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Moshe. I became good friends with the local teens. Among my good friends was Hagar. We spent so much time together. Miriam and Moshe, Hagarʼs parents, took me under their wings, too. Moshe was running the stables and spent endless hours with me. Most of the lessons were good. Some were tough, because there were no shortcuts and no discounts. The work needed to be done exactly as he said. It was not easy for someone like me, with my own thoughts and ideas. But there was no way to argue with Moshe. I would lose no matter what. The horses were his domain. If I wanted to be around these majestic animals, I had to listen and obey—no ifs, ands, buts, or maybes. I was fourteen years old when the true meaning of the word “guilt” came into my reality for the first time in my life. It all happened after I was asked by Moshe to feed the horses at dinnertime. I was “busy” with my friends and I did not feed the horses. I did not feel great about it but did not think much of it, either. Depending on your teachers and guides— and your own moral compass—you will learn from your mistakes. I could not lie to Moshe when I was asked if I had fed the horses. He gave me such a speech and made sure I understood it the first time. He told me to go back to my dorm—he needed no more help from me. I had betrayed the one person who trusted me. It was guilt indeed. After that incident, Moshe knew it would never happen again, and he was right. For twelve years, I worked with Moshe in the stables. He treated me like he treated his daughters. Many times he was my shoulder to cry on or the one to ask for advice. I loved and respected Moshe like a father. I came to realize that I was a nature girl. I loved the kibbutz. I lived there for fifteen years. My children were born there. The challenges of the teen years are much greater than what the teenager thinks while he is passing through them. He says things like, “I know,” “Yes, I know,” “Donʼt tell me, I know.” I heard these three sentences so many times a day from my own son that I found myself telling him, “I know you know, but...” One day, he replied, “I am going to believe that you know.” Often I wonder if the “I Know” comes from defending one’s inner turmoil. I did not have the privilege of saying, “I know.” I clung to what I really knew and learned what I did not know. What other choice did I have? None. Over the weeks, Moshe and I planned when and where we would ride. By doing so, we could tell someone at home—usually Mosheʼs wife, Miriam, and my roommate Noa —when we would be back. It was a safety issue, which was important since we had no mobile phones then.
It was a beautiful spring day. The air so fresh after the rain, birds singing, flowers blooming, and calmness in the surroundings which made it the perfect weather for a long horseback ride. That had not been in our plans. But we could not resist the invitation by nature. We called Miriam and told her that we were going on a longer trip. We packed sandwiches, fruit, a fingan for field coffee, and all the equipment we needed for an all-day ride. Moshe saddled Sivan and I decided to ride on Rimi. She was an easy ride, especially for the long ones. We had just left the stable and not even ridden around the curve, when Rimi saw something crawling fast on the dirt between her hoofs and went crazy. She reared up on her back legs and made frantic noises—a high-pitched steady whinnying followed by a lower whimper—over and over again. I was frantic and clung to her neck, afraid to let go. Moshe asked me to take a deep breath and listen to him. “Release the extra rope,” he said. After taking a deep breath and listening to Moshe repeating his instructions, I finally did what he asked of me. First, I got control of my fears and then I helped Moshe to help me to gain control of Rimi, my “easy ride.” Moshe took hold of the rope and slowly added pressure to Rimi and got control of her. It was the first time that my horse had ever gotten out of control. We all calmed down, including Sivan, Mosheʼs horse. Moshe said, “We have two options: one is to go back to the stable, and the second is to continue with our plan.” If it had been only me, no doubt I would have gone back. I had a brave face but my heart was pounding fast. I replied, “Letʼs continue with our plans. It is a beautiful day.” I swallowed hard. Moshe knew I was pretending. He had two teenage daughters, and the stable attracted plenty of our kind. Although I was sore from the long ride, watching the beautiful sunset made me feel peaceful and calm—feelings I did not have very often. On this beautiful spring day, I had one of the most educational and memorable trips I ever made with Moshe. We talked for hours about fears, senses, control, and horses. When we got back, I was so happy I wanted to hug Moshe and thank him for a great day. But I did not. After the unpacking, cleaning, feeding, and just before I said good night, Moshe said, “I am so proud of the way you handled yourself today.” I said, “Thank you, see you. Good night,” and went to my room with tears in my eyes. Moshe very rarely was fuzzy and warm in the stables. That evening he acted more like a father than my supervisor. Noa saw me first, as I entered our room. “Are you ok?” She asked. “I could not be better,” I replied with a smile. “These are happy tears.” This was triumph WITH tears.
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I THOUGHT IT WAS LOVE. I was seventeen when my future husband started courting me. He was friendly and gentle, but I had no interest in him. I had enough of the males. They never grew up. I learned this by getting hurt by a young man I dated. We were together for more than a year. He was in the kibbutz part of the Nahal program. Nahal - refers to a paramilitary Israel Defense Forces program that combines military service and the establishment of agricultural settlements.
