h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Hi Elly,
You would have been four years old when I lived at Gilgal in the summer of 1981. I don't remember you but I do remember a very sweet little boy, about the same age as you would have been at the time, named Barak. His father's family was from Egypt and his mother's family came from Yemin. Her name was Etti.

I was a meetnadev, considering making my home there, or somewhere in Israel, but as all of my family is here in the U.S. they objected.

I learned a lot of Hebrew that summer as few people on the kibbutz at that time spoke English. The population, then, was made up of Sabras and a large garin from France. Even those who spoke English were very good about not letting me depend on it too much, so I could learn Hebrew quickly.

The two and a half years, all together, that I lived in Israel December 1980-June 1982 were among the most fulfilling of my life and I miss Israel every day.

~Aaron Feldman

Hi Aaron.
I'm sure you knew my mother, Shlomit, she was the Kibbutz' accountant, or something to that effect. My older brother was there too, and in all we weren't that many kids, as you probably remeber.
Not many families live there now, allot of the "veterans" left years ago, my family among them.
I can't say if I'm happy or sad for you for not staying. The country isn't doing that great...

Elly: Hi Aaron,
Aaron: Hi Ely,
I've been thinking about your reply all day, ever since I went to work this morning, switched on my computer and read it. I didn't have time to respond then but now I'm at home, the house is quiet and my little boy is asleep, so I can reply.

I can't begin to tell you what a delight it is for me to come across smeone who knows some of the same people that I knew back in Isreal; someone who intimately knows many of the places that I knew.
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Elly: I'm sure you knew my mother, Shlomit, she was the Kibbutz' accountant, or something to that effect.
____
Aaron: I do indeed remember your mother, infact, she's an individual who stands out from my clouded memory of 23 years ago as being most kind and helpful, and making me feel very much at home at Gilgal. Please convey to her my warmest regards; I hope she is well.
____
Elly: My older brother was there too, and in all we weren't that many kids, as you probably remember.

Aaron: Yes, I do recall that all of the children were young and the gan was quite small.

You probably don't remember Barak, his mother Etti and his father, who's name I've since pulled up from my memory -- it was Baruch. Your mother probably would remember them, though. Etti had the rather unfortunate habit of screaming at the kids (you may well have come under her wrath yourself, even if you don't remember). Needless to say, this unacceptable behavior did not go over well with the other members of the kibbutz, as it shouldn't any time, anywhere.

They were having a rather hard time fitting in (or, I should say that Etti was having a hard time fitting in, Baruch, if I recall correctly was fitting in very well). And so I believe that they were only there perhaps a year or two and were probably gone by the time you were five.

But it was more than just her short temper. Sadly, I think that what was really in play was the old dynamic of a Spharedi family trying to fit into the larger Ashkenazi culture of kibbutz in general and having a hard go of it. Overall, the kibbutz was composed of young Sabras, themselves the product of that unique blend of all the diversity of the galut that has come together to create modern Israeli society. People were generally tolerant, open and accepting and Baruch thrived in the environment, but he was also a modern Israeli. Etti, I believe, came from a very traditional family and had a harder time fitting in.

If I recall correctly, they had moved to Gilgal from Holon and perhaps returned there after leaving.
___
Elly: Not many families live there now, allot of the "veterans" left years ago, my family among them.

Aaron: The members of the French garin that I wrote of previously were not there long. About a year and a half later, perhaps two years, while I was living at Kfar Charuv, I took a seven-day hike alone down the Golan and around Yam Ha'Kinneret. In Tiberias I ran into a friend from Gilgal. He and his wife had since left and were living there in town, where he was then employed as a police officer. He told me that the French garin had all left en masse. Although I don't think that they necessarily returned to France, they probably settled down to more comfortable lives in cities or more well established older kibbutzim -- perhaps kibbutzim with already established and larger French communities.

I certainly don't have to explain to you (although other readers of this list-serve may wish to know) that life in the Jordan Valley (the lowest point on Earth below sea level) is challenging, to say the least. Life in Israel is not easy, but it takes a particularly hardy individual to stick it out and enjoy the life in that very hot part of the country.

