Teaching Music
December 1 ,2015
Bar Mitzvah
“Big Nail and Small Nail were neighbors” Dad started, “Big Nail was very rich and Small Nail was very poor.”
We were sitting around him at the yard in front of and Rachel and uncle Rone’s house. All the kids of our family loved to hear Dad’s stories. He was a great storyteller, and he also did some magic tricks the little kids loved even more.
“Big Nail had a big flock of beautiful sheep. Small Nail had only one cute little sheep. He loved his sheep and took care of her. He shared his food with her and protected her like his child. One day, Big Nail invited a few friends for a party. He wanted to feed them but by no means did he wish to waist any of his sheep for the dinner party. He had to get the sheep from Small Nail. And so, he did. In the middle of the night, he stole the sheep from Small Nail and roasted it for his dinner party.
“No way, cried Batyah, Aunt Rachel’s daughter.
“Well,” said Dad, “it wasn’t the only bad thing he did. He tried to take over Small Nail’s grape vine.”
“Horrible!” Said Batyah.
“But when the king who was one of the guests heard what had happened. The king became very upset. He took everything the Big Nail owned and gave it to Small Nail.
I am not sure why did Dad call them Nails but, hey, it is his story. (Not exactly, I am not sure how he got it, it has some biblical roots, but Dad was very young when he left school.)
“Nanou!” I heard Mom calling, “come back in we need to get you ready for the party tonight. Aunt Rachel can’t wait to wash you.” Yup, embarrassing, it is a mitzvah to wash the Bar-Mitzvah Groom.
“OK Mom, I am coming. Dad, tell them the Jukitah story, the little ones didn’t hear it yet and the older ones will love hearing it again.”
It was the day of my Bar-Mitzvah Party. Mom and Dad decided to make it a small party because of the death of Uncle Claude they didn’t want to upset Meme Milli. So, the next day we would be taking a bus to Jerusalem.
For a year now I had been preparing for this moment. Well, maybe two years. Even before the war, I have started to go to the synagogues in the neighborhood. Every Friday evening and every Saturday morning, I visited one or another synagogue, until I found my favorites. Two buildings next to our building we had a Moroccan synagogue. It was a low ceiling, dark room of a small hut. I went there three times, and every time was afraid to walk in. The people there didn’t look happy, most of them were old and were dressed like monks with a long dress and a hood over their heads. I didn’t feel welcomed, they looked at me as if I came to cause trouble.
One of the synagogues I liked was practicing a Tunisian / Algerian tradition. It was located close to a home for the handicap on the border with Avihayil. A group of orphans was attending there every Friday evening and Saturday morning. They were walking about 2 miles each way with their school director all the way from their orphanage. They knew the prayers and most of the time lead the service with the cantor. I asked the cantor to teach me and help me get ready for my Bar-Mitzvah, but he said he was too busy and gave me a name of some other Moroccan Rabbi who specialized in preparing kids for their Bar-Mitzvah. He attends the Libyan (Tripolitanian) synagogue closer to my house. Are you confused yet?
The synagogue I attended every morning the summer before was Ashkenazic where I learned The Talmud. Or at least tried to. They had two rabbis there. One who worked with us on the Mishnah and told us wonderful stories. I wanted to become like him when I grew up. The other one taught us the Gemarah all in Aramaic and he always insisted I pray before studying. I had no idea what I was doing. What to read, when to stand, and when to sit or sing out loud. I gave up on them quickly. Sometimes I wished I stayed at Neve Shalom and studied with the Yemenite rabbi where we were all sited around the table with one book in the center, reading together from the big old bible. I finally decided to join the Libyan synagogue.