When this young man moved out to the base, he decided that two girls were better than one. When I found out, I helped him make his deception easy by telling him, “With me, it is only one. In this case, it is not me.” Then I dated a volunteer, supposedly an adult, who was about twenty-four years old. All he wanted to do was to get drunk and take me to bed. Needless to say, he did not last long. To his credit, my first husband was persistent and never gave up, even though every time he wanted to be alone with me, I refused. I did not know him and had no ambition to learn who he was. One evening after dinner, we were all outside the dining room chatting. Somehow everyone left, one by one, until there were only three of us remaining. When Stephen said, “Iʼll leave you two, good night,” I knew that was the plan. My new boyfriend asked me to go with him for a walk to the stables. Well, someone had done his homework. I liked that a lot. His quiet voice and British accent were intriguing. We were dating when my sister Iris and my Mother saw us together for the first time. They knew we would get married. They saw something I did not. They were right. Most evenings I spent studying for my high school finals in his room. It was quite relaxing, far from the hectic life I had in the youth house. His bachelor room turned out to be clean and tidy within days of the first time I stepped into it. Iʼm not sure if he liked it but he did not complain. He liked to walk into the room after a long day of work and see me there, half asleep on my notebooks. “Take a break,” he would say. By the time he would return from the shower, I was ready to leave. At the age of eighteen I was done with high school and preparing for military duty. During this period, I worked full time and had no time for social life except on the weekends. When high school was over, we moved out of the youth house and lived with partners in a bigger room in a different area. We were all going to be soldiers. At first, Noa and I decided to stay roommates, this time in a little complex where we each had a room, but shared a bathroom and entry. We knew each otherʼs weak and strong points and were comfortable with each other. I did not take into consideration that my boyfriend status had changed. He was no longer a volunteer. He wanted to stay in the kibbutz so he went to the Olpan. I spent more nights with him than with Noa, so we decided to be roommates. We moved together into a two-room complex. He worked with the cows and I worked in the field from morning to evening, went to the stables for an hour or so, and got back home late at night. We had a great life together when we saw each other, which was very little. Shortly after I started military duty, my boyfriend brought a puppy home. She
was adorable, like every puppy. He named her Kim. We also had an old cat who adopted us. His name was Koki. He was Kimʼs protector. Even though she quickly grew bigger than he was, she still had a lot of respect for her big “brother.” I would split my military weekend vacations between my parents in Eilat and my boyfriend on the kibbutz. At first, it was an even split. Then it was more boyfriend than parents. I knew that he was my future. We were a “family” already, living together, with pets.
When he asked me to marry him, I did not hesitate, and with all my heart I wanted to have a family and be with him, forever.
I got married despite my father, Moshe, and Aviʼs disapproval. They did everything in their power to make me understand that getting married was the wrong thing for me to do at that time. I thought I knew better. When Avi came to visit Moshe at the kibbutz, they always went riding together. When I joined them, they loved to torment me. Even to this day, I do not know if I loved it or hated it. Avi was very direct. Whatever was on his mind was on his tongue. He would say, “Do you use drugs? Are you keeping your grades decent? How about safe sex? Do you have any boyfriends?” I kept my answers as short as I could, sometimes with a blush on my cheeks. I would say, “No, yes, none of your business, yes.” I would have the most trouble with “none of your business.” By the end of our rides, he knew everything, even the “none of your business.” Every few months, Avi would get a full report of my life. Moshe said that after my marriage I would visit the stables less often. He was right, as usual. I was still very active in the stables after the marriage, but when I was pregnant with Yarden, I slowed my help. I was seven months pregnant on my last ride. Maybe I would have ridden longer if Doronʼs surprise gallop while searching for Avi and Sivan had not coerced my horse into doing the same. Even though I had no problem slowing her down, I saw Mosheʼs worried face. In silence we agreed that this would be my last ride for a while. I was back on the horse two months after I gave birth. But now I was a mother. I took extra precautions to be safe. Before Yarden, I wore a helmet only on long trips. After Yardenʼs birth, I wore it on every ride. I also made sure to wear boots and checked the saddle twice. My parenting instincts kicked in immediately. I was still active in the stable. Yarden often came with me.
On the eighth month of my first pregnancy, I was dreaming of my son. I called my mother. She was in the United States with my sister Iris and brother Arye. I said, “I have a boy. He looks just like his dad, with tiny nose, brown eyes, lush lips, round face.” I gave my mom the exact details of the boy I saw in my dream. Mom was holding her breath, “Did you give birth?” she asked, knowing that I did not want to know the babyʼs gender until I gave birth. “No.” I said. “I was dreaming of him.” Two weeks later, on September 14th, she was back in Israel. I gave birth to a perfect baby boy. He looked exactly like he did in my dream. If I had not called my mother to tell her about my dream, no one would have believed me. At first, I wanted to call our baby boy Yam, which translates from Hebrew to “sea” because of my passion and love of the sea. My husband was British and said, “We cannot call him Yam. It is a vegetable in England.” Now that I live in the United States, I am so glad I did not name my son after a sweet potato. Think of all the problems he would have suffered from his classmates at school!
