This man who cleansed the streets of Jerusalem:
His spilled blood flowed like water through them.
This man who cleared the dusty roads of this quarter:
They spilled his blood like dirty water.
You, God, who are great, enlightened, supreme,
See them ravage his body, once sacred and clean.
Enlightened God, who reigns in the skies.
Do you hear orphans and widows when they cry?
Your right hand, our support, you have withdrawn from
us,
And we are at the mercy of the villainous.
I loathe my life, for he is gone whom I cherish.
Take my soul too and let me perish,
And perhaps I will again see my longtime mate.
Then will my heart rest and my suffering abate.
Sweet as a mountain goat’s were his eyes.
Now covered with earth in the grave he lies.
Sweet as a mountain goat’s were his eyes.
Now I see darkness by death, multiplied.
My heart yearns for you, to be dead at your side,
In your grave on the Mount where you now abide.
Chapter nine
Let’s return to Herbst’s household and family. As I mentioned, Henrietta is going to give birth, either to a boy, as Manfred believes, or to a girl, as is her habit, for Henrietta is in the habit of giving birth to girls. We will know in due time. For the time being, Henrietta tolerates the indignities of pregnancy rather gracefully. This woman takes great pride in her pregnancy, unlike most women in this country, except for those in the older communities, who welcome children. Firadeus is Henrietta’s mainstay. Firadeus knows what her mistress wants. Not merely from the heaviness of her movements, but from her face as well. Every line of her mistress’s face communicates her needs. Henrietta smiles and says, “You are a prophet, Firadeus. You know what’s hidden in my heart. You guess what I want, and I don’t have to bother with words.” Firadeus tells her mistress, “I only did as I was told. It seems to me that I was given an instruction, which I fulfilled.” Henrietta thinks to herself: I may have whispered something without realizing it. But this was not the case. It was love that whispered to Firadeus, conveying the wishes of her mistress.
Tamara treats her mother with affection too. She doesn’t contradict her, avoids arguing, and stays home a lot, so her mother won’t be alone and Tamara will be available should she be needed. She herself, rather than remain idle, corrects her students’ notebooks. Just between us, they aren’t really notebooks; they are the proclamations of youth leaders not yet fluent in Hebrew, written in other languages and translated into Hebrew by Tamara, so they can be posted in public places and circulated among prominent members of the yishuv community. To prevent British Intelligence from discovering these proclamations and confiscating them, they are sent out under fictitious names, like those of nonexistent businesses, charitable institutions, and schools. When every name had been used, they resorted to Mekitzei Nirdamim (We Wake Those Who Sleep), after a publisher of classical Hebrew manuscripts that were never in print before, an enterprise that goes back about four generations and was directed by some of our greatest leaders. British Intelligence, from whom nothing is hidden, were unaware that various highly respected Englishmen (Moses Montefiore, for example, as well as the chief rabbi of Great Britain) once led this enterprise. When one of these proclamations fell into the hands of Intelligence agents, who read the text and realized its goal was to wake those who were asleep so that they would rebel against the government of Palestine, they decided to bring the directors of this venerable publishing house to trial. If the actual nature of the enterprise and its history hadn’t been uncovered just in time, the eminent persons at the head of the publishing house would have had their peace disturbed. Since this error adds nothing to the story, I’ll say no more about the activities of British Intelligence and get back to the Herbst household.
A further miracle befell the Herbst household. The day Jerusalem demonstrated against the Palestine government, Tamara had undertaken a mission. Perhaps you took notice when I related that twice it seemed to Herbst that he saw Tamara, that in the end he realized he was mistaken, that it wasn’t Tamara, that in fact it was a boy. And when I related this, I commented: Isn’t it odd for a father not to recognize his daughter? Now that it has all ended well and there’s no need to worry about saying too much, I can tell the whole story. A handsome officer worked with the Jerusalem police. He was known as the Bloodhound, for anyone who fell into his hands came to a bloody end. There was a plan to take revenge. Tamara, who was especially hostile to him, because whenever he saw her he greeted her warmly — as in the old days, when they used to see each other in cafés and dance together — was determined to retaliate. That day, she dressed as a man, so she wouldn’t be recognized, took a pistol, and set out to do away with him. Someone had preceded her, firing at the Englishman but missing his mark. The police also missed the mark. Before they could seize the culprit, his friends managed to snatch him and hide him away.
Having told about Henrietta, Firadeus, and Tamara, it’s time to tell about Sarah. But it’s easier to write a long book about adults in this country than to write a short page about a child. Our eyes are still not trained to observe the behavior of the children here, which calls for a new approach. Some people consider them extremely primitive; to others they are like children anywhere else in the world, the product of a particular education. I disagree. They are not primitive, nor is it a matter of education. It is the land and sky that form them. Our children are like the land and the sky above. The land is sometimes parched and brittle; it is sometimes saturated with pleasing dew and bountiful rain. It is sometimes violent, like a raging wind; and sometimes it is sweet and amiable, like a breeze from the north. This applies to the sky and to our children.
So much for comparisons. I’d like to get back to the Herbst household now. But first, a brief tour of Kfar Ahinoam to look in on Zahara and her son, Dani.
Kfar Ahinoam is expanding. Not in farm produce or cattle and poultry — that is to say, in barns and coops — but in the realm of woodwork. A new carpentry shop has been set up. Wood is brought in from Hadera and from abroad, and made into bulletin boards, which bring in more revenue than agricultural products. A friend of the nurse who replaced Temima Kutchinsky when she left Ahinoam is supervising the work. Since I won’t be mentioning him again in this book, I won’t mention his name or the name of the place Temima Kutchinsky went to. But I will say a few words about the carpentry shop. Some kvutza members are dissatisfied, for this was not their purpose in coming here. They came to work the land. Other members argue that, though the land needs agriculture, it needs industry too. Both factions benefit from the carpentry shop. It adds sugar to their tea and meat to their stew. Having given Zahara’s environment its due, I will dwell on Zahara.