If one is used to the soft pleasures of France -- or the United States for that matter -- they may wish to set their sights on a less strenuous challenge for life in Israel.

Why did your family decide to leave Gilgal? Who is there now and what is life like for them?

Ah, I have such fond memories of the place. Picking grapes early in the morning and packing them in the afternoon when it as too hot to be out in the sun. Working in the date groves where we were then taller than the trees and they must now tower at 3 or 4 storeys above the ground. Tending the young grapefruit trees down by the gvul, loking across to the mountains of Moab and wondering what life in Jordan must be like. Staying up all night to innoculate the young chicks in the lool, and trying not to fall asleep while jabbing the millionth bird. Kadur regel on he lawn in the evenings with the men of the kibbutz or a dip in the pool while we barbecued beside it. And, of course, eating in the old chader ochel, one of the original structures, built when Gilgal had been started as an army base. Did they ever build a replacement for it? The bilding was certainly quite adequate for our needs, given the size of the population at the time.
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Elly: I can't say if I'm happy or sad for you for not staying. The country isn't doing that great...

Aaron: Be sad for me Elly. Be sad for any Jew who desires to live in Israel but doesn't do it. Be sadder for the Jew has has no desire to live in Israel. Life for you is normal (the matzav not withstanding). Perhaps it's hard for you to appreciate what I mean, but you are the goal. You are the people that we in the lands of the diaspora long to be. You are our heros -- as corny as that might seem to you.

And I don't make light of your situation. I know that the economy is in tatters because of the matzav. And it tears at my heart to wake up every morning and turn on the radio news, or to open a newspaper, and learn of the daily acts of savage barbarism that are inflicted upon the people of Israel.

But still I envy you, because despite the difficulties of life in Israel ... you are home. Where as I, although born and raised in the U.S., am like a stranger in a strange land. I feel like I'm only passing through here, whereas, when I was in Israel, despite it all being new to me, I felt like I was home.

That's what I meant by your life being normal. Obviously the violence and endless hostility aimed at Israel is no normalacy anyone should ever accept, but life is normal for you because you are immersed in the culture, the language the very being of the Jewish people. Whereas, I'm like a fish out of water. American culture is very nice, but it's not my culture. As a secular Jew, I feel particularly lost here because religion is the principle expression of Jewish life here and all the rest is well and good ... but not enough.

I guess it's hard for us to fully appreciate each others lives, and so perhaps we envy what the other one has. But I assure you, the life you lead is of greater value.

Ironically, since my family insisted that I return 22 years ago I have since acquired family in Israel by marriage.

My youngest sister, Cyndi, married an Israeli man, Steve Kroser, whose family originally came from South Africa in the 1970s when he was a teenager. Alhough they now live in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, his mother, two sisters, brother and their families live in Tel Yosef, Eliat, Rananna and Netanya. Steve, Cyndi and their two kids travel over every few years to visit and Steve's mother and others come here each summer for a visit.

My youngest brother, Gary, married a lovely Israeli woman, Adi Dahan, whose large family lives in Eliat, except for one frumish brother who lives in Jerusalem. My brother is in a position to be able to afford the travel expenses, and so they go to visit perhaps twice a year.

Alas, I have neither the vacation time nor money to afford the trip, but after 22 years I'm long over due for a trip to Israel.

My wife, Debbie, lived in Israel from the age of nine to thirteen while her father was teaching an engineering course at Hebrew Univesity. She last visted, with her whole family, in 1996. They also crossed the border for a two-day side trip to Petra -- though I wouldn't recommend that particular excursion right at the moment with things being what they are. And they had some adventures in Jordan, even back during those heady days when many believed that peace was within grasp.

Did I notice in one of your replies to another correspondent that you now live at Sdot Yam. Well, there's another coincidence. Sdot Yam is the first place I lived in Israel; I was there from December 1979 until about June of 1980 -- when I went to Gilgal. but that's for another letter.