There were a few reasons for me to choose the Libyan Synagogue. The fist reason was, it was close to my house, less than a mile. On the way I found a Pitango bush and always had some snack on the way there and back. The service was easier to follow. They didn’t have the frills of the Tunisians. They didn’t read the vowels in the Ashkenazic way or the Yemenite. It was simple and friendly. My favorite part was the “Kabablat Shabat” The welcoming of the Shabat with songs. We would sit in a circle and each one of us would, in turn, sing a verse or two of the songs and all would join in with the refrains. On Shabat when it came the time to read the Torah, it was fun to see the auctioning of the “Torah Portions”. No, we didn’t cut the Torah to pieces. Reading a part of the Torah is an honor. Since the Synagogues in Israel don’t charge membership, the only way for them to survive is by selling Torah Portions and donations. For my Bar Mitzvah Dad bought some silver decorations for the Torah Scrolls of that synagogue. And of course, he bought the auction, and all my close family shared the Torah Portions. The blessing “Mi SheBerach” is a blessing for the sick or any special event. The Rabbi would bless the sick or the honorary person who just came to read the Torah and of course mention the price of the donation made by the family member. The Libyans had a funny way to pronounce the letter R it was almost like a saying the letter G. And for some reason when the Rabbi would bless you, he would stress his Libyan accent even more so. I couldn’t hold myself and had to giggle. Maybe he did it just to draw some laughs, I guess I will never know.
Anyway, after the “washing of the groom” I was dressed up by Aunt Mary, the new shirt and pants were custom made by a fancy tailor in Netanya. I had to go see him three times last month for fittings and adjustments. Uncle Rone was testing his tape recorder. He wanted to record me telling my speech “D’var Torah”. I worked on it for a long time. My teacher wasn’t a very nice person. Every time I forgot some line or a melody, he would smack my hand or even slap my face. That wasn’t fun, so I was very happy not to see him anymore when I was ready to deliver my speech and my Torah Reading.
“This day, God has created IS a day for celebration.” I opened my speech.
“IS!” said Uncle Moshe. “Did you guys hear how he said IS?”
“Shut up Morris!” Interrupted him Ant Mary. “Let him finish his talk.”
I spoke about the Torah portion and about the feeling of getting older. Thanking my parents and everyone who helped me get here. Of course, everyone had clapped their hands and it was time for gifts and dinner.
“Nanou!” Called Mom when I was trying my first cigarette. “Come I want you to meet your older brother.”
“My what?” I coughed the first and the last breath I took of the cigarette. “Who?”
“Your brother, I had him when I was about your age.”
“You were married before Dad?”
“No, silly! You see this is Moshe, Like my brother Moshe. His mother, the older woman over there, had hard time delivering babies. She had 4 miscarriages, and 2 babies died right after birth. So, we came up with a solution. We thought, maybe she was cursed so all her kids would die. Therefore, if someone would buy her future kid, the child might survive because it wouldn’t be her child. I quickly volunteered to buy him as soon as she was pregnant, I offered to buy her baby for 1 Lira. So, you see? This is my first son. He was born healthy and lives for 18 years now.”
“Nice to meet you!” I extended my hand to shake his.
“It was a nice speech!”
“Thanks!”
“I expect you to do the same tomorrow.”
I found an ashtray and put out that first and last cigarette. That was not a fun experience, it reminded me the pipe I made when I was six years old from the branches of the castor tree. I was coughing for half an hour just from the smell of the grass I stuffed in it.
“The bus Mom and Dad rented was waiting for us early in the morning. Everyone came to the driveway next to Aunt Rachel’s house and before seven AM we were on our way to Jerusalem. This time we drove the short way; through Hebron and we stopped at the burial cave of our ancestors. Before the 6 Days War we had to drive around, almost to Tel Aviv and then turn sharp east toward the Holly City. Now the west bank of the Jordan River was again in the hands of the people of Israel. I remember, shortly after the war how the Arab towns next to Netanya were opened for Israelis. They were practically cheering us as we walked in. They had opportunity to make more money. We brought more busines to them and they were happy. At least for now.
Both sides of our family were on the bus Mom’s brothers and sisters and their families. As well as Dad’s sisters, and both my grandmothers. After spending a half hour in the patriarch’s cave and another pit stop for all the boys on the side of the road, we made it to Jerusalem. I can’t explain the excitement we all felt as we entered the old city. As we walked across the invisible line where just a few years ago I saw the Jordanian guards. We walked through the long and crowded market and avoided with difficulty the peddlers who were promising the best price for the souvenirs they were selling.
