Shira (27 page)

Herbst was jostled, sometimes by a drunken sailor, sometimes by an ordinary person. Still, Herbst functioned under his own power, dispatching his eyes in whatever direction he chose: at the pedestrians, the houses and stores, the vehicles and their passengers, those little houses in Nahlat Shiva with larger structures and stores built to the right and left of them, about to swallow them up, along with all of Nahlat Shiva. The neighborhood, being modest and discreet, accepted its fate in silence. But, as you and I well remember, it paved the way for the building of modern Jerusalem, providing it with the vigor and courage to expand. When Herbst first arrived in Jerusalem, Nahlat Shiva, with its stone buildings, was still a defined neighborhood. Now it is overshadowed by houses built of concrete and stores with goods Jerusalem had no need of until they appeared, or, let’s say, until the shopkeeper explained how necessary they were. Herbst, who generally stayed at home, whose shifts and changes led him from workroom to dining room to bedroom, is suddenly in the midst of a crowd. There are many people on the street, so many that he can’t see if there is a friend or acquaintance among them. He doesn’t recognize anyone, yet he feels he is a partner, though the nature of the partnership is unclear. He sees himself as part of the crowd. He suddenly finds himself standing in front of a large store. Its windows are brightly lit, and the wares are skillfully arranged to catch the eye of strollers.

What did I want to look at? Herbst asked himself. I didn’t want to look at anything. Actually, I did. Before he could decide whether or not he did, he was interrupted by a bell being rung by the shoeshine boy sitting in ambush at the edge of the street. Herbst’s thoughts were interrupted. He looked up and saw a small boy sitting at the entrance to an office building, one hand on a bell, the other on a bristled implement. The boy jingled the bell again and said to him, “Here, here, sir. Let me shine your shoes. I’ll do it tiptop.” The word appealed to Herbst. He laughed and said, “If you can really do it tiptop, I’ll let you shine my shoes.” The boy said, “If I don’t do a good job, you don’t have to pay.” Herbst said, “That’s not the point. Just make it tiptop.” The boy said, “All right, sir.” Herbst extended his foot. The boy picked up his tools and began to work. Herbst watched him and said, “I see you are really making it tiptop. What do you earn in a day?” Herbst also asked the boy where he lived and if he had a father, a mother, brothers, sisters. I’m not sure just how interested Dr. Herbst really was. But the boy answered, adding even more information than was asked for.

This is roughly his story. His father had left his mother for someone younger, his mother having aged rapidly because she worked so hard, at home and away from home, in the homes of Ashkenazim, who are so rich that they don’t have to work and their work is done by others. As for his brothers, one of them, sort of a
halutz
, who studies at night and can even read a newspaper, was in partnership with a Yemenite. The Yemenite would give him a pile of newspapers to distribute and a share of the profits. On Friday nights, he would bring home a newspaper and sit reading it, like a scholar with a sacred text. And what about the sisters? They were up to no good. Victoria went with some Englishman. She was attacked by fanatics, who beat her up and poured acid on her face, which ruined her looks. When the Englishman saw this, he got angry and said he would kill all the Jews. Balfouria heard this and began to cry inconsolably. She said to the Englishman, “Don’t kill the Jews.” He took her to the movies, and she didn’t come back. When she came home in the morning, Victoria jumped on her, bit her, pulled her hair, shouted, and wept. Our brother Musa appeared and beat up Victoria and Balfouria, screaming, “I’ll kill all the English! They’re making our girls into whores! Even if they kill me, I’ll kill them first.” Then he joined forces with Fat Musa, who loved Balfouria dearly. They planned to ambush the Englishman, and Mother was terrified that Musa would kill him. Musa has a fierce temper, and, when he is angry, he turns red as a bull’s blood; his eyes get twice as red, so he can’t see what he is doing. He pounds with his fists, kicks, and thrusts his head into the enemy’s belly until the victim collapses in defeat.

After having his shoes shined, Herbst went to a candy shop and bought some bittersweet chocolate. He didn’t know what type of chocolate Shira preferred, but the package was attractive and the price was high, so he chose that one.

Herbst left the store pleased with himself, since he knew where he was going and he had succeeded in buying chocolate. Sometimes, when he had in mind to buy something for Shira, he restrained himself, out of fear of being seen. He imagined everyone was watching him and knew just what he was up to. Now, having entered and emerged, unscathed, he directed his feet toward the streets that lead to Shira’s.

