Tel Aviv Diary - September 29-October 3, 2013 - Karen Alkalay-Gut
September 29, 2013 Bureaucracy with the university demanded that I return to the public sphere today and running around I encountered number old friends. All of them were relieved to be back at work after the holiday. Some were just mildly happy because their children have gone back to school and no longer need to be entertained, or their grandchildren no longer have to be babysat all day. But others swore to me that they will never expose themselves to the agonies of constant family again. No more extended holidays in Israel. This one was particularly difficult because children had a 3 week vacation after one week of school, but there is in general something wrong with the system where most adults work but most official organizations don't operate, or only operate on a very basic level. There are a few doctors in their offices, but they can't DO anything because they can't really get tests done. The university itself was shut down for 2 weeks. So you see all these people walking around with stacks of books they took out three weeks ago from the library for papers that are due today. Try to get your phone fixed, talk to the government, set up appointments, etc. Friends lose touch after the long summer and the family-oriented holidays. I know the relief we feel at getting back to normality will fade to exhaustion soon, but the phenomenon is remarkable. This set-up must create an enormous economic burden on the society as well, and there are certainly better ways to celebrate such significant events. September 30, 2013 Today was the big trial for the sunshade Ezi had built over our car and two of the neighbors' cars. Court case. The lawyer advised us to take the twenty-thousand-odd shekel fines and tear down the structure. After two years of no-one listening to our alternative offers of making it retractable, hearings, and lots of lawyers' fees, we seem to have lost. Ezi had the frame and plastic-burlap tent built because of his own fragility and the need for avoiding sun and excessive heat, believing the contractors' promises that the structure was legal and in fact quite common, and noting that there were much larger sun shades in the neighborhood. For me it doesn't matter much whether we have a cover over our car, but it is incredibly convenient, and our other neighbors are all quite elderly and frail, with heart surgery and cancer in their recent past. The prosecuting attorney was young and healthy and didn't see a need for protection from the sun and rain. Sad. See, were I the mayor, I would not focus on something so trivial, but would have put my energy in regulating bicycles and their traffic. The concept of registering bicycles, regulating where and how they ride, and enforcing lighting for them at night seem to me to be far more important that whether someone puts up a shade in their own parking lot. Of course the public bikes are great, but when they suddenly appear crossing a zebra crossing like a pedestrian when I didn't even see them coming, or they run over my toe on the sidewalk, I wish someone was taking care of them. October 1, 2013 Missed Panic Ensemble last night at the Container. Probably their best night, from the pictures. Haven't had time to find out. My schizophrenic neighbor (the Auschwitz grad) received an anonymous letter warning her to stop screaming at night. What else can she do when a prominent newscaster comes into her paintings while she's working on them and tries to express himself with screams? He's going to be president soon, she tells me. I told her to shut her windows. After all, she's been crazy ever since I've lived here - almost 35 years - and she's managed to avoid institutionalization. I can't imagine being comfortable in an institution after Auschwitz. And maybe she can placate the neighbors with muted tones. All she has left is her wretched flat. Me, I don't hear her any more. October 2, 2013 Having spent the afternoon with Leah Goldberg's poem, "The Land that I Love" ארץ אהבתי I suddenly realized that the beautiful romantic song that was made of this poem had nothing at all to do with Israel or any other land. I was diverted by the fact that there is a verse or two missing, and the lovely melody is played mostly on holidays. But the original is a completely different poem. It is about not being recognized and not having the opportunity to give of oneself. Just like all the writers I know in foreign languages, and some of the writers who do not write mainstream in Israel. so my first translation - according to the musical version - went like this:
In the land I love
In the land I love
But who has eagle eyes to see him,
In the land I love
Then the people who asked for the translation sent me the original version and it came out differently:
In the land of my love
In the land of my love
But who has eagle eyes to see him,
I sleep and my heart still stirs,
The missed opportunity, the lost chance, being passed by, while a new culture is being created. A grad student of mine spent the morning talking to me about her thesis - Emily Dickinson and Fadwa Tuqan - the anonymous woman writer. A perfect day.
The almond tree is blooming.
In the land I love
a guest is expected.
Seven maids,
Seven mothers,
Seven brides wait at the gate.
A flag flies from the tower.
To this beloved land of mine
A visitor will arrive.
It will be a good time,
A blessed time
A time to ease all sadness.
Whose wise heart will recognize him?
Who will not be mistaken,
Who will not err,
Who will open the door?
There’s flag on the turret
To the land I love
A pilgrim will come
In a good hour, a blessed hour
Soothing all cares and woes
The almond tree is blooming.
In the land of my love
a guest is awaited.
Seven maids,
Seven mothers,
Seven brides wait at the gate.
A flag flies from the turret.
To this beloved land of mine
A guest will arrive.
In a good hour, a blessed hour
Soothing all cares and woes
Whose wise heart will recognize him?
Who will not be mistaken,
Who will not stumble,
Who will open the door?
The guest passes before my door.
And in the morning light
In the back yard
A lone stone rolls by.