Only Yesterday (37 page)

The dog walks around with an idea to grapple, and pampers himself like a worm in an apple, and the thoughts of his heart cruise and soar, on the torments of the wicked and his own good score. He took a step and jumped up one more time, and uttered his parable in rhetoric and rhyme, Woe to you, damn bastards the fleas, you tortured my soul and don’t give me peace, your mouth never shuts from morning to night, as if on coyotes you sharpened your bite, I’m telling you, your end, as the start of it all, your end will be bitter as wormwood and gall, in abysses of water will you sink and drown, like the soldiers of Pharaoh you will go down. And let us add woe to the crawling lice, who feed on my flesh like they’re in paradise, sucking my blood my heart’s travail, swear by my head and swear by my tail, that by the time the sun appears, you’ll be gone from foot to ears. And you mosquitoes, angels of destruction, I shall sweep away your nasty destruction, and you will have no salvation, no relief, because you gave me so much grief, and on my blood that you have drunk, like the bird of the king, you’ve made yourselves a song to sing. And you, dunghill of vomit and feces and clay, you smeared on me plaster to lead me astray, here I stand on top of your height, and you won’t know your place by this time tonight. Not in vain my words will go off to and fro, revenge for my woes I shall wreak on my foe. And thus in an or—

nate tongue did he speak, like poets who prattle optimistic chic, and he polished his body, may your honors excuse, and jumped down to the bathhouse without any ruse. Sweet is optimism, to your soul and blood, but in the end come bitterness, mire, and mud.

And when he smelled the water, he stretched his legs, barking with joy. His loins were suddenly filled with quaking and all his limbs with fear and shaking. False teeth and trusses and shoes, wet towels and things that men will use, whatever came to hand, whatever they found, they threw at him fast, in anger profound. Stockings and slippers that give you a wrench, for no one can ever endure their stench. The dog sees that his luck does not hold, for he is in danger wherever he looks, and he fled inadvertently, lo and behold, to a house full of books. And thus our schlemiel, in full compliance, entered the library, Treasure of Science.

And there sit wise sages, the finest minds of the ages, con-cocting word pictures, and correcting the Scriptures, quoting their quotes and writing their notes, their hands holding quills, books piled up in hills, with pamphlets so ample and notebooks to sample, they multiply and increase and grow without cease. A camel who bore them would fall down afraid if a complete total ass didn’t come to his aid. And they copy and write avoiding imbroglios, from many old books and some ancient folios, and compose compositions one after another, for the sake of wisdom and the good of their brother. And as they sit, each in his seat, wisdom on his head and knowledge at his feet, a lowly creature did appear, the dog who had fled in panic and fear, their quill pens dropped out of their hands and they trembled, their breath fell off and they scrambled, and the books they were copying they didn’t even mention, for to fleeing they turned their attention. And the dog fled too. And not because of a primeval ban on the library, but because he feared that the books would be his tomb. And as the dog ran away and fled, he came to the houses of the Ethiopians. He stood there, as if he were under a spell, for all his life he had seen their roofs as black, and today they were painted blue. At last, he moved his feet and turned to the crooked street and passed the house of Ben-Yehuda and the street of the consulates, and it looked as if he meant to go to the Russian Compound, and from

there to the Old City, through the new gate, to Bab el Jedid. But his feet led him to Jaffa Road. And here they suddenly had a dispute, two feet wanted to go to Mahane Yehuda and one wanted to go to Sukkat Shalom and one didn’t want to go either here or there, and every sin-gle foot teases its comrade and says, I’m acting on behalf of our mas-ter and am going on his mission. Meanwhile, they sit idle and don’t do anything. A cart passed by and the carter saw the dog. He stretched out his whip and struck him. And if the horses hadn’t suddenly run, he would have hit him again. The dog shook himself and shouted. His legs heard and became alarmed. They all jumped together and started running, until their strength ran out and they stood still at the school of Alliance Israel.

