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Authors: Cynthia Freeman

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Dovid, among them, lay on his bed convulsing with the disease. His condition was so severe Chavala had to doubt his recovery. Day and night she sat by his bed, feeding him quinine, sponging his body and thanking God that she had Dvora to take care of little Chia, and that Moishe had already recovered from this dreadful disease. Weak as he was, he went back to work, although she pleaded with him to rest for a few more days. He shrugged. “When we have a real kibbutz, I’ll remember what it took to build this one.”

Chavala looked at him and swallowed hard. Moishe, she realized, was proud that he was a part of the land now, and wore his illness like a campaign ribbon.

Finally Dovid did recover, and his attitude was much like Moishe’s … he went back to the swamps almost as soon as he could stand.

While the work in the fields was going on, three clapboard sheds were erected—one a communal dining room that doubled as a meeting room, the other a tool shed and barn, the third, a community barracks. Although thin partitions were provided for the five married couples to have a little privacy, they would all sleep under the same roof and share common showers and toilets.

When these were completed a much-needed celebration was held. There was little to feast on but they still rejoiced. In the evening a bonfire was lit and they danced the
hora
until dawn. Indeed, they rejoiced. Chavala’s pleasure was, as always, tempered by her longing for her family, but when she risked confiding in the other women they all but laughed at her sentimentality. The problem with Chavala, they said, was that she lived too much in the past She hadn’t really escaped the
shtetl
… her problem wasn’t her longing and love of the old place but her Jewish guilt … “Wake up to today,” one said, “we’ve been so conditioned by family obligations, it’s become a kind of Jewish disease. Until you leave the ghetto of your mind, there isn’t much hope that you’ll make it in Eretz Yisroel.”

No, Chavala found no comfort in them. In fact, she felt alienated from these women, who seemed to revel with an almost religious zeal that at last they had attained the same kind of rights as men, working side-by-side in the fields, ploughing the earth, draining the swamps, removing the rocks and refusing to be treated as women. Sonia Chernik lived openly without shame with Yudel Liebowitz, which even Chavala found difficult to accept Traditions were rejected, pushed aside….

Once they’d rolled up their tents and moved into the barracks, a meeting was called. Leah Abramowitz and her husband marched into the meeting hall and sat next to the four other married women. As the proceedings began, Leah, who had been appointed the women’s leader, stood in front of the assembly dressed in a pair of her husband’s work-pants. “We, the wives of this community, want to voice our disapproval. Since we do the work of men we expect that you men should share the work that was thrust on us only because we are women.”

Yudel Liebowitz, the head of the committee, asked her, “What is it that you won’t accept?”

“All responsibility for the cooking, kitchen chores, housekeeping and the rearing of children.”

There was more than a murmur of dissent from the single men.

Sonia Chernik, the second in command, brought down the gavel. “This meeting will be conducted with decorum. Anyone who wants to debate will have their chance. But comrade Leah will be heard.”

Knowing Sonia would be in sympathy with their petition, Leah nodded and began, “As of today I insist that the work be rotated. The men will assume the same amount of hours in the kitchen, cooking and in the tending of children, since this is the responsibility of the entire community and not ours alone because we are women and wives.”

From the back of the room an angry
chalutz
called out, “You forgot to say one thing, comrade Leah, will you also allow us to give birth?”

Jeers and whistles of approval echoed in the barnlike room.

The gavel came down sharply. Yudel called out, “This is a democratic meeting. You’ve been told that each of you will have an opportunity for rebuttal. Now I call for silence.” He looked over the group and asked that Leah please finish.

“I’d be delighted,” she said, “but first, an answer to comrade Shmuel’s question. Yes, you will be allowed to give birth when you are equal to women and can stand the pain.”

Three of the wives applauded.

Leah nodded her thanks. “Now, I ask that the vote be taken.”

The twelve members of the committee reached for the ballots and wrote their answers. Then Sonia read them aloud, “Eight against, four in favor. Now it goes to the assembly, since it wasn’t unanimous in the committee. May I have a show of hands?”