Shalom rav l'ach,
~Aaron Feldman

My mother, Shlomit, is a bat-meshek of Sdot Yam, and after my parents divorced, when I was 4, she's married another kibbutznik from G'vat, and afew years later, when I was 9, we went back to Sdot Yam.
I lived there untill 2 years ago, when, following my weird situation, trying to get a visa to the UK (see journal), I needed a job, and my dad took me in for afew months. I gave up on the visa, and my husband came to live with me in Jerusalem about a year ago.
Your stories of Etti bring up a spark of recognition, but I'm not sure...
As for picking fruit- I'll never forget the feeling of throwing a watermelon on the packing shed's floor and eating it with my hands, straight out of its shell, on a hot summer day, after packing for the last few hours. Or going on Shabbat to water the cotton fields... modern pioneers we were there, eh?
Oh, and walking bare feet to the pool in the middle of a hot summer's day. I remember my grandparents looking at me oddly for not wearing anything on my little feet, I was just used to the boiling asphalt. I think alot of the visitors thought we were charity cases. My grandparents used to bring us chocolate that we never had. I remember we've only got a TV when I was 8, never mention a phone...
I don't envy you for your life in the States. I know I'm immeresed in the culture, and I like great parts of it. But it is despairing, to live here in this day and age...which is what I've meant. The economy, the securit, the heat, even...it's all so despairing.

Elly: My mother, Shlomit, is a bat-meshek of Sdot Yam, and after my parents divorced, when I was 4, she’s married another kibbutznik from G’vat, and a few years later, when I was 9, we went back to S'dot Yam.

Aaron: You know, now that you mention it I have some memory of your mom coming from S’dot Yam. In fact, while I was a kita aleph student in the ulpan at S’dot Yam (my morah was Nina Nir and the kita gimel morah was Rena) they recommended that I visit Gilgal because of some young people from S’dot Yam who were now living there. Perhaps it was your parents; I no longer remember.

As someone who is also a child of divorced parents I know how hard this can be. I hope that your parents are able to maintain a friendly relationship -- at least for your sake.

Tell me more about what life has been like at S’dot Yam over the last 23 years. Although I was only there for six months my memories are vivid. Does “Mexico City” still exist, even without the volunteers? That was the old, original housing of the kibbutz, built in the 1940s and early ’50s. When I was there in the early 1980s that section of the kibbutz was used to house volunteers and affectionately given the above humorous name for obvious reasons. Just like at Kibbutz Yael they call their old, original housing Ha’Tikva for reasons which I’m sure are not lost on you.

Elly: I lived there until 2 years ago, when, following my weird situation, trying to get a visa to the UK (see journal), I needed a job, and my dad took me in for a few months. I gave up on the visa, and my husband came to live with me in Jerusalem about a year ago.

Aaron: Mazal Tov on your marriage. Are you now a student in Jerusalem? Do you get back to S’dot Yam often? What about Gilgal? do you ever travel there?

Why did Gilgal lose so much of its population? Was it due to the general malaise that the kibbutz movement has suffered over the past decade? How many live there now and who maintains all of the areas of the kibbutz that need tending?

Elly: Your stories of Etti bring up a spark of recognition, but I’m not sure...

Aaron: I’m sure that your parents will remember this family.

Elly: As for picking fruit — I’ll never forget the feeling of throwing a wa-termelon on the packing shed’s floor and eating it with my hands, straight out of its shell, on a hot summer day, after packing for the last few hours.

Aaron: Bidiyouk! Ani zocher et zeh mamash tov!

Elly: Or going on Shabbat to water the cotton fields ... modern pioneers we were there, eh?

Aaron: Indeed!

Elly: Oh, and walking barefoot to the pool in the middle of a hot summer’s day. I remember my grandparents looking at me oddly for not wearing anything on my little feet, I was just used to the boiling asphalt.

Aaron: I can feel the heat on the souls of my feet now.

Elly: I think a lot of the visitors thought we were charity cases. My grandparents used to bring us chocolate that we never had.

Aaron: I thought you were kings.

Elly: I remember we only got a TV when I was 8, never mention a phone...

Aaron: I don’t remember watching TV at Gilgal, but I do recall that when I lived at Kfar Charuv on Ramat Ha’Golan we used to watch Syrian television at night, and a couple of kibbutzniks who understood Arabic would translate for us (very heavy, hateful propaganda). It was always good for a laugh.