The dog looked at the doors of the school and saw two hands clasped in brotherhood and friendship. Envy entered him, and he envied the human creatures whose hands don’t move from one another and he sighed for himself who was persecuted by them. That fool didn’t know that as far as hatred and persecution are concerned, all are equal, men as well as dogs. As he sat at the gate of the school, he wagged his tail and said, Here they teach all kinds of wisdom, maybe they’ll teach me why they hate me. His soul longed to know and his heart began yearning. But he was polite and didn’t go in suddenly, but stretched out on the doorsill of the building and waited until the teachers came out, saying to himself, Slowly, slowly. And as he sat, his mind got into a whirl, and as his mind whirled he started thinking, Maybe the calamity came from that man with the wet instrument, for until the hand of that man touched me I wasn’t hated and hounded. He recalled that day when he wandered into the neighborhood of the Bukharans and came across that wet instrument that dripped a cool moisture and he recalled that moment when the owner of the tool kicked him and all the troubles that had attached themselves to him ever since. He thrust his head toward his back, as he was accustomed to do because of the fleas. And he saw strange signs. It came to him that those signs were the handiwork of the owner of the instrument. And since his mind was calm he didn’t shout and didn’t throw a fit, but took heart and said, Everything is for the best. If I hadn’t been thrown out of the bathhouse I would have

bathed by now and all those signs would have been wiped out, now that they threw me out of the bathhouse and I didn’t bathe, I may find out the truth. At that moment, all his suffering was naught compared to the search for truth. And once again he turned his head back to see what were those signs and what was that truth. But all his pains were in vain because he couldn’t read. He was amazed and stunned, Everyone who sees me knows the truth about me, and I, who possess the truth itself, I don’t know what it is. He shouted loud and long, Arf Arf Arf, this truth, what is it? And while he was barking he returned his tongue to his mouth and scolded himself sternly, Fool, shut your trap and don’t scare folks. The teachers will come out soon and re-veal the truth.

As soon as the bell rang, the principal came out. The dog jumped at him and licked his stick and looked at that gentlemen with pleading eyes. And even though that gentleman was perfumed with various fragrances called eau de cologne, which a dog’s spirit is not comfortable with, the dog hid his nose from them and didn’t notice their smell, and he held himself out like an ignoramus who holds out a letter to the expert to hear what is written there, and all the while he whispers, Please sir, see what is written here. The principal saw letters, took a pair of glasses and matched them up with his eyes, and started reading, as was his wont from left to right. He connected the letters and joined them: BLK, and read: Balak. He smiled and said, The people of Jerusalem are experts in Humash and know that there was a wicked man Balak and so they name their dogs after him. He patted the dog’s head and chirped at him, Balak. But from right to left, the Hebrew letters read: KLB, dog. And the dog heard that he called him Balak and was amazed, but not offended.

Well then, we can call him Balak, too. And what was his name, perhaps he had a name and it sank and perhaps he didn’t have a name, as in some communities, where a man whose sons don’t survive doesn’t name his son in order to confound the Angel of Death, so he won’t know that there is a creature so-and-so. Balak wagged his tail and said, That’s it, exactly what I said, that grief came to me only through others. Because some dolt wrote things on me, do I deserve to be persecuted?

Truth has a covenant, that all who seek it seek the whole truth. Balak too. Since he paid heed to the truth he wasn’t content with some of it and sought to know the whole truth. He stood before the legs of the principal and called out, Arf Arf Arf, give me the interpretation of things, give me the true truth. The janitor came out and saw the dog and what was written on his back. He picked up his feet and ran away. Said Balak, He knows the truth, he knows the truth, but what shall I do since he ran away with it. And Balak was still far from the truth, at any rate investigating the truth was a bit of consolation for his sorrow, as in the verse of the divine poet

Blessed art thou, spirit of Inquiry, for you console me When billows of despair overcame my soul.

The Old and the Young

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All the time Isaac was on the ship with the old man, they weren’t close to one another because of their differences of opinion and their different concerns, for one ascended to build the Land and the other ascended to dig himself a grave. When they met years later in Jerusalem, the two of them were drawn to each other. Needless to say Isaac, for he was alone and forlorn and longed for the company of human beings, but so was the old man who sat inside his house among his close relations. If they had met right after they had ascended, they would have behaved as they behaved on the sea, but time, which makes close people distant, brings distant people close. With time, Isaac had changed some of his opinions, and so did Reb Moyshe Amram. Reb Moyshe Amram had thought the whole Land of Israel was made of synagogues and study houses and all its inhabitants were Godly scholars. In the end, most of those here are idle and quarrelsome, and they make of the Land a farce. And if there are people whose intentions are all for the sake of God, like his son-in- law Fayesh, not every good intention legitimates every act.