Of the fourteen members, Dovid voted along with the nine remaining
chalutzim.

Leah rose quickly and delivered a swift volley of words. “We do not accept this. We will exercise our rights—”

“And what are they?” asked a stern Sonia.

“Strike! In this commune there are no serfs, damn it.”

Silence fell over the room.

Chavala looked at Dovid. Since he was against the proposal, and since the committee had said debate was permissible, she raised her hand.

Yudel acknowledged her. “You have three minutes.”

That wasn’t quite fair. Leah had been given ten. “I don’t want to work in the fields. I will, though, take on the responsibility of the kitchen. With the help of my sister Dvora we’ll also take over the care of the children.” Chavala didn’t quite realize that with such words she’d finished herself with the other women. Sonia was so angry she forgot her impartial position as vice-chairman.

“You, Chavala, have been uncooperative since you arrived. You are nothing but a ghetto Jew … with the mentality of a ghetto Jew, and I think that’s what you always will be.”

Chavala lashed back. “And you are very democratic so long as no one disagrees with you. I have as much right to my feelings as you to yours—”

The gavel came down, Yudel announced, “You may be seated.”

“But what about taking the vote on my petition?”

“Be seated.”

The single men whistled and applauded for Chavala. A woman was a woman, and a woman belonged in the kitchen, never mind that they worked in the fields. They still could not do a man’s job, it was ridiculous to think otherwise. What kind of a man would do housekeeping, much less take care of children?

Dovid spoke up to defend his wife. “I believe tonight’s meeting has been biased and one-sided. A member of the committee has committed a personal slander that has nothing to do with the petition. The female members, all of them have the right to petition, but a vote was taken and it was voted down—”

Leah stood immediately, shaking her fist at Dovid. “As of this moment, my fellow comrades and I strike!”

And all four women and Sonia walked out

Dvora looked at Chavala. Yes, she loved her sister with all her heart, but this was different, it had nothing to do with loyalty and love, it had to do with … well … what was fair… she knew that Chavala was not a ghetto Jew, but she also knew that Chavala had tried to walk in the footsteps of mama. She wanted to be like mama and carry on a traditional home, and here she just wasn’t able to. Dvora had to admit to herself that she wasn’t entirely like Chavala. Her feelings were much like the other women’s. She wanted to work in the fields, not be shackled to a kitchen. She wanted the freedom men were privileged to, that Moishe had. She wanted to walk out with the others, feeling the strike was justified, and she would tell Chavala so….

After a week of cooking for the whole community, even though she had the reluctant help of Dvora, Chavala, not surprisingly, collapsed. As she lay on her cot, with Dovid holding her hand, she looked at him and said, “I’m afraid my spirit was stronger than my body; I thought I could do it, Dovid, I honestly did.”

“I know, and I love you because you tried so hard, but how in the world could you do the work of five women? Now rest, I insist on it.”

Without Chavala, and the other women on strike, the men realized their cause was lost. If they intended to eat they’d better also learn how to cook.

“So,” laughed Leah to the victorious women, “It only proves that men are the weaker sex. We really need them only if we want to have children. Once that’s over … they can’t even scramble an egg. We not only can scramble eggs, we can perpetuate the race, we can clear the fields,” and on and on.

The men gave in, they had no alternative if they didn’t want to starve. Chavala, though, still resented that their lives all but belonged to the
community …
she badly missed a home of her own, remembered all too well that first
seder
she and her sisters prepared after mama had died. Sorry, ladies, but she felt like a
woman
, and to her a woman was a very special thing. Yes, she admitted, she missed that little hovel, and living together in these tight communal quarters was almost strangling her. Everything was brought before the governing body. Even the clothes they wore on their backs belonged to the community. Now, even Dvora had alienated herself from Chavala by working in the fields with the other women. She felt more alone than she had at any time in her life. She had no one to speak to, not even Dovid, because she didn’t want to add to the other burdens of his life.