As for Israeli television, I was always rather partial to Ha’Chatul Shmulik. Given my limited Hebrew that was about my speed — and very cute.

And telephones: I remember the days of trudging down to the booth with a bag full of simonim. I’m told those days are long gone and almost every Israeli now wears a cell phone on his, or her, hip. Ah, these modern times!

Elly: I don’t envy you for your life in the States. I know I’m immersed in the culture, and I like great parts of it. But it is despairing to live here in this day and age ... which is what I meant.

Aaron: Perfectly understandable. I hope that you have good friends to talk to and pleasant places to retreat to, to forget — at least for awhile.

Elly: The economy, the security, the heat, even ... it’s all so despairing.

Aaron: Sigh! I wish I had better words of comfort for you.

Aaron: Parting thought: When I was at S’dot Yam I used to like walking over to the library late at night (which in those days was in a building right by the sea -- perhaps it still is today) and sitting up late reading (or just looking at the books if I couldn’t understand the text) and occasionally glancing up and looking out to sea.

A very sweet woman named Ahoova looked after us ulpan students. There was always something rather melancholy in her smile. She had lost her son in one of the too numerous wars and still bore her pain with a quiet sadness. Please give her my best wishes if you know her.

Cheers, ~Aaron Feldman

P.S.
I just realized from looking at some of the other postings on here that yesterday, Aug. 1, was your birthday, Elly.

Many happy returns of the day.

~Aaron

Thank you. It was a nice birthday.
I know both Kitty and Ahuva, and the library is still by the sea.
I'm not a student, and the way things are, I probably won't be for quite a while. We can't afford it.
I'll reply further later on...

Hi Ely,
Say, what ever became of you? I never did hear back fom you after August of last year. I hope all is well with you and your family.

Cheers, ~Aaron

Well, I'm now living in the UK with my husband and his family, waiting for my baby to be born sometime around Passover.
Had another birthday by now, me thinks...
How are you?

Hi Ely,
Mazal Tov on the impending birth of your baby.
Ho do you like living in the U.K.?
I hope that your family members are all doing well back in Israel.
What news do you hear from Sdot Yam?

Cheers, ~Aaron

I don't really get much news from Sdot Yam, to be honest. I talk to my mum about more personal things than the state of the Kibbutz.
I can't really say I *like* living in the UK, probably not all the country's fault, my personal circumstances could be blamed for it too. But it seems that from the British mandate the Israelis took the awful beaurocracy. Everything here moves very very slowly, which drives me mad!
My family's doing fine, as far as I know. I keep email and phone contact with them, as much as I can. I might see them after the baby's born, we haven't really discussed it in any length...
How are you? What are you up to these days?

I don't really get much news from Sdot Yam, to be honest. I talk to my mum about more personal things than the state of the Kibbutz.

Aaron: Oh well, I was just curious about what's up there.

I can't really say I *like* living in the UK, probably not all the country's fault, my personal circumstances could be blamed for it too.

Aaron: Ah, springtime strolling about the English countryside with a baby could be quite lovely.

But it seems that from the British mandate the Israelis took the awful beaurocracy. Everything here moves very very slowly, which drives me mad!

Aaron: Have you been frustrated in trying to establish residency?

My family's doing fine, as far as I know. I keep email and phone contact with them, as much as I can. I might see them after the baby's born, we haven't really discussed it in any length...
How are you? What are you up to these days?

Aaron: We're doing great! Our little guy is now 28 months old and cute as a button. This age is really alot of fun. Every day is a new discovery and its fun wathcing him take on his own personality. He's now in a gan two morrnings a week and he enjoys it very much.

Best wishes for the delivery...

