Jews vs Aliens

by Naomi Alderman

  ‘But…’ Samuel starts. Everyone turns to look at him and he wants to shrivel to a speck of dirt on the floor. How dare he, a smooth-faced outsider, speak up?

  The tzaddik smiles and nods at him.

  He clears his throat. ‘So how can someone from our world curse those who live upon another world? How does a curse travel over such a long distance?’

  ‘If a curse punishes the ungodly, surely Hashem makes the curse effective,’ comments the surly denizen of the front row. ‘Do you doubt the power of the Lord?’

  ‘No, Dov. This young man asks a good question,’ says the tzaddik. ‘Yes, the Almighty is the supreme power in the universe. He has also endowed his favoured creatures with free will and a capacity to overcome physical obstacles, such as vast distances. For example, Rashi explains how the road folded itself up for Jacob when he travelled from Beersheba to Haran, so he was able to complete his journeys in an instant. This manner of travel is described as the leaping of the road, kefitzat haderech.’

  ‘What did he say about a road?’ Lev whispers to Samuel.

  ‘Shush!’

  ‘Deborah and other adepts could make the roads “leap”, thus shortening the distance they had to travel between two places. They could also instigate the crumpling of the sky, which allows travel between the stars. Then they made the sky smooth again and restored the distances.’

  He’s never read that in the Talmud. Maybe he missed something. ‘Where do you learn how to do these things?’ he asks.

  Now the tzaddik frowns. ‘This isn’t something to do in your home! It is dangerous, and it is forbidden.’

  ‘But you’re telling everyone about it. How forbidden is that?’

  ‘My son, it is one thing to know about this. It is our history, our birthright. But to know how to do this…’ The tzaddik shakes his head. ‘This knowledge is handed down to one person in each generation. There may be a time when we have to use it. But that time isn’t now.’

  It hurts Samuel’s head to imagine that such things could be true. But it’s a pleasant ache, like the one he gets when he tries to imagine the ‘unseen colours’ from his favourite section in the Zohar: ‘There are colours that are seen, and colours that are not seen.’ When he walks around the village, and the mud is grey and brown beneath his feet, he imagines those unseen colours, dazzling behind the muck. And what unknown colour lurks behind the dreary ledgers at the tailors’ shop where he works? He hopes to discover it some day.

  After more discussion, the tzaddik calls a halt. ‘Now it is time to dance.’ He gestures and the klezmorim take their places on the platform.

  They begin their tune, slowly. Samuel stays in his seat next to Lev.

  He remembers warnings that the Hasidim seek to convert other Jews. Though he enjoyed the discussion, he has no intention of joining their sect.

  Soon wine is passed to Samuel and Lev. They drink and clink glasses, and the music is too catchy. They just have to join in. Legs kicking, the boys clasp hands on each other’s shoulders, song vibrating in their throats and raising their lips.

  In the dancing, Samuel feels his heart expand until it becomes a much greater heart that beats at the centre of the universe.

  The two boys head home across the fields, a good hour’s walk. ‘I wish the road could rise up to meet us now,’ Samuel says.

  ‘Your head’s more likely to hit it first, after all the wine you drank,’ answers Lev.

  ‘No, my eyes are on the stars!’ Samuel giggles.

  ‘But the tzaddik didn’t talk about golems,’ Lev goes on to kvetch. ‘I was hoping for advice on that. I still don’t understand why our formula hasn’t worked.’

  ‘Feh! Golem, shmolem… Your mind’s in the mud - look at the sky instead!’

  It’s a clear night, and the stars are hypnotic. So many and so far, they appear as mist across the heavens. And each of them surrounded by worlds! Samuel reaches up to the sky, reaching out with spread fingers then closing his hand into a fist. Is this how you crumple the sky? But there is nothing in his hand.

  ‘Samuel? Look where you’re going!’

  Drek. A huge cowpat.

  Samuel wipes his boot on the grass.

  Lev watches. ‘A fitting end to the evening,’ he observes. ‘The tzaddik did say some interesting things. And these Hassidim enjoy a dance and so do I. But what’s the point of dancing if there are no girls?’