Once we arrived at the western wall, I don’t think I saw one pair of dried eyes. All of us were holding our tears even the little kids. We found a rabbi with a reading stand next to the” Mechitzah” - divider between women and men. I handed the new camera Uncle Moshe gave me back to him and asked him to take some pictures. Mine was one of the first Bar Mitzvahs performed at the Western wall since it was back at the hands of the people of Israel. I read my Torah Portion proudly and shook the hand of the rabbi. I walked to the divider and received kisses from Mom and my grandmothers. As much as I hoped all my school friends would have been partying with me like most of the kids, I was so proud to have such an experience. All the way back home I was in a daze, I forgot about the other places we visited on that trip. I forgot about the dome of the rock, or the Rachel’s tomb, and how much mom enjoyed haggling with the peddlers in the market. I just had my Bar Mitzvah at the most holly place of the Jewish people.
***
The “Kibbutz”
“Moving again?” I asked mom.
“Well,” said mom, “yes, and we will be moving again after that in the summer.”
“Why? Haven’t we moved enough? We have our own house.”
“We bought a new house, down the road, much bigger, on the 3rd floor.”
“Will I have to change school again?”
“No, we will move to the “Kibbutz” in Ein HaThelet for a few months until the new house is ready for us. You will be riding the bicycle to school. We rented a small house for the next few months in the back yard of a house next to your friend Avi Dagan.”
“In the early 20th century way before the city of Netanya was established, there was a little Kibbutz on a cliff overlooking the sea. It had a three-floor building right over the cliff. It was used to help the new pilgrims find their way to the shore during the British mandate. Depending on which window was lit at night the pilgrims knew if it was safe or dangerous to land ashore.
Once they city of Netanya was formed, the kibbutz was dissolved and became part of the city. Some of the residents still live there, my former classmate Avi Dagan’s family was one of them. At first, we weren’t good friends, I think he was jealous of my friendship with Dafna. But later on, we became friends and kept in touch after I switched schools. We both were in the same science club. We experimented with all kinds of projects, but my favorites were always electronics, radio, communication.
One day, after we moved to the house close to his, I came to Avi and handed him a speaker I took of an old radio. Put it in your room I told him, and I showed him how to fasten a cable to the connections on the speakers. We extended the cable all the way to my house where I had another speaker.
“Wait here,” I said, “just listen to the speaker.”
“Nothing is coming out of it”
“Nothing yet. Just wait.” I said and left for my house.
“Avi! Can you hear me? Over.” I called onto the speaker in my room.
“Wow! Yes, I can hear you perfectly.” Avi Dagan answered in surprise. “How did you do that?”
“Well, I read in one of my hobby books that speakers have a coper reel around a magnet and when we speak to it the membrane moves the reel and creates electricity, just enough to transmit my voice.”
“That is amazing! Now we need to set up a way we can call each other. Like when we come back from school or when we get up in the morning.”
“No problems, we will run one more thread with cans on each end and a big nail hanging in the middle. When we pull on it, it will shake and ring.”
“Great!”
We ended up talking to each other every afternoon. We even helped each other with our homework.
Avi Dagan also invited me to join this youth organization called “HaShomer HaTza’ir” – The Young Watchman. We had fun there. We Sang songs every Friday night at the gatherings and even did some Israeli folk dancing. On occasions we would have activities on Saturday evenings too. One of them was a color war. We split into two groups and had a task to get each other flags. We spread out next to the “Tubruk” water tower, a little north of where the town summer camp was. I remember crawling toward the other group but then someone jumped on me from behind and tagged me. The next day the group leader came to our house and tried to convince my parents to allow me to go to a long weekend trip. Mom didn’t think it was safe and didn’t let me go. Anyway, I gave up on the “Young Watchman” because I learned that this was a lefty political party, almost communistic. They wanted to return all the land we just freed back to the Arabs.
I tried another group, the “Maccabi” They were related to another political party. Actually, the one that was in power – the Labor Party. I didn’t like them either. They required uniforms and were too much like a military organization. Avi Dagan didn’t hold it against me, and we kept on playing with our home made “telephone”. This short move to the “Kibbutz” had one good result, I got to walk home with Ya’el. I discovered that Ya’el lived on my way home one day, when I rode the bike a little after school and saw her walking home. I stopped the bike so hard it made a black mark on the road.
