“There are women who do not wish to survive living this way.” There is a heavy silence. What is he thinking? “How did you treat your wife?”
“You and I are different. We are on a difficult journey.”
“That is not an answer.”
He stares at me. “I was not a good husband. Then Abraham taught me.”
“Go on,” I urge him.
It takes a long time before he speaks. “I beat my wife. That is how it was in my family. My anger went into the beatings. She cried and I ignored it. It continued through the years of our marriage.” There are tears in his eyes. “I think it killed her.”
“Oh, Doron, I am so sorry.” I kiss him, then hold him in my arms until he stops crying.
He sits up. “You and I share the chores as well as being partners in music. It is an equal relationship. But I do not know if men are ready to hear what you have to say. You could be stoned, hurt, or killed, without any concern for me.”
“This has nothing to do with you.”
“I think it does, unless I am no longer your partner.”
“But you are not me.”
“So I do not count? They do not see me?”
My head is in my hands. “That is not what I mean. I wrote the words.”
“They do not know that. What if they think this song was my idea?”
“That is ridiculous. Men do not speak that way, do not think that way. Including you.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you are a man.” We study each other and break into laughter. “Let us pack up and get away from here.”
His face shows concern for me. “Can you accept the consequences?”
“Does it matter? If it needs to be, it needs to be. I will tell you my plan and then we can decide. After Mizpah we go to Ai, Bethel, Gilgal, and the surrounding communities. I would like to try the song in a few of those.” He has no response. “Then I want to make it an important moment in Shechem. That is the final concert, and when we finish, we go to my home and will not be performing anymore, so it will not matter.”
“What if the reactions are harsher than what happened before? What if you get hurt or worse? A large enough stone can break a bone.”
“You are concerned for me, and I for you. This is something I must do. I wish to have you by my side but if you choose not, I will value that.”
He snorts like an infuriated animal. “I will be by your side. I am not in agreement with what you wish to do. There is only misfortune ahead.”
“I understand and trust this is meant to be.”
“I hope you are right.”
I will hold my head high and not show my fear.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The first attempt at presenting my song is on a perfect evening in Ai, also known as the White City. Our audience does not approve of the words I sing. The women can recognize some of what is said but have no idea why I chose those words. Change is not in the women’s thinking. The men understand but laugh, they see me as a woman who does not grasp how things are done. No rocks or vegetables are thrown and there is no violence.
By the time we reach Bethel, word has spread. They wait for our arrival. Men pursue us from the time we reach the outskirts of the city. My hands go over my ears. I do not wish to listen to the horrible names they call me, but they cause no harm. They surround our tent as if to keep us imprisoned but do not cancel the concert. We do not sleep well.
The buzzing in the audience is the loudest of the entire journey. Doron’s suffering is obvious. His words sting, and he paces like a caged animal. I pray under my breath.
After the first few songs, the crowd settles down and begins to enjoy the presentation. We are closer to the end and the buzzing can be heard again. I wait until quiet comes, then begin my song.
When I finish singing, there is not a sound. The quiet is strange and scary. One woman stands and yells out. “Thank you. Yes, that is the way of our lives,” before her husband pulls her back into her seat, stands over her, and smacks her face as hard as he can.
Chaos breaks loose of its chains. We grab our things and run to the tent. We are lucky that what they throw falls short. We reach the tent and fear an invasion of our private space.
We begin to pack and our names are called out. One man steps forward of the crowd and pulls the tent flaps open. “We demand you leave now. If not, we cannot assure you of the ending.”
Doron nods. “Give us a few minutes to collect our things and we will be on our way.”
During an unnerving quiet, we throw things into the sacks. The men do not move and they offer no provisions. Doron does not speak. Our host stands near, making sure the men know he encourages their demands.
With the donkey packed, we whisper about how to do the leaving and decide to walk bit by bit and smile. As we proceed they turn as one to watch us. They follow us until we are at their border and that is when we pick up our pace.
Doron’s whole body is tense. “I do not appreciate being in this situation.”
“Does everything in your life need to be comfortable?”
“I enjoy peace even if you do not.”
“If we only have peace nothing will change. No one has enough pain to do something.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “You need to live your life in whatever way makes you happy.”
“And you?”
“I will do as I must.”
Doron walks to the other side of the donkey. He grabs the reins and moves on. I follow behind him the entire way to the next city.
The sun makes the old city shine. This area is called Hill Country and is one of the largest city-states in Canaan. The city of Shechem is protected by two mountains. Mt. Gerizim is on the left and Mt. Ebal on the right. We approach through the ridge route, which in the end passes through the city center. The massive wall of stone in front of us used to be their fortification.
“In a way the wall contains a beauty of its own, though the reason for building it was because of bloodshed,” I ponder.