Cheers, ~Aaron

Well, Sdot Yam is doing better financially since the new (relatively new) tiles factory, Caesar Stone was built and took off. It's making lots of money, though sadly only a small portion of the income goes to the benefit of the community, even though it's owned by the Kibbutz. It's also going through structural changes - Mexico City doesn't exist anymore, there are no more volunteers, either. A lot of the old houses were used by a tourism company that is still around but not making enough money, and now they're used as apartments for a big range of young singles and families. The Ulpan is part of those apartments. They're trying to privatise a lot of things, such as the laundry service, the food isn't free anymore, neither is the phone and a lot of other basic things. I find it sad, but this is a society trying to shake of socialism and move on into the 21st century. More over, the working population doesn't approve of financially supporting the dependant population, so the saying of "each member contributes according to their ability and recieves according to their needs" doesn't seem to apply anymore. I'm happy not to be a Kibbutznik these days, 'coz though I find it a good place to raise a child, I don't like the seclusion, into which I and my generation grew. When I lived with my husband in Jerusalem I had to learn everything- how to pay taxes, bills, where to go, who to ask, what to do and not do, and we know nothing. It's really frightening when you find out how far from real life you are.

I haven't tried to establish residency here, I have a German passport so I can basically stay as long as I like. I prefer not to get into much details, since I don't believe my personal problems should be on a public site.

Your son sounds delightful. How many children do you have? I think after this one I'll take a very long rest from having more kids. This pregnancy wasn't easy. I'm just anxiously waiting for the birth.

Well, Sdot Yam is doing better financially since the new (relatively new) tiles factory, Caesar Stone was built and took off.

Aaron: Ah yes, the tile factory. I worked there for a time as an ulpan student and have a scar on one my knuckles to prove it. Have they built a new addition or replaced the entire factory?

It's making lots of money, though sadly only a small portion of the income goes to the benefit of the community, even though it's owned by the Kibbutz. It's also going through structural changes.

Aaron: Where does the rest go to now? Private salaries and wages? Outside stockholders? Creditors?

Mexico City doesn't exist anymore, there are no more volunteers, either.

Aaron: No more Mexico City? Oh my, those were historic buildings, especially the old green shacks that were part of the original housing -- even if they were in decrepit condition. Yes, I've heard that many of the kibbutzim no longer take volunteers. When I was there I heard many complaints about the social problems created by large volunteer populations. I guess they decided that it was no longer worth it. But how do the kibbutzim fill the large labor shortage that existed then and must certainly be even larger now with kibbutz population down as well?

A lot of the old houses were used by a tourism company that is still around but not making enough money, and now they're used as apartments for a big range of young singles and families. The Ulpan is part of those apartments.

Aaron: I'm wondering which ones you mean. When I was there there was such a range of housing constructed from the 1950s to '80s, with young singles in the older housing and people moving up through the housing stock with seniority and family size. I wonder if I'd recognize the place anymore. Say, is the old kids' railroad still making the circuit?

They're trying to privatize a lot of things, such as the laundry service, the food isn't free anymore, either is the phone and a lot of other basic things.

Aaron: Well, it was never free. Even if the members didn't pay money for those services they sure worked plenty hard to share them. When I was there the famous sculptor who lives there (her name escapes me at the moment) had her studio in the old 1950s chader ochel. I came across her Web site a few months ago and I see that she now has some pretty fancy digs.

I find it sad, but this is a society trying to shake off socialism and move on into the 21st century.

Aaron: Yes, I find it sad too. It appears that today the more economically solvent the kibbutz the more it is able to preserve it's traditional collective infrastructure. Frankly, I think that the kibbutzim were even more economically efficient by pooling and sharing their wealth. It wasn't the collective economies that killed this way of life it was the overreaching into capitalist debt.

More over, the working population doesn't approve of financially supporting the dependant population, so the saying of "each member contributes according to their ability and recieves according to their needs" doesn't seem to apply anymore.

Aaron: Where does that leave the founding members? Too old now to work, they built a collective economy whose continuity was their assurance of a pension and care in their declining years.

I'm happy not to be a Kibbutznik these days, 'coz though I find it a good place to raise a child, I don't like the seclusion in which I and my generation grew. When I lived with my husband in Jerusalem I had to learn everything - how to pay taxes, bills, where to go, who to ask, what to do and not do, and we knew nothing. It's really frightening when you find out how far from real life you are.

Aaron: Yea, but having to wade through all that nonsense could lead one to appreciate life back on the kibbutz all the more.

I haven't tried to establish residency here. I have a German passport so I can basically stay as long as I like. I prefer not to get into much details, since I don't believe my personal problems should be on a public site.

