No Time for Tears (16 page)

Raizel had grown in grace and loveliness. There was nothing too difficult for her to do as she assumed chores beyond a girl of eleven. Dvora, on the other hand, was a girl of great spirit who had never forgotten the Galilee, and deeply felt a yearning to go back to the land. For weeks she debated with herself, then got up the courage to tell Chavala and Dovid that she was leaving to join a youth group that had just formed in the Galilee—a girls’ training farm that had recently been launched thanks to the determination of Dr. Ruth Levy, herself a member of the second
Aliva.
She conceived the idea of a farm where girls would be taught, in addition to domestic science, market-gardening, poultry breeding and dairy farming.

With Dvora’s announcement Chavala’s world did seem threatened. She couldn’t share Dvora’s enthusiasm and excitement. She knew her reasons were selfish, but she’d already lost Sheine and now clung tenaciously to at least try to keep her family together.

Dvora, knowing Dovid would understand, told him, “Dovid, you must help me make Chavala understand I’m no longer a child. This means a great deal to me … everything, really. Zichron is fine for Chavala, but I’m not her.”

“Let her go,” Dovid told his wife. “It’s right. To deprive her would only make her miserable, and eventually you too.”

“We’re gradually losing them, aren’t we, Dovid? First Sheine, now Dvora …”

“They’ve grown up, Chavala. Give her your blessings so that she won’t need to feel any guilt.”

Chavala did, but the day that Dvora left, Chavala felt as though she had lost a piece of herself.

Dvora fitted immediately into life in the Galilee. In the early mornings she would wake up with a special excitement, dress and leave quietly while the others slept so that she could see the sunrise. She inhaled the perfume of the morning air, watched, felt nature all around her. The earth beneath her feet would soon, she felt, reveal all its secrets. She looked up to see the birds in flight. And with it all … there was a dream that lay dormant in her, a dream that would soon be awakened….

Three years before, a group called Haikkar Hatzair, “The Young Farmer,” had been formed in the United States by twelve young students from the Jewish agricultural college in Woodbine, New Jersey, who were preparing to live on the land in Palestine. After leaving college each member of the group acquired practical experience in a specific branch of farming, anticipating the system that was later adopted by the
chalutzim.
With $5,000 they appealed to the Palestine Land Development Company to take over the farm, complete with livestock and equipment, for one year. The two youth settlements were within a short walking distance, and when one or the other was in need of a piece of equipment they readily shared…

Dvora had just come out of the milking shed when she saw off in the distance a young man carrying a small incubator. Looking in her direction he called out, “
Shalom
.”

“
Shalom
.”

As the two came closer Dvora felt a sensation new to her but ancient to females her age and older … Now face to face with the young
chalutz
, the feeling was both frightening and exhilarating at the same time. Feeling peculiar, she averted her eyes when he said “I’m from Haikkar Hatzair and I’ve come to deliver this. Incidentally, my name is Ari Ben-Levi.”

“And mine is Dvora Rabinsky,” she said so quietly he barely caught it.

As the two proceeded on to the main building Ari said, “How long have you been here?”

“For a month now. And you?”

“I arrived three days ago from America.”

“From
America?
”

“It’s not the moon.”

“I didn’t mean it that way … you won’t laugh if I tell you something?”

“I promise.”

“I was just thinking of my sister, who’s always wanted to go to America and here you’ve come to Eretz Yisroel… I don’t think this is making any sense.” She laughed nervously.

“Makes a lot of sense. My family escaped the ghettos of Poland and couldn’t understand my giving up the good life to come here and work. It just shows how the pendulum swings.”

“Your Hebrew is so perfect, I thought you were born here. I’m afraid mine still has a Yiddish accent. Is your name really Ari Ben-Levi?”

“I was born Richard Levi. Not bad, one generation removed from the ghetto. But it isn’t Richard Levi any longer, it’s Richard Lee. That’s what you call becoming Americanized … Well,” he said as they got to the poultry station, “it’s been very nice meeting you, Dvora …”

For the rest of that day she thought of Ari Ben-Levi and absolutely nothing else. Except that she might die if he didn’t come back soon.
Very
soon.