And another reason. All the time Reb Moyshe Amram lived outside the Land and stole an hour to study Torah, his Torah would revive him. When he was blessed to dwell in Jerusalem, and to sit all the days before the Book, the Torah lost its taste. He started paying heed to people’s conversations. At first he was amazed at their talk, then they began shrinking in his eyes. And in the end he was disgusted with them. Needless to say, he disliked their bans and excommunications, but also the clandestine dealings of the Distribution, which is the main support of Jerusalem and the secrets of the

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Societies and the administrators and the inspectors and the treasur-ers and the synagogue officers, the things all Jerusalem wrangles about, were too ugly for his attention. As active people who spent their whole life in the real world find no point in those empty issues the world’s idlers toil over. But for the love of God and the awe of Jerusalem, he held his tongue. When he discovered Isaac, that fel-low who earned his own livelihood with his own hands, his heart was drawn to him. And when a few days passed and he didn’t come, Reb Moyshe Amram said to his wife, What is it, Disha, our fellow doesn’t show up at our house. Said she, Too bad we didn’t ask him to come. Said the two of them, We should have gotten close to him. Reb Moyshe Amram repeated, All the days he was on the ship with us, my mind wasn’t comfortable with him, and now my heart is drawn to him. Said Disha, But I, the first time I set eyes on him, I saw he was a decent fellow. Said Reb Moyshe Amram, Your pity preceded your sense. Said Disha, Is it possible not to pity him, a fellow living in a strange land without any family. Said Reb Moyshe Amram, Shame on you, Disha, for calling the Land of Israel a strange land, but there is some truth in what you say. Here he has no rind and no kind. Harder than that, he lives without a wife. You remember, Disha, how he would brag and say all the children of Israel are comrades, especially in the Land of Israel. Where are his comrades? Once Isaac put off shaving his beard. He said to himself, That beard can show itself to that old man. He put on his Sabbath clothes and went to him.

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Isaac knocked on the door and Shifra came out to him. Said Shifra, My grandfather is going to Meron for Lag b’Omer and he went to the city to repair his eyeglasses before the trip. And where is her grandmother? Said Shifra, She and Mother went with him. Isaac was dis-heartened and wanted to go back. Said Shifra, The gentleman is tired from the heat, may he come in and rest a bit. Said Isaac, Tired I am not, but I will come in and wait until he comes back and will tell him goodbye before his trip. Too bad, too bad he is going away. Many times I wanted to come see him, and I don’t know why I didn’t come,

and now that I did come he’s going away. Shifra offered him a chair and he sat down. As soon as he sat down she went out.

Isaac sat there in the house of Reb Fayesh, the father of Shifra and son-in-law of old Reb Moyshe Amram. Many times Isaac had heard of the Keepers of the Walls, members of the Hungarian Society whose sting is evil. And here he is sitting in the home of Reb Fayesh, the most zealous of the zealots. Said Isaac to himself, It’s eas-ier to get into the home of the zealots of Jerusalem than to get into the home of the farmers of the settlements.

Isaac looked around. It was a stone house and its windows were open to the fields and the valleys and the dales and the hills. The sun cooled itself outside and didn’t pour out its wrath inside. The floor stones were washed with water and a refreshing moisture still rose from them. The walls were light blue and white and a round lamp hung down from the middle of the vaulted ceiling to the table, where a cloth was spread over half of it, as if for a meal. And in fact the table was set for a meal, for on weekdays, Reb Fayesh used to eat his meals alone, especially on those days when prayers of supplication are said. The rooms and the cloth and all the household objects were clean and neat, each one in its place.

Isaac began pondering and began comparing Shifra’s house with Sonya’s house. For on the last days before their estrangement, when she started working in the kindergarten, she didn’t keep her room neat and her table wasn’t set. When she invited Isaac to eat at her house, she didn’t put the olives in a bowl or the cheese on a plate or the bread in a basket, but placed them in front of him on the bare table without a cloth, wrapped in paper, as she had brought them from the shopkeeper. And an annoying lamp with sooty glass was smoking. Once Isaac said something to her. Sonya laughed and said, Am I a German girl to be fussy about such things? Isaac’s room isn’t handsome either. If we want to make an analogy, we would compare it to a turgid space where windows were opened so people would see its desolation. And his furnishings—four or five kerosene cans pushed together serve as his bed (for the German’s bed that Isaac bought in Meah Shearim was conquered by fleas. Nothing helped, neither Lysol nor carbolic acid nor the milk he used to block their