Aaron: Gottcha.

Your son sounds delightful. How many children do you have?

Aaron: He is our first and only so far, though we talk about having at leat one more. His name is Jacob Chaim, but we call him Kobi.

I think after this one I'll take a very long rest from having more kids.

Aaron: Sounds like a plan. Their a delight, but you're definately moving into a whole new chapter of life.

This pregnancy wasn't easy. I'm just anxiously waiting for the birth.

Aaron: May it be an easy one. My wife, Debbie, used a midwife at a hospital birthing center. The environment was much more pleasant than many hospital settings and the constant individualized care from a midwife trumps the comings and goings of doctors -- although they're there in the building should anything go wrong.

Aaron: My brother and his family are in Israel now visiting his wife's family -- in fact they left the day after Yassin was dispatched to join his brotherhood in Hell. I see from reports that there have been a lot of tourist cancellations of late, so I guess they'll have quiet beaches in Eilat. Let's hope things remain quiet, though I see from reading The Jerusalem Post and Ha'aretz online that
the monsters are trying. A number of terrorist attempts have been thwarted thanks to the vigalance of the IDF and border police. Let's hope for better days to come, for the sake of all of these childen's futures.

Cheers, ~Aaron

I'll start at the end- my military service was between 1996-1997, and I was serving in Ramallah at a very bad, disturbing time indeed. I hope, since the news here barely discuss Israel, things aren't as bad as they were back then. And the tourism business alwasy suffers in Israel, it's not anything new, especially since Intifada #2 started...
And back to the beginning- my granpa worked in the tiles factory! Not sure on when, he did work in the banana plantations for years, then moved to the factory. For a while both factories worked alongside eachother, but the tiles didn't stand the competition and the factory closed a few years back...
The money goes to cover costs for Caesar Stone and to pay hired workers' salaries. That's how we get over shortage in workers, by the way, we just hire from the outside, as usual...
Volunteers brought drugs with them, sometimes even worse problems than that, and were more of an expense than an income. They've decided to drop the program over more than 10 years ago, though some of them did come back, even to settle in the Kibbutz.
The railroad's gone, too. It was more of a hazard than anything else, so they just took it apart. I think you'd still recognise the library and dining room area (where the Yael Artzi studio still is), but not much more than that.
The founding members are taken care of, but all the artists of sorts can't just sit around painting and sculpting, they have to make some sort of a living for themselves.
Going through the taxes and bills makes you realize what a sheltered existance you've had so far, and wonder wether you want to keep living like that or not. I didn't.
Delivery here is totally ran by the midwife. The doctors are around, but unless something goes wrong, you're in the care of the midwife. Problem is there are never enough midwives per ward, so I hope I won't have much of a competition for attention when I do get there...
Just one child? You sound like you have more. We're thinking of naming him Ryan, though I'm warming to Nathan and Matthew, too. My favorite name is Jonathan, but my husband hates it. We've decided to wait untill we see him and then decide.

I'll start at the end. My military service was between 1996-1997, and I served in Ramallah at a very bad, disturbing time indeed.

Aaron: What was your job in Ramallah? That is, if you can discuss it.

I hope, since the news here barely discusses Israel, things aren't as bad as they were back then.

Aaron: No, I think it's improving. Despite the threats by Hamas it appears to be greatly crippled in it's efforts to respond with violence. The BBC and British papers are atrociously anti-Israel. American papers are also largely biased and incomplete, although not as hostile to Israeli inerests as those in Britian, which is why I read Israeli papers online. Many of the Hebrew language papers are available to you online.

And the tourism business always suffers in Israel, it's not anything new, especially since Intifada #2 started...

Aaron: Yes, but tourism had been steadily improving, so this is a setback, but probably a short-lived glitch.

And back to the beginning - my granpa worked in the tiles factory! Not sure when. He worked in the banana plantations for years, then moved to the factory.

Aaron: What is his name? Perhaps I knew him.

For a while both factories worked alongside each other, but the tiles didn't stand the competition and the factory closed a few years back.

The money goes to cover costs for Caesar Stone and to pay hired workers' salaries.