  Samuel swipes his boot one last time. ‘You sound like my meshugge socialist sister, though she would ask that question for different reasons.’

  And now his crazy sister will be coming home from Odessa.

  Raizl swings a suitcase in each hand. Samuel is supposed to meet her train, but where is he? Maybe it’s just as well she didn’t bring her favourite weapon, the pole with spikes. She would have wrapped it in burlap and schlepped it here along with her two suitcases filled with schmattes, but Arkady talked her out of it.

  However, she did bring her revolver. After the last pogrom in Odessa, trouble is expected everywhere, even in sleepy old Fekedynka.

  At least there’s a newly formed group of comrades here. She looks forward to meeting them. She’s brought them a gift from her group – a megaphone. But she really ought to try it out first and make sure it works.

  She holds her head high, sure she is observed. Here comes the Odessa mama! Back home, are you? Still not married? Of course not.

  Home. The place where she was born stopped being home long before she left it at fourteen. She’s only just off the train and already she misses Arkady. She misses Odessa, though not all its memories are good.

  Drying pools of blood in the first rays of sun. She catches her breath. A memory. It’s only a memory. This village doesn’t even have gutters, only dirt roads.

  ‘Raizl!’

  So now Samuel is here. ‘What time do you call this, schmattekopf? Never mind, don’t worry about helping me with my luggage. I’m a strong girl.’

  ‘Ah, Raizl, I see you haven’t changed.’

  ‘Why should I?’

  In the deepening dusk crows rise from the fields, flying over the village. It has spread out since she was last here, two yeas ago when her father died. Now it’s almost a town.

  As they walk, Raizl hears the Odessa-bound train pulling into the station, then letting out a blast of its whistle as it leaves. A part of her wants to be on it.

  When they arrive, Raizl’s mother Feygele emerges from her last-minute packing, preparing for her journey to Vilna to live with her eldest daughter.

  She actually looks younger than last time; it must be anticipation of the new life and the growing brood of grandchildren awaiting her. She’s got rid of her sheitel and has let her own hair grow again, lightly covered by a scarf. Raizl is glad for her choice of present, a lovely embroidered scarf from Smyrna. Mother doesn’t have to know that it fell off a boat in Odessa harbour and into Raizl’s hands before it hit the water.

  Feygele brings out the samovar, along with a plate of rugelach. Raizl has fond memories of those buttery bites tasting of nuts, raisins and cinnamon. But they are dry in her mouth now.

  Siblings, relatives and neighbours drop by to bid Feygele goodbye. Some glare at Raizl, the wayward daughter packed off to the Odessa cousins. Raizl smiles back. She doesn’t care what they think.

  Sister Hannah and her husband arrive with their twins. Those warm milky bundles are quickly parked on Raizl’s lap, one on each thigh.

  She does like babies, provided they aren’t her own.

  Once the guests depart, the table is cleared and Feygele retired, Raizl takes a bottle of vodka out of her bag and pours two generous portions.

  ‘You’re better off with this than the kosher wine, Samuel.’ They raise their glasses to each other, then knock back their drinks.

  Raizl clears her throat. ‘So, Samuel… You know that mother wouldn’t leave unless I promised to “look after” you. So I’ll tell you now what that means. I’m here if you need me, but I won’t be your servant. In Odes
sa, living with my comrades, we eat and cook together and share all tasks. That’s what will happen here.’

  ‘But… I have to work and study.’

  ‘So will I. How do you think we’ll eat?’

  ‘I can’t cook. And everyone will laugh.’

  ‘Ha! Let “everyone” learn to cook too! You don’t do your part, I go on strike. But maybe you’ll see sense with more vodka. And what do you study, which is so important that you can’t cook a meal?’

  Samuel looks away from Raizl. ‘Kabbalah, that’s what we study. Me and Lev. Lev shares his yeshiva books, but we go our own way with them.’

  ‘Oy Samuel. You once wanted to learn science. You liked to learn about animals and plants and look at the stars. So what’s this?’