“Hey!” I said.
“Hey!” she replied.
“Can I walk with you?” I bravely asked.
“Sure, I didn’t know you live that way.”
“It’s temporary.” We are moving to our new house next month.
For the next few weeks, we walked together every day and loved talking about many subjects but especially got to sing our way in harmony. But I could never brave it up to ask her out.
“Earlier that year we took a state mandated test, something like the SAT, but for younger kids. It had 300 questions. It covered math, Bible, history, Hebrew language, and we also had to write an essay. The essay I wrote was a short sic-fi fiction story about a kid who flew to Mars and met with some creatures, I don’t remember … But I do remember that on the next day when all the answers for the test were published to my surprise I had only two mistakes out of the 300 hundred questions. We practically forgot about it until Moshe Kotler announced one day; “Kids, I just received the results of the Standard Tests. It will help us figure out where will you be when time for high school time comes up. The kids with the high scores will be able to go to the any school they want. Unfortunately, the kids with the lower scores will not have such a great choice and might have to join the work force or go to a trade school. When I call you by name please come up and get your score and be dismissed to go home.
I waited patiently as Moshe Kotler was calling one child after the other. He went alphabetically but he skipped my name.
“Hey!” I called out, “You skipped me!”
“Yes, I know, wait till the end, I need to talk with you.”
As soon as everyone left Moshe Kotler told me he was not going to give me the results unless I come with my Mom the next morning before school starts. Needless to say, Mom had a fit and wacked me over the head. There was no bus service from the Kibbutz to my school. Mom had to walk with me pushing my little baby brother’s carriage while I walked by holding the bicycle.
“I don’t know how he did it,” said Moshe Kotler to my Mom as we sat down. “We never had such a score in our school.”
“Well, we know he doesn’t have good grades, he can’t concentrate, so you made me come all the way here by foot to tell me my son didn’t pass the test?”
“I am sorry, I didn’t know you had to walk so far, but that is not why I asked you to come here. Your son passed the test like no one else in our school history.”
“What?” I screamed. “I knew I passed it long ago, I found two mistakes.”
“Three,” said Moshe Kotler. “We have a dilemma, the schools you applied to turned you down. I think you should set up a meeting with the schools’ psychologist, he will guide you to what to do next, according to him you also have a very high IQ. Anyway, congratulations! Go join your classmates, the bell is about to ring.”
Mom walked back home, not knowing what to think or what to do to me next. On my way home I was dreading what will happen when I get there but walking with Ya’el was comforting. “I am going to ask her out today.” I was sure of it. But this time she was the one who talked almost the whole way. Except for when she asked me about the results of the test. All I said was that I passed it. I didn’t mention what the score was or the whole story of my Mom coming to school. When we finally got to her house, she was about to walk home I gathered all my courage and asked; “Ya’el, do you have a boyfriend?”
“No,” she said, “we can talk about it tomorrow.”
Unfortunately, there was no tomorrow. I was so excited I jumped on my bike and drove off without paying attention to where I was driving. I totally missed the pothole and the bike flipped over. I flew in the air and fell as the bike handle hit my collar bone. The pain almost took my breath away. With a lot of difficulties, I got up and started walking toward home dragging the bike with me. After about a mile I couldn’t handle it anymore. I knocked on the first door I saw in front of me and asked for a cup of water. The woman felt bad for me and offered me a chair to rest for a while. When I finally got home, mom saw my condition and totally forgot all about what happened at school that morning. She made me eat lunch and sent me to bed.
“Dad will be here soon, and he will take a look at you.”
Dad Just smiled and immediately said; “you broke your collar bone. I will make you a sling and tomorrow you will see a doctor.”
“There is nothing we can do about it, kid.” Said the doctor. “you are young, it will heal fast. You need to wear this sling for three weeks and rest. Here is a note for your school. You will have to stay home for the next week.”