He met Lisbet Neu. He greeted her, and she returned his greeting, saying, “You still remember me?” He offered her the chocolate. “This is evidence that I was thinking of you. Look and you’ll see. I wrote your telephone number on the wrapper. I was about to call you.” Lisbet looked at the wrapper and saw no sign of a number. Herbst said, “Oh my goodness, the salesperson switched packages. If you have room in your purse, please take it.” Lisbet said, “To waste one’s money on such things!” Herbst said, “I bought it for my daughter, but she left.” Lisbet said, “Then keep it until she comes back.” Herbst said, “When she comes, I’ll buy her another. Meanwhile, my dear, eat the chocolate and remember me.” Lisbet said, “I remember you even without it.” He looked at her fondly, wondering why he didn’t feel as he used to feel and respond as he used to respond. Whenever he saw her, he used to be refreshed by a breath of innocence. Now his soul was unmoved and his spirits were low.

Has there been a change in me or in her? Herbst asked himself. It’s not that, but…I’ll watch and see.

The street was buzzing. The pastimes that occupied the passersby were passed back to them by the street. But he withdrew from the tumult into which he had been propelled and eyed Lisbet obliquely to determine if the change was in her. His eyes lighted on the bag slung over her shoulder with the chocolate in it. Your present was taken away, Shira, and given to Lisbet Neu, Herbst remarked to himself.

Lisbet Neu interrupted his conversation with himself and said, “If you would like, Dr. Herbst, you could walk a little way with me. Only a little way. I know you are busy and have no time to waste.” Herbst said, “I’d be glad to walk all the way home with you.” Lisbet Neu said, “That’s more than I asked, and not what I intended.” Herbst said, “Intentions don’t preclude action.” Lisbet Neu looked up at him, struggling to fathom his words.

When they had walked a few paces, his mouth was empty, and he could find nothing to say. He thought: Will we walk in silence, like those couples who are weary of each other? He lit a cigarette and said, “If the lady agrees, we can stop for coffee.” Lisbet Neu said, “With your permission, I’d rather walk. I’ve been sitting in the office all day, and I don’t get a chance to stretch my legs. That’s why you found me on the street. If it’s all right with you, Dr. Herbst, let’s walk a bit.” Herbst said, “Let’s walk.”

They left Ben Yehuda Street and were on a road that had no name yet but is now called Shammai Street. They were suddenly encircled by the quiet that sweetens the summer nights of Jerusalem in those few remaining spots that have not been ruined by this perplexed generation. When they reached such a place, Lisbet Neu began telling about herself, things that astonished Herbst. Lisbet Neu said, “All my energy is wasted selling furniture and dealing with customers.” After talking about furniture and customers, she began to discuss how girls were educated, the fact that they were not taught a trade. What were they taught? To hope for husbands. And husbands didn’t appear, since most husbands were looking for a dowry and most girls didn’t have a dowry. Even back in Germany, where life was orderly and conventional, it was hard to find matches for daughters. Here in the Land of Israel, where there was so little order and few conventions, these young women hoped in vain. From these young women and their plight, she turned to tales of travel in Africa which she had been reading. One can hardly say there is a connection between the education of women and tales of Africa. Still, she saw some connections; but Herbst wasn’t listening.

They were already beyond the quiet streets, entering an area filled with houses, stores, pedestrians. When Herbst first came to Jerusalem, this entire territory was desolate. Now it was bustling, mostly with Jews, but with a few Arabs and a few Englishmen as well – Jews because they lived here; Arabs because, if the Jews thought that building houses and opening stores gave them the land, that’s not how it was going to be. For the time being, they were simply here; but, in time, they would have a chance to deal with the Jews. And why were the English here? They were here to bestow peace on the land. But, from the day they arrived, they have promoted hatred, envy, and contention, which will end in murder and bloodshed.

Herbst and Lisbet Neu didn’t talk about the usual subjects – Lisbet Neu, because she wanted to speak of her own affairs; Herbst, because he wanted to hear what she had to say. But Lisbet didn’t get around to her own concerns, because whatever she thought of seemed too trivial to say to this learned man, whose name she first heard from her uncle when he went to visit him. Whether or not her concerns were important, Herbst enjoyed her verbal contortions.

By now they had reached the little neighborhood adjacent to Orhot Hayim, where Lisbet Neu and her mother lived. This neighborhood, too, was sometimes called Orhot Hayim, after its elder sister, which was built first, and sometimes it was called by another name in honor of one of its settlers; there was still no consensus as to its name. How long did Lisbet Neu walk with Herbst? Whether she walked a lot or a little, she was tired, because she had been slaving all day in the store or the office, because she hadn’t had a hot meal all day, and because she had walked so far. For all these reasons, she was tired. And, for this reason, she linked arms with Herbst, which she had never done before with a man.