“I find it amazing. You twist words and make a poetic way to describe carnage, as if it is a necessity in the lives of the inhabitants.” Doron’s tone carries bitterness though not quite as cutting as before.
“Are you not aware each city-state was always at war with other states? How many times did the people rise against the government’s constant demands for men and sons to join the military and fight?” I am near tears. “Send support. Send your sons. That is all we heard. So many died.”
Doron is surprised. “I did not realize the northern area had the same problems we did.”
“This is the most interesting city we visited.”
“We have not seen anything yet.”
I do not hold back my retort. “My instincts tell me so.”
His reaction is what I expect. He huffs off toward the town center. We provoked each other the entire trip, and I am no better than he. I follow Doron at a distance. My intuition only works sometimes, but Doron has something that takes him right where we need to go. I catch up to him as he is knocking on the doorpost of our host’s house.
“Good evening, sir. I am the singer—”
“Come in, come in, I was expecting you.”
Doron tethers the donkey. We introduce ourselves and learn his name is Oren. We walk into a house like that of our first host. The flawless weave of his garment declares he is another man of wealth. During the journey, we stayed in huts and sometimes a small house. Oren’s spacious home goes beyond our first host Palluw’s splendid one.
“Please make yourselves comfortable.” He walks to the rear and speaks with someone. By the time he returns and is ready to sit, the servant is pouring drinks.
“Welcome. I am pleased to have you in my home.”
Oren chooses to get business out of the way, so we chat about our concert and choose to wait at least two moons before performing. We need some distance from each other. Oren tells us the organizers will be informed, and
then they will decide timings.
The servants present a wonderful meal. On the trail, we ate the same things, so I relish the spread before us. Our choice is of fish or lamb with a dish of mixed vegetables in a somewhat spicy sauce. Three breads, one made of barley, one of wheat, and one of combined flours served with curds and honey complete the main presentation. The flavors of breads are some I never had before. Cakes of dates, figs, or dried grapes overflow the serving basin and are accompanied by pomegranate tea sweetened with honey.
“The breads are different from those at home. How are they prepared?”
“The barley flour has fig juice instead of water,” Oren tells me. The others have cumin or olive oil mixed into the dough.”
“I would not have thought of that. They are delicious.”
Oren bends toward me. “Enjoy them.”
I end the meal with toasted lentils and honey in honor of beginning my journey home. We are tired and our need for rest shortens the evening.
After the delicious morning meal, we take the early part of the day to visit the altar Abraham built so many years before. It is new to me, but I recall the stories my family told.
“Doron, we are so close, can we go up the mountain? I want to see my village from there.”
“Are you sure? The rise is quite high. It could be a difficult trek.”
“I am sure. Something tells me to.” We reach the peak, get close to the edge, and look out. The sight is breathtaking. Before us are the two mountains whose tops are in the clouds. They have many different trees blooming with both vivid and muted flowers. Between them is flat ground. The houses down below are white and yellow and are sprinkled throughout the area. “Doron, can you see a small village over to the right?”
“Is that the one? Over farther.”
“That is possible. If so, it is much bigger, and I do not recognize the large building. But I think that is the hill I climbed to listen to the men’s meetings. I wonder if my special bushes are still growing.” My frown turns into a chuckle, becomes laughter, and then turns to joy. Being here, near the clouds, close to the stars, makes me feel light in my being.
On the way back we walk along the Route of Springs. “Doron, count and see if there are more than twenty as the stories claim.” I run like a youngster would into the ones that spray the highest. Doron finally laughs, and I am happy to hear that. “Did you count? How many?”
“I did not. I am not a child.”
“You also do not know how to enjoy yourself.”
For me, delight is the tonic which does battle with the fear of not living long enough to find my purpose. I will find that here, in my old village.
The city of Shechem is much like the other cities. Long winding streets, flat roofs with stairs on the side, people who welcome us as we pass, and gardens of vegetables and flowers.
“I like this place and am happy we stopped here. The people we pass are kind.”
“We will know that after you sing your song.”
“Why do you bring that up now? We are enjoying ourselves.”
He blocks my way. “What do you accomplish by going against the grain of the people?”
He means the men. “Is this because the idea comes from a woman? You who grasp so much, why do you not understand?”
“You are going against an entire society and no benefit will come of it.”
I walk around him. “So, should I not speak at all and agree for injustices to continue?”
“You will not change anything so why do you wish to suffer the indignities?’
“Someone must.”
Doron throws his hands in the air and walks away. I follow a good distance behind him back to Oren’s house, hoping things will get better.
The air is full of tension at the evening meal. I do not know what Oren thinks. I hope he is not upset. “The food is wonderful,” I smile. “Thank you for another special meal.”
Oren beams. “The offering was made with loving care.”
“I can taste that.”