On Sunday he did. Looking up from her milking stool, she saw him framed in the doorway. She could
hear
her heart beat, her palms were wet. He was more handsome than she’d even remembered. “
Shalom
,” he said smiling and spreading his hands, “I guess I’m what you call an aggressive American. I’d like to see you today …”

Swallowing, she said, “I’ll be through in about an hour.”

“No hurry … I’ll wait.” He waited, this aggressive American, a week before getting up the courage to come back, a week when his thoughts had been of Dvora and little else. She was absolutely the loveliest thing he’d ever seen … her hair was the color of rich brown molasses and her eyes a sort of amber. Her waist was slim, and her bosom just round enough to excite him. If there was such a thing, Ari felt this was love at first sight. And what a sight…

When her chores were done Dvora slipped into a pair of fresh white shorts and pulled the blue cotton knit top over her head, buckled her sandals and glanced at herself in the mirror. Her face was flushed in spite of the tan. She ran a comb through her hair and was out the door of the small bungalow she shared with three other
chaveroth.

At first they just stood awkwardly, then Ari managed,” Since you know your way around better than I, what do you suggest?”

“Let’s hike to the top of the hill, the view from there is great.”

When they got to the top and looked about, there was a stillness that seemed to make them feel closer … as though they were the only two people left in the world. They looked out on the snow-topped peak of Mount Hermon. Pink and white clouds floated languidly in the blue sky, and below could be seen the Sea of Galilee. It looked even lovelier today, standing here with Ari, than the first time she’d seen it, when Dovid had said, “Come, Dvora, I want you to see this and remember it all your life.” She would remember it, and she would remember more this moment. Neither spoke. There was no need for words.

They sat down under carob trees, and Dvora unpacked the small lunch she’d brought with her. After they’d eaten they lay back and looked up at the sky visible in patches through the branches.

Slowly Ari’s hand found hers, and in the silence of that lazy afternoon he said, “I love you, Dvora. It happened the moment I saw you. I mean it, I don’t care how sudden it seems …”

“I believe you, Ari. Especially since it’s the same for me …”

There was nothing awkward, not even hesitant, as he turned to embrace her and their lips met. For them it was more than a kiss, it was a lifetime pledge. As enduring for them as this land they’d both dedicated their lives to…

B
Y 1914 IT WAS
a far different Palestine than the one Chavala and Dovid had first come to. The Jews now numbered some eighty-five thousand. The old Yishuv who had been in the country before the Zionist immigration was still concentrated in the four holy cities and still lived largely on contributions from abroad. They were alien to the new life that was evolving in Palestine and looked on it with a combination of apathy and even hostility.

Their opposition was partly based on religious grounds, but even more on the fear that the funds from abroad would be increasingly for building up modern settlements, thus causing their own sources of income to dry up. The influence of the new worker settlements hardly touched Jerusalem and Hebron. The workers mostly found employment in the villages of lower Galilee. Tiberius was growing into an economic center, and the Jewish population of Haifa and Jaffa owed its development to economic forces rather than to historical or religious associations. The opening up of new shipping, the laying of railroad lines between Jaffa and Jerusalem and Haifa quickened the economic pulse. Jaffa was the principal port of Palestine as well as the center of Judean settlements. Jaffa also became the cultural center of the Yishuv. The first Hebrew schools were opened in Jaffa, the Zionist institutions and workers’ federations had their offices there, topped off by the building of the first Jewish city—Tel Aviv. The former settlements were now replaced with kibbutzim that were gradually becoming the backbone of the Yishuv.

At the outbreak of the First World War the Yishuv was numerically stronger and better organized than at the beginning of the Zionist settlements. It had advanced enormously since the unity of the working-class parties. Federations of agricultural workers were formed in Judea and Galilee, and were administered by an elected body, the Merkaz Chaklai. But for all that had been accomplished, much still depended on the Jews in the Diaspora.

Turkey didn’t enter the war immediately, but her pro-German leanings were all too apparent. It was to be only a matter of time … A state of emergency was proclaimed throughout the Ottoman Empire and general mobilization began to protect Turkish “neutrality.” Turkish shipping in the Black Sea and the Aegean was stopped. The Bosphorus and Dardanelles were closed to foreign vessels. Egypt declared war against Germany and went under British protection, whose ships no longer could use Palestinian ports.