Aaron: What about the profit? Operating expenses and salaries are before-profit overhead costs.

That's how we get over shortage in workers, by the way, we just hire from the outside, as usual.

Aaron: When I worked there in 1980 much of the workforce at Ceasaria Tile was made up of outside workers from surrounding communities. I think many of the men came in each day by bus from Hadera. Few volunteers worked there, but some of the ulpan students did in order to give us a taste for the variety of work availabe on the kibbutz to olim. Volunteers largely worked to supplement shoratges of hands in agriculture and services, like the kitchen.

Volunteers brought drugs with them,

Aaron: This I remember as a seious problem of concern to the kibbutz.

... sometimes even worse problems than that, and were more of an expense than an income.

Aaron: What other kinds of problems? I've noticed that in the years since I was there many Thais have come to Israel to work in agriculture, though mainly on moshavim. Do kibbutzim now employ them as well in increased numbers?

They decided to drop the program more than 10 years ago, though some of the volunteers did come back, even to settle in the Kibbutz.

The railroad's gone, too. It was more of a hazard than anything else, so they just took it apart.

Aaron: I hope no one was hurt. As I recall the railroad was quite old; I think it had been left behind by an Italian construction crew in the early 1950s. They had used it to move materials around their construction site, somewhere nearby up the coast.

I think you'd still recognise the library and dining room area (where the Yael Artzi studio still is), but not much more than that.

Aaron: Yael Artzi's studio (on her Web page) looks like a new building, although I guess it could be the same building extensively renovated. The building I remember hadn't yet been changed much. The new chader ochel (in 1980) had been built in the 1970s, with the dinning area on the second floor having large picture windows looking out on the beautiful view of the Mediterranean.

The founding members are taken care of, but all the artists of sorts can't just sit around painting and sculpting, they have to make some sort of a living for themselves.

Aaron: Well, that would certainly be as I remember it, though you had said previously that members no longer wanted to be responsible for dependents. Yael, of course, being a world-famous atist, doesn't appear to have any trouble earning a living and bings considerable prestige to the kibbutz and the cultural life of the country.

Going through the taxes and bills makes you realize what a sheltered existance you've had so far, and wonder wether you want to keep living like that or not. I didn't.

Aaron: Ahh, paradise! I miss it.

Delivery here is totally run by the midwife.

Aaron: That's good.

The doctors are around, but unless something goes wrong, you're in the care of the midwife. Problem is there are never enough midwives per ward, so I hope I won't have much of a competition for attention when I do get there...

Aaron: that's not so good.

Just one child? You sound like you have more.

Aaron: Nope, but we're thinking about it.

We're thinking of naming him Ryan, though I'm warming to Nathan and Matthew, too. My favorite name is Jonathan, but my husband hates it. We've decided to wait until we see him and then decide.

Aaron: Jonathan is a splendid name, and if you ever end up back in Israel a name that he can easily convert to Yonatan, Natan or Matti would be quite useful to him. It sounds like you aleady know that you're carring a boy. We waited to be surprised.

We're going to Chicago fo Pessach at the end of the week so if I don't hear from you by then mazel tov uvatslachem.

~Aaron

I hope you enjoy your Seder. I'm due any day now, so I don't know when I'll have time to write again here...
At the moment I'm tired so I'll just tell you my grandfather's name was Israel Meyer. He died a year ago, sadly. He was very happy about working in the tiles factory, and has also managed to break his hip into tiny pieces, twice, while working there. That was a true workoholic...

I hope you enjoy your Seder.

Aaron: Thanks. It will be fun seeing Debbie's many family members (cousins, aunts, uncles, brother and his wife, parents and grandmother) again as well. She traveled there last year but I haven't been to Chicago for a couple of years now. Kobi has many new cousins since I was last there.

I'm due any day now, so I don't know when I'll have time to write again here.

Aaron: I understand; best of luck.

At the moment I'm tired so I'll just tell you my grandfather's name was Israel Meyer. He died a year ago, sadly. He was very happy about working in the tiles factory, and had managed to break his hip into tiny pieces, twice, while working there. That was a true workoholic.

