A Self-contended Couple) (13 page)
I met with Shmulik in the
same café, at the same hour of the day, over the same unappetising
liquid, which has to be paid for to be experienced. In his customary manner,
Shmulik let the cat out of the bag straightaway:
“Jerusalem University
wants you to lecture to the professors and all the academic staff in the
faculty of medicine and life sciences, on recent events, from a purely medical
perspective. They are thirsty for first hand knowledge and it seems to me they
can’t be denied it.”
“They’ll get comprehensive
information, sure enough.”
“Which days and hours are
convenient for you?”
“They’ll get
comprehensive, exhaustive information in written form.”
“You’re going to write a
book!”
“Yes.”
“Why a book for Heaven’s
sake?” Shmulik persisted.
“As a native of this
country, you know the stock answer to your question.”
He smiled his broad and
most radiant smile and at once rejoined: “Why not?”
We both laughed. A light
and liberating laugh, composed of everything but tension and pressure, and
needless to say, hatred directed at any person.
“Blessed be He who gave us
life and existence and the opportunity to laugh” – Shmulik pronounced this
benediction in all seriousness.
“One of your forbears was
a rabbi!” I guessed.
“More than one.”
“Why didn’t you become a
rabbi?”
He smiled thinly:
“So I’d have the privilege
of facing your learned questions,” – he suggested, not wanting to give
offence.
“You’ve earned that.”
“And now, in all
seriousness, what answer should I give to those who sent me?”
“A detailed book is to be
published soon, with a western-philosophical edge to it, and cutting no
corners on the minutiae of the purely medical side of things, which is what
they are interested in.”
“When did you decide to
write a book?”
“That’s an interesting
question, and it deserves a no less intriguing answer, even though it’s all
true… A few weeks ago,” I continued, “I had the idea of changing my way of
life. True, the alternative exists, but it costs a lot of money.”
“How much, for example?”
he interjected.
“More than a quarter of a
million dollars. I discussed it with my wife and the idea appeals to her very
much. In this case the question remains, how to earn a quarter of a million
dollars honestly and honourably.
“The answer is,” I
continued, “to do what you’re good at. Work at the job in which you’ve proved
yourself. What I know how to do – is write. Our story began with a storm and
it’s ending with hope, you could call it a ‘thriller’ – a suspense novel, which
the market is always thirsty for and prepared to pay for, assuming of course
that the book is written with skill, is amusing, entertaining, has a lesson to
teach, and even more important, brings hope and does not leave the reader
feeling cheated. That’s why I’ve decided to sit down and do this, in fact, to
continue doing this, as the writing of the book has already started. I hope
that before long it will be finished, and all the professors in Jerusalem, and
not only there and not only professors, will hopefully be satisfied with the
book and learn something from it.”
“I’m sure I’ll feature in
the book,” Shmulik smiled a wry smile – “as one of the active participants,
under a pseudonym of course.”
“You certainly will be
there – with your name in full.”
“I’m not sure that’s
legal,” he retorted, with a stern look on his face.
“We’ll find out when the
book’s been published.”
“Then it will be too
late,” Shmulik protested.
“So be it.”
We shook hands, and parted
company.
The Swiss, like other
Europeans, up to their necks in affluence, are trying if not to depart from, at
least to limit self-deception in all things relating to religion. The Swiss,
like other Europeans, are steeped in the awareness that Christianity is not
their religion. And all the churches that have been built, and the services
that have been held there for a thousand years, and the colourful ceremonial,
are not for them. “They are Jewish”, weird and alien to the national spirit,
and for this reason arousing natural opposition. Like their European brothers,
the Swiss are seeking out a new god for themselves, or rather a new idol. And
sure enough a new idol has presented itself to them, in the form of Buddhism.
The Swiss are exceptional here too, and what appeals to them is surely some
parallel between their land – high mountains, perpetual snow – and the essence
of Tibet, and the idol of the Tibetans, who wondrous to relate, is living and
extant in the flesh, exiled from his homeland, and similar in many ways to that
false god who laid upon them a yoke not to their liking – the new and exclusive
idol of the Swiss is none other than the Dalai Lama, who during the time of our
stay in Zurich came to visit the place and was greeted with restrained
enthusiasm bordering on euphoria, authentically Swiss enthusiasm, and in
authentically Swiss fashion – the restaurant in which His Holiness the Dalai
Lama deigned to eat his lunch advertised the event prominently in the
media, and opened up a waiting-list for applicants wishing to dine at the same
time and in the same place, in his divine proximity, in exchange for a
respectable fee.
The Swiss, like other
Europeans, are entranced by nothingness and the void, although they call these
things by all kinds of palliative names… there is no religion and no faith in
Europe, and in Switzerland all the more so.
We felt no compulsion to
dine in that restaurant, honoured as it was by the holy presence of the
representative of nothingness and the void, and instead we watched the
incessant stream of devotees, emanating from all corners of Europe and
converging on Zurich, heading in the direction of the favoured restaurant. The
devotees wore gowns of red and yellow, representing Tibetan Buddhism. Prominent
among them was a large number of women, and among the women were many of middle
age and above, and it is not in the nature of the neutral gown to accentuate or
to hide any physical charms. Some of the gowns were open, and looked just like
the kind of gowns that have a functional use in the bathroom.