In September foreigners came under the jurisdiction of the Turkish courts. They also lost postal facilities, so their correspondence was likely to be tampered with. And so the immigrant Jews in Palestine were cut off from the countries they’d emigrated from.

While the old Yishuv, divided as it had been before into factions and communities, stood by helplessly the new Yishuv was aroused. Its center was in Tel Aviv. Only a few days after the war began an emergency committee was set up.

In spite of all the efforts made in Palestine to cope with hardship, the Jews would have gone under if it hadn’t been for help from America. The American warship
North Carolina
put into Jaffa with $50,000. Later on, other American ships entered Palestinian waters. This evidence of America’s interest in the fate of the Yishuv not only showed the Jews that they had a friend, it also raised their standing in the eyes of the non-Jewish population and the local Turkish authorities. People with rich friends in America were people who might be worth a little extortion.

On orders of the American donors a central committee was set up to supervise the distribution of the relief funds. Palestine was divided into regions—Jerusalem, Haifa, Galilee, Samaria and Judea. The American Zionist Organization decided what the funds were to be used for. All this American aid was especially timely when on October 31, 1914, Turkey entered the war and the call went out to the Islamic world to join in a holy war against the Allies. Unprecedented hardships now began for the Yishuv. Its very existence was now at stake. Turkey at first ordered all enemy nationals transferred from Palestine to the interior of the Ottoman Empire. Thanks to the American and German ambassadors, though, Jews were at least allowed to opt for Turkish nationality and stay in Palestine. Those who didn’t had to leave the country. The Jews weren’t happy with the alternatives, but the salvation of the Yishuv depended on it. As for military service, Christians could buy exemption, but the Jews had to serve, and many of them were drafted into labor battalions, where they died of disease or starvation.

Jamal Pasha, commander of the Fourth Army Corps, was appointed supreme governor of Syria and Arabia, and he had a fitting lieutenant in the person of the Baha al-Din, who had gained practical experience in the art of destroying whole groups of minorities in Armenia. The Zionists and Jewish national institutions were considered by Jamal Pasha and his minions as Turkey’s real enemy. The first steps taken against them in October 1914 were such things as prohibiting the use of Hebrew in Tel Aviv; all inscriptions had to be in Turkish and Arabic, beneath which Hebrew might appear only in small lettering. Tel Aviv was surrounded by troops. Searches were conducted in the homes of the leading Zionists, many of their papers were confiscated, presumably to expose the separatist aims of Zionism. A number of Zionists were arrested and sentenced to deportation, the use and possession of JNF stamps were punishable by death. Jews were not allowed to protect Jewish suburbs and the Judean settlements. The Hebrew language and the Hebrew script in correspondence were prohibited. The Zionist flag and Jewish administrative institutions were declared illegal. Transfers of land to Jews were forbidden, and the authorities tried to gain possession of the title deeds to land already in Jewish hands.

At noon on December 17, 1914, Baha al-Din issued an order that all foreign nationals had to leave, that a ship was due to lay anchor at Jaffa at four o’clock the same afternoon. Soldiers and police seized Jews—men and women, old people and children—in the streets and locked them up. In the evening they were hustled to the quayside and put into boats, which were to take them out to the ship. Husbands were separated from wives, parents from children. Trials began, indicting prominent Zionists, among them Yitzchak Ben-Zvi and David Ben-Gurion, both by now high in the labor movement. Ben-Zvi’s punishment was hard labor for an article describing the brutality used during the deportations. Ben-Gurion was accused of being subversive … “It is your aim to establish a Jewish state in Palestine. I decree that you will leave the country… meanwhile you will be imprisoned.”

At first Galilee suffered less than Judea; but not for long. Requisitioning was intensified. Draft animals, farm implements and stores of grain were seized for the army. The settlements were forced to supply men, horses and carts for work on military installations at Beersheba, and many died from diseases contracted as a result of back-breaking work under miserable conditions….