  ‘But I still look at the stars. We went to a lecture about them by a tzaddik. He believes that beings from other worlds have visited the earth. It’s in the Talmud.’

  ‘So if it’s in the Talmud, does that make it true? A smart boy like you, believing in bupkes,’ Raizl says. ‘And what are these other worlds? Mars? I read a book about an invasion from Mars. War of the Worlds. In English. I’ve been studying English at a workers’ institute and they had it in the library. The librarian told me that HG Wells is an important socialist and this is a book about the British class struggle!’

  Samuel snorts. ‘I’ve never heard of it.’

  ‘It’s just a story. Our librarian doesn’t know English. My English wasn’t so good then, but I improved it by reading this book. I might try to find pupils for English here.’

  ‘Most people here don’t even speak Russian.’

  She shrugs. ‘So I teach Russian. Even here in Fekedynka the new twentieth century starts! Parents will want more for their children than superstitious chazzerai from the cheder.’

  Raizl pours herself another vodka. ‘But you know, farshtunken Fekedynka is still a miserable excuse for a village. You should come back to Odessa with me. Even with the quotas against Jews, you can study with your circle of friends, then pass your exams. You can become a scientist. My friend Leah…’

  Raizl stops. When the pogrom started, comrades divided into groups to defend certain areas. It was only by chance Leah ended up in the group that met with a massacre. Raizl had originally volunteered for that group, then Leah said she preferred it because she had family in that area.

  Raizl shudders with guilt for surviving, sorrow for the friend she lost.

  Samuel is waiting for her to finish the sentence.

  ‘My friend studied science. But she was killed.’

  ‘So you want me to go there and get killed too? What a great sister you are!’

  ‘Yes, it’s dangerous in Odessa. But it’s dangerous everywhere. All it takes is one incident, one accusation… Maybe you need to look up from your books and your crazy Kabbalah davening.’

  ‘You call me crazy but anyone might say the same thing about you.’

  Maybe I am, Raizl thinks. She knows she should lie low, when revolutionaries and activists in the self-defence groups are likely to face arrest. But how low can she lie if the trouble comes here? She’s already been invited to speak to the local comrades and help with their self-defence practice.

  ‘So, Raizl, how’s it going with your shaygetz, your Russian fancy-boy?’ Samuel lowers his voice, even though he can hear their mother snoring above their heads.

  They both raise their eyes to the ceiling, and Raizl answers in an even lower voice. ‘Arkady? As well as expected. I hope you’ll meet him one day.’

  They drink a last glass of vodka. The conversation lightens, turning to visits from the matchmaker and tips on foiling plans for unwanted marriages.

  Finally, it’s time to sleep. Samuel goes up to his room, while Raizl takes the pallet down and covers it with blankets. She undresses and stretches out, still warm with the heat from the fire left burning in the grate.

  Raizl drifts into sleep. She sees flames and desolation, a home levelled to rubble. A tree-lined street near the sea, glittering glass on the road and blood drying in puddles.

  Samuel and Lev make their way across the fields on Sunday afternoon, hoping they can talk to the tzaddik on his own in the study house.

  ‘This tzaddik is meshugge for the stars and he’s not much good on golems. But I like him after all,’ says Lev. ‘More fun than our rebbe, eh?’

  ‘I told Raizl about him, but she said go to Odessa and learn real science.’

  ‘What does she know? She hasn’t heard Avrom. And women wouldn’t be allowed in such a meeting.’

  ‘They can study science, though. Raizl’s friend in Odessa did.’

  The one who was killed, Samuel reminds himself.

  ‘So,’ says Lev. ‘That doesn’t say much for science!’

  They stop at some woodland near a stream, planning to relieve themselves before moving on.

  Samuel undoes his trousers. While he attends to his business he closes his eyes as he recites a prayer. Commentators in the Midrash spoke of becoming close to God during the most humble activities. They said nothing about activities as humble as this, but shouldn’t they be celebrated? To take in nourishment and excrete it is part of living, Hashem’s plan.