Across the street from where we rented the house was a big villa owned by some French millionaire. It had a nice swimming pool and big windows opened all around the house it even had a Helicopter pad. As I was sitting on my chair looking at the sea, I saw many trucks coming over and unloading big equipment. It took about a day for them to set up. To my surprise they were shooting a movie. Some very famous French actors were in it. I asked them for their autographs, (I still have it in my memoir book). Yet, to my disappointment I learned that the actors in movies don’t necessarily know their lines. For each scene they had to shoot and reshoot so many times, the director was getting frustrated, and the actress was about to cry but after about a week as they were about to pack the equipment. We also were repacking our house and moved to the new apartment. No more walking home with Ya’el.
When I got back to class, and everyone was asking about my arm I heard Sarah Markovich whispering in my ear. “You know, she has a new boyfriend. Some big kid from high school.”
***
New Best Friend
After giving up on the two youth organizations, there was one more group I wanted to try. “The Scouts,” they were not affiliated with any political party and in fact, they are International.
Walking to the Scouts center took a while. It was on the south side of the town. As I was walking, I could hear the Shabat evening sounds of people’s forks or spoons hitting the plates and the sound of people blessing or singing Shabat songs. I wasn’t sure who to see or who to talk to when I get there. But as soon as I arrived, I realized I didn’t have to worry about it. Shlomit Bar Menahem was there, as well as Nehamah Lerner and Sarah Markovich who smiled at me as soon as she saw me. Everyone was dancing in a circle to the “Bon Fire Dance”. There was no music, so everyone was also singing the melody of the dance. Standing to the side of the entrance was a tall boy who reminded me someone I knew but couldn’t recall.
“Hi, my name is Haim.” I said and extended my hand. “You look familiar, where did I meet you?” As I was saying those words I realized, I never met him. He looked so much like an Israeli famous singer – Arik Einstein.
“I am Ephraim, but you may call me Efri.”
“You don’t dance?” I asked.
“Me? Never! Well, almost never, I dance slow dances with girls. See that long-haired blond in the circle? That’s my girlfriend, Hana. I dance with her,” he said smiling.
“I like dancing,” I said. “But I am too shy.”
“You like dancing?” Efri asked. “Then, why don’t you come with us after the activity? There is a party at Toshko’s house.”
“I don’t know Toshko.”
You don’t have to know him; we have a party every weekend at someone else’s house, and we don’t have to know everyone. We dance and have fun.”
“OK, I will come but I can’t stay long. I got to be home by 9:30.”
The party was fun, I got to meet a whole new group of people. They all lived on the southern side of the town where the middle-class people to upper class families live. They were in a different school. Most of them went to “Itamar Elementary” it is the school where I went for the science classes. The music was also fun, Toshko liked to play “oldies” music from the 50s mostly slow dances. I took a deep breath and asked a girl who was standing in the corner with a coke in her hand if she wanted to dance. To my surprise she agreed.
Her name was Azriella, and she also went to Itamar Elementary. We danced a few slow dances but kept our body in about an arm length from each other.
“I have to leave after this dance”. I said looking at my new watch I received from Mom and Dad for my Bar Mitzvah.
“Me too,” she said, “will you walk me home?”
“Sure!”
After saying goodbye to Efri, we walked for a while without talking. Her house was not too far from the party. I walked her all the way up the stairs to the fourth floor where she lived.
“Will you come to the party next week?” She asked. “It will be at Hana’s house.”
“I think so.”
“Great!” She said, she leaned over, gave me a kiss on the cheek and entered her house saying, “see you there.”
That week I was busy with high school searching. I met with the psychologist and he suggested I try a boarding school up north called “Meir Shfeya” after a philanthrope Meir the father of the Baron de Rothchild and an old Arab village the baron bought the ground from - Shfeya. It was an agricultural school where you study half the day and work the other half. Dad and I went to check the place. A bus to the old highway, and then another bus to Zikhron Yaakov. From there we took a cab to the school. The road from Zikhron Yaakov to Shfeya was a pretty one. First you had to take the windy road down the hill with small houses on each side. Once we passed the main valley road, we started our climb up. Again, very windy road but instead of little houses there were fruit groves on each side of the road. Just before we got to the top, we saw the tallest cypress I have ever seen. It was thick and dense, standing just next to the road. I remembered the logo of the school on the pamphlet, it had a drawing of a house next to a tall cypress. I was told it was the second tallest tree in Israel, right after the cedar Hertzel planted in Jerusalem.