Doron does not speak. We excuse ourselves to get ready for the concert. The setting is a short walk away, nestled into the mountains and wrapped in the familiar smell of the olive trees surrounding them.
I sit at one side of the area cleared for us and Doron is at the other. I will not allow him to upset me before I sing. It is enough I already have twinges in my belly. The cause is my family. Are they here? Did they receive notice of the event? I hope not. There is no guarantee of a positive finish and do not want them to be embarrassed. I want to chew my hair.
The concert goes well. The audience enjoys our songs and applauds with generosity. I step forward to announce my last song, “I Am a Woman.” There is rustling from movement in the audience and I wait for quiet. I nod for Doron to begin. His face is ashen. By the second verse the gasps, grunts, mumbles, and murmurs by now familiar to my ears begin in earnest. I force myself to ignore them and continue to the end.
The crowd stands as one and the condemnation begins. The men drag their women toward the stage and threaten me. I force a smile to remain on my face and stay there until I choose to bear it no longer. I throw the shawl over my head and walk back to the house. It is done. There are no regrets and no reproaches.
Doron returns to the house a short while later. “Oren asked us to be on our way in the morning.”
“I am not surprised.”
“Why did you run off?”
I smile at him. “I did not run, Doron, I walked. My work was done.”
“What work? Enraging the people? I cannot defend you and do not know what you think you are doing.”
“Doron, you did not value my plan. I do not expect miracles. My work is to use words that plant seeds for change. There is no justice for women. We are disposable in ways men are not. Our strengths are not considered important. This may not change for many years. I am aware of the difficulties, but I must say it out loud.”
“You have wasted your time and your talent.”
I smile. “That is how you choose to see it.”
“That is how the whole world would see it.”
“It is done. So be it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I slept well. I do not know about Doron. Morning musings consider the idea that there may be a gift in failure. At first it is a crushing of hopes and dreams. But then it is the beginning of new possibilities. Sandalphon gave me my name and blessed me with strengths. I learned courage through experience. Though sad and tired, I will gather my energy and rise with enough vitality to use more words.
Doron wakes up and we lie on our mats. The atmosphere is different. Decisions are in the air.
“It is time for me to go home. After all these years, I will be with my family again.”
“I know.”
“Doron, is there nothing more to say?.”
“What would you want me to say?.”
“That you will join me in my village..”
“I will not.”
Tears come to my eyes. “I was hoping with the performing behind us, you would.”
“My decision is to return to Abraham. I am still his servant and feel it is my duty.”
“Abraham said you could be free. You care for me, I know that. Why can you not accept me as I am?”
“I do care and that is why I cannot accept what you did.” He takes me in his arms and his lips nibble at mine. Passion returns and we make love one last time.
The donkey packed, we partake of the morning meal then say our farewells to our host. We stand at the gate not knowing how to part or what to say.
“Take care, Doron. I wish you well.”
“I will. I wish the greatest contentment for you.”
With that he pats the donkey on his rear and they walk away. I am alone again. A sack of rocks is on my back. The hopes and dreams of a life with Doron disappear with each stride in the opposite direction. It was all for nothing. My song was not successful. My music and my love are gone. My heart is shatte
red.
Do I want to go home? Alone? Face my mother without Doron to comfort me? I want to go in another direction but there is no choice. What will life be like? Each step makes the stones heavier. I double over in pain. The radiant blue sky brings no balm. I force myself to stand and focus on what is ahead. How will I find me? My purpose? When my skin no longer fits this village.
Sandalphon whispers in my ear. “This is the time of your life for you to enjoy your own companionship. That is one way to know who you are.”
He is right as always. I will be home well before the sun goes down. The surroundings bring back pictures of my life there. The damp soil, the greener trees with their scents of olives, come alive once more. It is time to return, to settle things with my mother and my tribe.
Despite the heaviness of my steps, the walk home is shorter than I expect. Abba died and I had word, but nothing since then. I race ahead at the chance Ima might still be there.
My village is in sight. There are three times the number of huts, and where the Council used to gather around the fire stands the large building I saw from the mountain. If this is where the meetings take place, I would no longer be able to eavesdrop. I laugh to myself and take in the scene with the pride of one born here. The sight of familiar things helps me enjoy the moment.
No one is here to meet me, they have no idea I am coming. The new homes make the landscape confusing and it takes me a while to find our hut. A group of children surrounds me before I can call out to Nathan.
“Who are you?” The young man is a smaller Nathan, the tallest of the brood, and I assume the eldest. “You look like my Abba.”
“I am your abba’s sister, your dodah Elisha.”
“Stay here,” he commands the other children. “I will find Abba,” he tells me.
I want to say, “yes, my lord,” but to him it would not be funny. Strange to think of my brother as Abba. The young ones take frequent peeks at me.
“You do not look like our abba,” says a small boy.
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