  When he opens his eyes, he notices a dark shape on the other side of the stream. A touch of white to the indistinct darkness of the shape, a little blue?

  He steps over the stones, across the stream to investigate. As he comes closer, a turbulent hollow in the pit of his stomach tells him what his eyes still refuse to see. A pale hand, blue and white fringed cloth, a tallis.

  The tallis is covering the man’s face. Samuel reaches out, lifting it away to reveal bruise-coloured skin, bulging eyes. Hair and beard, red and white.

  The tzaddik.

  Samuel screams.

  His friends run over. At the sight of the tzaddik, Lev joins Samuel’s lamentation.

  ‘We have to go tell them,’ Lev finally says.

  ‘Go. I’ll stay with the tzaddik.’

  ‘You can’t stay. It isn’t safe. What if…’

  ‘What if? We can’t leave the tzaddik’s body alone. Go!’

  Lev doesn’t argue again, seeing Samuel’s determination.

  Now that he’s alone with the tzaddik, Samuel pulls up the tallis to cover the dead man’s face, this time with reverence. He sees the dark straps bound tight around his throat. The man was strangled with his own tefillin.

  Samuel falls back as if this horror has just punched him in the gut. His hand thrusts into leaves, touches a soft fabric. He finds a square velvet bag. It is a plain deep green, worn in places.

  Inside he finds a brass cylinder with four retractable sections, leather covering the largest section. A telescope, an instrument for looking at the sky!

  There is also a book, a very old one. There’s no title on the cover so he has to look inside. The Book of Deborah - the prophetess Deborah who could make the sky fold and crumple.

  He says a kaddish for the tzaddik while clasping the book and telescope tight in his hands.

  He hears shouts, people responding to the alarm raised by his friends. Who will come? The Hasidic burial society, the tzaddik’s students, or the police? Hey hey daloy politsey, as his sister used to sing over the washing. Down with the police, down with the Czar. A better tune than that dirge she used to sing, all about being hated and driven away. Of course you’ll be hated and driven away if you sing that drek.

  He puts the precious objects back into the velvet bag and slips it under his shirt, under his tallis, and waits.

  When Raizl was growing up in this village, she believed she was alone in her desire for a better world. There were rich people, and poor people. Among the poor people you found poor Russians, and poor Jews. The two groups fought each other more than those who kept them poor. She was only a child, but she knew this wasn’t right.

  And here in farshtunken Fekedynka, she is now meeting a small but active group affiliated to the General Jewish Labour Bund. There are fresh-
faced gymnasium students from the better-off homes as well as youngsters from poor homes like hers. A few older people, like Mordecai the blacksmith. He says he joined after Jew-haters vandalised his smithy. His daughter, a sharp-face girl called Sheindl, had recruited him.

  They are meeting in the woods for some short talks, then shooting practice. Though it’s a chilly day, they are sheltered by the trees and the slope of the valley.

  She’d been invited to talk about events in Odessa. But these now fill her with despair after all the hopes of a near-revolution – the strikes and rallies, crowds gathering at the harbour to support the Potemkin mutiny.

  Being here makes her think of Arkady, though he obviously didn’t attend Bund meetings. He had questioned the need for a separate group of Jewish activists, and they still argue about it. To her, it’s practical when Jews often live and work separately from goyim, and even speak their own language. But Arkady’s group of anarchists often worked with the Bund, helping especially with the self-defence.

  So that’s what they have to do now, defend themselves, rather than build a new world. It’s a grim thought, yet these comrades lift Raizl’s heart. These are boys and girls with dreams and hopes. She envies them for their confidence, something she lacked at their age. She’d been a shy girl, though she’d had moments of boldness.

  She had heard about a boy in the village called Yankel who shared her views, and she just had to speak to him. He could become her soul mate, a true comrade… perhaps more. She decided to call on him to talk about their mutual interests.

  When she knocked on his door, his mother opened it and Raizl explained that she wanted to meet her son. Yankel’s mother slammed the door in Raizl’s face. Later, she was denounced as a girl of loose morals and a disgrace to her family. But this led to a new life when she was sent off to stay with her cousins.