Aaron: I'm sory for your loss; his name doesn't ring a bell but so many people worked there. I'm glad he enjoyed his work, despite the danger. It's important to love the work that one does.

Chag samayach, ~Aaron

Re: Our discussion the other day on the changes taking place in kibbutz society, I thought that you might find interesting this article that I just came across in the online edition of The Jerusalem Post.

Ciao, ~Aaron
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Kibbutzim to adopt capitalism
By MATI WAGNER


The cabinet approved Sunday capitalist amendments to the rules governing kibbutzim.

Kibbutz members will now be able to legally register ownership of houses in their own names, and to find work outside the kibbutz and keep all of their salary.

In order to maintain their status as cooperatives, the kibbutzim promised the government that all assets would remain in kibbutz ownership.

However, kibbutz members would be allowed to own shares in industry.

All ministers voted in favor of the amendments except Minister-without-Portfolio Uzi Landau, Education Minister Limor Livnat, and Immigration Absorption Minister Tzipi Livni, who abstained, although they supported the transformation of the kibbutzim in principle.

They said they had received the Ben-Rafael Committee recommendations the same day of the vote and did not have the time to review them.

Landau said he wanted the revamping to include a cabinet decision for reforms in other sectors of society such as public housing tenants.

However, Prime Minister Ariel Sharon pressed for a vote on the recommendations of the committee, which began its work a year and a half ago.

Industry, Trade, and Labor Minister Ehud Olmert is responsible for implementing the decision.

"It may sound corny but this is an historical day," said Gavri Bargil, joint secretary of the kibbutz movement along with Natan Tal.
Olmert said the decision represents the most important social revolution of recent decades.

Bargil presented to the cabinet the recommendations of the Ben-Rafael Committee, named after its head, Professor Eliezer Ben-Rafael, a sociologist at Tel Aviv University who studied the social transformation underwent in kibbutzim during the 1990s.

"The ministers had an in-depth discussion of the report for over two hours," said Bargil, 45, of Kibbutz Ramat Menashe, near Yokne'am.

"I was a bit surprised that a right-wing government would have so much admiration for the kibbutz movement. It was obvious the nation's best interest guided them in their decision, and that was very heartwarming.

"I think the prime minister's own faith in the settlement movement elevated the level of discussion."

Of 260 kibbutzim, 60 percent – called kibbutzim in renewal (mit'hadshim) – want varying degrees of capitalist reforms.

Natan Tal, 59, a fourth-generation kibbutznik from Shefayim, north of Tel Aviv, said that after years of shrinking populations as youth abandoned the kibbutzim, 2003 was the first year more people joined than left.

"Over the past two years almost 2,000, the vast majority under 30, joined kibbutzim," he said.

"Israeli youth is searching for a tight-knit community with lofty ideals and a strong feeling of mutual responsibility, which is also economically viable." Tal added that in coming years, the kibbutz will undergo tremendous upheaval.

But it will adhere to five basic principles that are its raison d'etre.

All members will be entitled to education, health care, welfare, pension rights, and care for members with special needs.

"Each kibbutz must draft up its own code of rules. This is going to take a while. But I envision the kibbutz movement returning to its rightful place as a central molder of Israeli society," said Bargil.

I've gone into labour on April 1st and have only now managed to read your last two posts.
This process of capitalising the kibbutz, if you will, has been happening in the last decade or so, and has eliminated a fair number of kibbutzim that couldn't really keep up with the changes while remaining a kibbutz.
I find it sad, but necessary. Even in Israel, it seems, socialism has died. I still remember the May 1st celebrations in the kibbutz, with the red and white flags, sporting events and red army songs, all set in the fields that are full of green new wheat. I thought it was wonderful. It was really border-line communism, I guess.
I can't say when exactly they've stopped doing it, but I did miss it as a child.
Understanding more now, in hind sight, I can see how surreal it all seems when you try and match those ideals with reality. I just saw on TV the other day a story about a kibbutz selling the "kibbutznik experience" to anyone willing to pay. They take you back to the old fashioned kibbutz, as it was in the 50's, and everybody's eating in the dining room, dressed like halutzim (pioneers)in blue and khaki, and I felt sick to my stomach. I see it as cynical use of what's left of the past.