As sometimes happens, a man happened to pass. He stared at her. Perhaps he knew her, perhaps he didn’t. But he was surprised, since it was not the custom in Orhot Hayim for a woman to link arms with a man. Because I don’t intend to dwell on him – in fact, I doubt that I will refer to him again – I will ignore him and get back to Herbst and Lisbet Neu. Herbst was also surprised, not for the same reason, but for his own reasons, being so aware of her innocence.

Herbst and Lisbet were walking as one in Orhot Hayim, the neighborhood in which Lisbet Neu and her mother found an apartment when they came to the country. They had gone to Jerusalem the day they arrived, since, of all the places in the Land of Israel, Jerusalem was the one place they knew – not only through the prayerbook, but through fundraising letters sent out by charitable institutions in Jerusalem to everyone everywhere. In those days, when the Jewish community of Germany was tranquil and Lisbet’s father, Mr. Neu, was alive, an emissary arrived from the Land of Israel. He had been sent by an organization with plans to set up a school near Jerusalem, where Torah would be taught, as well as trades. The school day would be divided equally between Torah studies and vocational training, so the boys would be able to support themselves when they grew up. Mr. Neu was impressed with this project and made a sizable contribution. When he heard the school was to be built in Orhot Hayim, adjacent to several poor neighborhoods with many abandoned children, he began sending a portion of his annual tithe to the treasurer of this institution. He enclosed his daughter’s tithe as well, having trained her to set aside for worthy causes a portion of the monthly allowance she received from him. Mr. Neu used to combine the two sums and send them both together. I don’t know where that school is; even if it no longer exists, the neighborhood exists, and Mrs. Neu and her daughter, Lisbet, chose to live there.

That little neighborhood sits in darkness, like a rug on which a weaver has outlined houses and gardens in blues and grays. The houses are houses, the gardens are gardens, and their colors are the dusk that envelops them, for those who live in the neighborhood are mostly people of limited means. They skimp wherever possible, certainly on lights on a summer evening, when even the darkness gives off light. And if it doesn’t give light, it’s good to sit in the dark. In the darkness one is unaware of the house’s defects – its sinking floor, a crooked wall, crumbling plaster, a leaky faucet in the kitchen. The sound of a loud radio blares forth from one of the houses, the occupant having pitched its volume to let the neighbors hear, since not everyone has a radio. The tone is political, but the words are from the prophets.

Dr. Herbst and Lisbet Neu traversed the entire neighborhood and were now at the other end. If this was not the end of the world, it was surely the end of civilization. There were no houses here, no tents, no permanent structures, no temporary ones; only rock and bramble. The rock rolls downward, with clefts that form a series of steps. If these clefts were not made by God, they are almost certainly the ones Solomon described in the Song of Songs: “My dove, in the clefts of the rock, hidden in the cliff.” Manfred Herbst and Lisbet Neu are already far from the heart of the neighborhood or any part of it, and another scent and another sound take over – the fragrance of grass and the sound of wind stirring the grass; the scent of thorns sun-dried by day and dampened by evening dew. Along with the sound of the wind in the grass, a two-part song is being sung by a girl and boy perched in a cleft of the rock, a song with words that are in the melody, words to suit each listener. The fine scent from the rock and bramble, along with the singing, make this night like those Jerusalem nights long ago when even we were young.

Lisbet Neu withdrew her arm from Herbst’s and said, “Let’s turn back.” Herbst was surprised, though there was no reason for surprise. He had, in fact, meant to see her home, and now that she was there, it was time for her to go in. Herbst asked Lisbet, “What’s the hurry?” Lisbet said, “They’re playing Mozart tonight, and the man with the radio invited me to listen. I’ve been wanting to hear Mozart for so long.” If Herbst had put his thoughts into words, he would have said to Lisbet, “Forget Mozart, and let’s go down to the rocks and sit there like that boy and girl.” But not all of a person’s thoughts are put into words. Herbst kept thinking: If I run my hand through her lovely hair, she won’t object; she might even let her lovely head slip down and rest on my heart. Herbst glanced at her and saw that her ears were tiny, her eyes sparkling. A woman with small ears likes to listen and doesn’t turn one away. He continued to look at her. Alarmed by his evil thoughts, he began to scrutinize himself: How depraved this man is, buying a gift for Shira, giving the gift to Lisbet, and telling her, “I bought it for my daughter.” He is on his way to Shira, yet he seeks to amuse himself with an innocent young girl.