In the streets of Zurich
there were gigantic posters of the Dalai Lama with his humble and innocent
smile. The current Dalai Lama does not insist on a sacred dimension or on
enlightenment, but on his status as a Tibetan Buddhist from birth.
The Swiss are proud of
their long-stemmed horns, virtually identical to the Tibetan Rag-Dung, which
settles the argument over the origin of the Swiss. Of course, this is the
opinion of the gown-wearers, male as well as female. I did not hear any other
opinion expressed, despite the deafening peals of bells on Saturday evening and
Sunday morning.
The visit of the exiled
Dalai Lama to Zurich passed off quietly. What the future holds for the exiled
Dalai Lama and for his European acolytes – is not easily foretold. Anyway,
there was a flood of visitors to Zurich from states neighbouring Switzerland,
not to mention neighbouring cantons, especially the German-speaking ones. On
Buddhism in general and on the Dalai Lama in particular, I have written
extensively in my previous books. In a nutshell, as I put it – Buddhism is
nothing other than comprehensive suicide, of the body, the spirit and the soul.
Recently, a fervent Buddhist responded with the claim that those who believe in
God and turn to Him are nothing other than despicable cowards, from which it
follows – he who spurns and dispels God is the fearless and heroic one, and not
the reverse. Without wishing to stir up the sticky morass of claim and
counter-claim too energetically, the kind of stirring that invariably and
inevitably results in something very malodorous, it could be said, in writing of
course and without entering into argument, of which Lao Tsze declares: “Arguing
is not high-minded, and the high-minded do not argue” (Tao Teh Ching) – that I
prefer to remain on the high-minded plane, as Lao Tsze has helpfully defined
it.
Anyway, the Swiss
authorities applauded the visit of the Dalai Lama to Zurich, which gave an
added impetus to tourism, external and internal, an important and profitable
sector of the Swiss economy, supplemented this time by the manufacture of
gowns, Tibetan style, also useful in the bathroom and turning a handsome profit
when sold at the same price to all (merely conjecture).
Every year, Zurich is
decorated by puppets illustrating a certain theme. Two years ago these were
colourful benches, this year bears appeared. King bears, bears in the
costumes fashionable at the court of Louis XIV, astronaut bears, mountaineering
bears, police bears, construction-worker bears, chocolate bears, etc. etc.
Dolls, drawing the attention of tourists, clicking away with their cameras,
especially tourists from the Far East, and providing national entertainment,
uniquely Swiss, for the Swiss residents of the place.
In a central location, in
a corner of the Bahnhoff, opposite the central railway station, stands a
gigantic caricature of Einstein, dressed as a bear, and beneath it the caption:
“Monsieur Al-Bear Einstein”.
It is painful to see an
eminent scientist, one of the greatest thinkers of the Twentieth Century,
reduced to a laughing-stock for the benefit of yokels.
In my native country, the
national poet, Yaborov, wrote a poem in praise of the Armenians. The emotional
Armenians asked for and received from their government, permission to erect a
memorial statue to Yaborov. At the base of the statue was the inscription: “To
Yaborov, from the grateful Armenians.”
Einstein, who carried the
name of Switzerland from one end of the world to the other, was proud of his studies
in Zurich and never had anything but good to say about Switzerland. And now,
when everything has gone sour and Einstein is dead and buried, the
manufacturers of chocolate and cuckoo-clocks are trying to give him the
customary make-over.
The Swiss are in favour of
integration and prepared to engage in incisive debate with all who oppose it,
in any way. But, like other members of the family of German-speaking nations,
they feel their skin crawling whenever conversation turns to that Jew who was
indeed proud of his Swiss nationality – and yet this pride was not enough to
turn him into a Swiss in their eyes.
Shlomo Kalo was born in
1928 in Sofia, Bulgaria and was active in the anti-Fascist underground from
the age of 12. At the age of 15, he was arrested and sent to a
concentration camp. At the age of 18, he won a prize in a poetry competition.
He Studied medicine in Prague where he also worked as a journalist. As an
overseas volunteer for the newly established Israel, he was sent to train as a
pilot in Olomouc and in 1949 immigrated to Israel. He was awarded M.Sc. in
microbiology by the Tel-Aviv Univ. and Became director of medical laboratories
in Israel's largest health care service.
The sharp turn in his life
which occurred in the first week of 1969 has been reflected ever since in his
creation.
80
titles of his were published in Israel: fiction and literary non-fiction
written in a variety of genres. His works have so far been translated and
published in 17 countries.
Some
fiction titles written by Shlomo Kalo's that are available on Amazon
(Links lead to Kindle format editions):
THE CHOSEN trilogy:
Book I: THE YOUTH
An Epic
Novel based on the Biblical story of Daniel
LILI
A novel of
Love Suspense and Redemption of the true kind
ATHAR
a Holocaust Memoir
FOREVERMORE
Gripping documented stories from Jewish history
ERRAL An autobiographical novel
THE DAY IS COMING
THE TROUSERS – Parables for the 21
st
Century