“We have all kind of chores here at the school,” said the school director. He had a wooden left hand. I couldn’t take my eyes from it.
“Will I be working with the cows? Milking them?” I asked.
“Possibly,” he continued. “You might work with the chickens or at the vegetable garden. Depends on what you are good at. But this should not interfere with your schoolwork. You will have plenty of time to do your homework and even socialize with your new friends. Oh, that hand of mine you’ve been looking at...”
“Me?”
“Yes, I lost it in the war of independence.”
“Wow! A war hero!” I thought to myself. “The school’s director was a hero.”
I had a lot to think about, leave home and be independent, no more Mom on my case for doing my homework or giving me curfew. But then, I will be missing my brothers and my friends. Well, I will think about it, now I have to get ready for the party. Efri and I are meeting at his place and from there we will go to his girlfriend’s house.
“So, what do you think?” I asked Efri. “Should I go to that school?”
“I don’t know, how is your new girlfriend Azriella?”
“She is not my girlfriend, we just walked home together.”
“Hmmm…”
“Anyway, want to go to the beach together tomorrow?”
“Which one?”
“Ein HaThelet, with my father, my Mom doesn’t allow me to go to the beach on my own.”
“There is your answer, you need to get away from your mother. At that school she will not get on your case.”
“Hmmm…” I nodded. “Anyway, have your father drop you off at my place. We will go fishing and we will have sandwiches and have fun.
“Sure, now go dance with your girl, she keeps on looking this way.”
It was fun on the beach, Efri was late, but we managed to get a nice spot next to my father’s favorite fishing spot. Avi showed Efri how to catch worms. The sea was calm, we had no problems to swim in between the rocks and look at the pretty fish. After two hours we had our tuna sandwiches and took a long walk on the beach.
“Hey, do you have special sex education in your class? Asked Efri.
“I am not sure; I know that the nurse came to talk with the girls while we were having arts and crafts.”
“I picked at their class the other day,” said Efri. “They were talking about something the nurse called the time of the month.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you remember when Hana was yelling at me last party and we almost broke up?”
“Yes, I also saw Shulomit looking at you at the same time.”
“Shulomit Hacarmeli? Really? Not important now, Hana was having her time of the month.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“Every month girls have a few days when they kind of bleed and, I don’t know, but it hurts them, and they act weird. So, whenever I see Hana acting up, I stay away and carve my soap. Look at it,” he said and showed me a piece of soap he was carving, trying to make a ship.
“Nice! Doesn’t it melt in the water?”
“Yes, but I don’t use it to shower.”
“My Mom would never let me; I better find something else to carve as soft as soap. I love carving. Did you see the Soldier’s head I carved at arts and crafts? It is hanging on my wall. I also made a Hanukkiah with Uzi bullets my uncle gave me from the war.”
“Show me when we get back home. Shulomit, you said?”
“Yes, Shulomit the red head.”
Efri stayed for lunch and after an afternoon nap we walked toward his house.
“So, are you seeing Azriella again today?”
“Yes, we planned to meet down under her house at the Rio ice cream place.”
“And then what?” He asked
“I don’t know, we will probably take a walk on Hertzel Street, I don’t know.”
It was 10 minutes after 7:00 and I was on my second ice cream cone. Azriella was supposed to be downstairs at 6:30. I thought I saw her in her balcony for a moment, but she never came down. The gate to her building’s entrance was locked, so I couldn’t go up and knock on the door. I couldn’t call her; I didn’t know if she had a phone, (not everyone had a telephone yet). I waited until 8:00 and went to Hertzel Street for a long walk before going home. For the next few weeks Azriella didn’t show up to any of the parties and by the end of the summer I was ready to go to high school. I said goodbye to Efri and promised to write and visit him on the holidays. I was sure there would be many other girls to meet at the new school.
***