Right after giving birth, our baby boy was wide awake, with eyes open, clean white skin, almost smiling. He looked so calm and did not cry. He reminded me of the soft flow of a river. We named our baby boy Yarden, translated from Hebrew to “Jordan”. Today, Yarden is an adult. He looks exactly like his father. Yarden's English birth date, September 14th, had no meaning at his time of birth. I was in week 38 and his time came. His Hebrew date was very important however, as it was Kippur eve. What a date! Yarden was in my arms before noon. At 13:00 (1:00 PM), my husband and mom left me until the following night when Kippur was over and they could drive again. I had the nursery crew all to myself. The positive aspect of that situation is that they let Yarden stay with me all day. Before I left home, I had the opportunity to bathe him, change his diapers, and nurse him. He was so small. But it felt safe doing it in the hospital with the nurses beside me. I remember one of the times I was breastfeeding Yarden, I talked to him and said, “There must be something special about today.” I felt like the only new mother in all of Israel that had no visitors, flowers, or chocolate. Yarden was a beautiful baby and very easy. I could not understand parents that did not sleep at night or complained that their baby cried a lot and was restless and challenging. Yarden was so good that I thought I would have lots of children, and planned a second child. It did not take me long. The day I said to my husband that I wanted a second child is the day I conceived. Only 838 days after Yarden's birth, I gave birth to Shani, my punishment for being so arrogant.! Yarden showed his artistic ability from a very young age. He liked playing imaginative games. He learned what gravity is at the age of two while playing with giant foam blocks. Yarden played soccer when he was 4 years old. What was striking is that he kicked with both legs and was good with both. When he started to paint as a toddler, he used both hands as well. Yarden’s teacher recommended checking his midline crossing. That is when a child or adult cannot cross the middle of their body due to different disorders or slow development. I just looked at her and said “it is easy to go to the negative way of thinking. Yarden is ambidextrous”. The teacher thought it is too early to diagnose. Crossing the midline was easier to diagnose. Those that have the challenge literally cannot touch the left shoulder with their right hand. Clearly not a problem for Yarden. Yarden rode the bicycle without training wheels at 4 years old. At 6 he was a master in Lego and built complex models designs; those that were meant to be built by 12 year olds. Very athletic, very smart. Disliked school. Yarden’s first trauma was losing my dad. The two of them were very close and it was very hard to explain to a 4 year old that Saba (grandpa) Yuval will not return. Yarden once said “if he can not return, can we go visit him?” A year later he still cried and said that he wants to visit grandpa. We left the Kibbutz when Yarden transitioned from Kindergarten to 1st grade. It was not easy. He really did not want to sit in class. He made friends and was popular. Yarden adjusted to Eilat better than expected, all but school. Whether it was the teacher, the nurse or the entire education idea, it was a sign of the challenges to come.
December, 30th 1996 I gave birth to Shani. At four months and one day old Shani began to sit up and crawl. As I know now, it was a clear sign of her rapid early development. It was a sign that Shani would become the young woman she is today. She is easy going, charming, compassionate, loving, and active. She was a child who grew stronger every day as she overcame one challenge after another.
After Shaniʼs birth, I cut my visits to the stable tremendously. I helped Moshe on the weekends with the feeding. Yarden and Shani loved to visit the stable, because right after the feeding I would take them to the petting zoo in the kibbutz. Mostly, I became Mosheʼs emergency contact. I was there when Moshe needed help with a sick horse or feeding when he was away.
We became accustomed to routine family life: two children, home, dog, and work. We did not have a healthy married life, but it could have been worse. We were arguing. I did the talking, he watched TV, and off we went to bed, a little frustrated. But we had two beautiful, charming, smart, healthy babies. For that I was grateful.
In June 2000 we left the Kibbutz and moved back to Eilat. Shani and Yarden had to adjust to city life. In the Kibbutz they could walk by themselves, at a very young age, to play with friends. In Eilat, we had to adjust and make sure the kids did not open the gate without telling me. Now, I could not let them out of my site. Both Yarden and Shani hated it.
They loved nature just like their dad and I. In the city it was much different. Often we would go for walks in the desert or swim in the Red Sea. But it was not the same as the freedom they had before. Shani did well with her new friends. In preschool Shani was ahead of the class. Sima, her teache
r, recommended that Shani be moved ahead of her class, so that she could begin first grade by age 5. But another challenge stood in her way.
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THE DRIVE TO THE TRUTH. In 1996, I worked with the youth, closing a cycle perhaps. Zohar was in charge, and I helped him. Later when Zohar changed positions, I learned his responsibilities and took over his status as a consultant. There was a group of German youths that were being hosted in Ma’ale Hachamisha's hotel, where they learned about history, culture, and religion. They asked to team up with the youth in the kibbutz, and we did. It was an excellent experience for both groups. We were thinking of going to visit them in Germany. This was still in the planning process and needed a push from the German side. We explained to them that the budget for such a trip was beyond our ability, and they helped us out. Two years of hard work—physical and mental —were about to pay off. As an extra adult, I was looking for a parent to travel with me. It was overwhelming to travel with (16) sixteen-year-olds to Germany all by myself. Shalom Shmerler volunteered. This worked out to our advantage, as Shalom speaks and understands the German language, besides the fact that he was a superb help for me.
Triumph Over Tears Page 3