In the fall of that year Sonia announced she was expecting a child, and without fuss her marriage was sanctioned by the common consent of the committee. A petition was presented. Since Sonia’s child would be the first born on the commune she decided that there was a more advantageous way to accommodate working parents … The plan wasn’t intended to ignore the children’s needs, she said, rather to give them a greater sense of security because the whole community would take responsibility for their welfare. If they were to grow up secure in a country that lived each day on the edge of danger, it was important for them to be raised independent of their natural parents. If these children were deprived of a family, the loss would be less difficult for them to accept. It was suggested that a children’s house be built. A vote was taken, and the majority agreed.

Chavala sat in utter disbelief. She would never have believed that Jewish mothers would reject the raising of their children. She had lost her mother, and the bereavement was great, but still she had survived. Actually Chavala suspected Sonia had proposed this because having a child was a burden to
her.
She didn’t know if she much liked this new breed of Jews…

Chavala’s fears grew as she watched the children’s house being built. When the building was finished, little Chia, now a year and a half, was installed with the other children, and Chavala was beside herself. The next morning she went to see Chia but was told that if the child was to adjust to this new environment, visiting privileges would have to be restricted to certain hours during the day. Chavala had had enough. She swooped little Chia up in her arms and left without a word.

Leah and Sonia looked at each other. “You’re right, Sonia,” Leah said, “she has the mentality of a ghetto Jew, obviously this will be taken before the committee.”

Sonia nodded. “From the beginning she’s been a problem … a misfit….”

Dovid found her waiting in their cubicle, and before he could open his mouth Chavala was half-talking, half-crying, “I’ve
tried
, Dovid … I really have, but I just can’t go on living this way. I’ve no one here, not even you. We barely have a moment together. Our lives belong to the
community.
I’m sorry, but our child will be raised in a home, our home, with a mother and father—”

Our child…?
“How long have you known?”

“You haven’t been listening, Dovid, I said I refuse to go on like this—”

“I heard. I mean, how long have you known that you’re expecting?”

“For a month …”

He’d resigned himself from the beginning of their marriage to Chavala’s not being able to conceive. Now … “There are no words to tell you what I feel,” he said as he held her close, stroking her hair. “Oh, Chavala, what can I say?”

She separated herself from him and looked directly at him.
Don’t be frightened to speak out
, she told herself. And to him, “You can say that we’ll leave.”

Dovid knew she was right. He
had
been selfish, thinking only of what he wanted. Like an ostrich he’d buried his head in the sand for a year. But he could no longer do that. She was his life, without her there would be nothing … “We’ll leave, darling. Do you remember the settlement we stayed in at—?”

“I don’t want to live on a settlement, Dovid. I just don’t fit into this kind of life. Please sit down, Dovid.” She seated herself next to him on the edge of the bed, “You want to be a farmer, all of you want to be farmers, but how can that be when none of you know how to use a plough? Darling, you don’t know a hen from a rooster. All I’ve heard in the last year is when the land is cleared the planting will start. Nothing seems to make any sense. Maybe I should thank the women for ignoring me … I’ve learned a lot from the
chalutzim
, among them that your idol Aaron Aaronson has a training farm at Athlit, and that there’s a village called Zichron Yaakov. I remember the day when Aaronson rode into the settlement on that white stallion. He’s a great man, Dovid, and a great teacher … you’ll become more than a farmer. With his help you might become … what’s it called? … an agronomist. Dream big dreams, Dovid …”

The next day Dovid went before the committee and told them he and Chavala were leaving.

Sonia grimaced and made a show of laying hands on her bulging stomach. She’d gone on working in the fields alongside her husband, even though she was expecting at any moment. But Chavala, of course, was a peasant with a ghetto mentality. She should have stayed in the
shtetl
, the community would be well rid of her kind. The fact that Dovid, Moishe and Dvora had worked as hard as the others was now irrelevant. This commune only had room for those who were completely dedicated.

Dovid went out and looked at the land he’d helped to clear. He had made his contribution, but he felt a deep regret knowing he would not be there when the first crop was harvested. Quickly he went back, gathered his family together and left.

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