Chapter 39, Borochov
1965
“Are you ready?” asked mom. “We have an appointment at your new school, you don’t want to set a bad impression before you start.”
We had a long walk ahead of us. The new school was closer to downtown Netanya. We were about to move to a new neighborhood.
“I wish we were staying here” I said to mom.
“I know,” she said. “Me too, but you saw the landlord decided he wants to move back into this house and your dad found us an apartment. It is going to be our own apartment, no more paying rent.”
“Yeah, but all my friends are here, and I will have to start over at another school.” To myself I was thinking about the blond girl I met on our class trip to Tel Aviv. I will never have a chance to be with her in the same class.
“You will make new friends.”
“I hope so.”
The new school was called Be’eri” (it means, My Well”) after Berl Katznelson, a Zionist leader who started the Israeli Union. The school was located on “Be’eri street and right next to the Union’s Medical Center.
“See”, said Mom, we will need to get a new doctor too. Here is the medical center we will have to go to when we are sick.”
We walked up the few stairs leading to our new school. It was a big school, much bigger than my school in Ein HaTchelet, even bigger that the one I was hoping to go to in Avihayil. It had two big buildings; one had 2 floors, and we can see right next to where the little kids were studying, they were building one taller building. The office of the principal was in the long one floor building not far from the “arts and crafts” classroom. This was something I have never seen before, and I was very excited about the prospect of exploring my art skills there.
“Did I offer you a sit?” Yelled my new school principal as soon as I took the seat in front of his desk
I jumped off the sit, as he immediately changed to a smile. A crooked smile, with a pipe pulling it to the right. His face was half frozen. I was told he had a dead smiling nerve on the right side of his face. The principal looked darker than me, his mom was Yemenite. He was bolding in the front center of his head. Not many Yemenite people get to a position like a school principal. Unfortunately, in Israel, those days, only Ashkenazic Jews were able to get an important job. Our principal was a new phenomenon, His father was Ashkenazi and therefore he was able to use his connections to get his son to this position. Slowly but surely, Israel was starting to mix its people and creating a new generation much less racist.
“I guess they didn’t teach you how to behave at your old school,” he said. “Whenever you go into someone’s else office or house, always, ask for permission to sit down.”
“I will,” I said shyly.
“Have a sit please,” he pointed to the 2 chairs in front of his desk.
Mom and I sat and looked at him waiting, as he was looking at my school grades and progress.
“I see, you didn’t have the highest grades, but I see you are a very bright boy, you have a very good potential.”
“Except that he is in dreamland” interrupted Mom.
“There are three different classes in our school. One for the smart ones, second for the ordinary kids and a third for the ones who need a little help.” He continued. “I could put you with the kids who need help, and I am sure you will be able to get great grades there if you put your mind to it, but I am afraid you will be too bored. I will put you in the tough 5th grade and you will have to work hard to keep up, but you will eventually make it.”
The move wasn’t so easy either. I went with dad to the “shook” – the open market where the porters and their horses were waiting for their daily jobs. Dad made an appointment with one of them and he came to our house to estimate the content of our house and how many carriages he will need to make the move. It turned out he needed 3 “platforms” – long flat carts pulled by horses. Each cart had a porter driving it. They were old skinny yet very strong. One of them just put the big refrigerator on his back and walked with it all the way to the platform.
The new apartment was small, much smaller than the hose we rented, but it was ours. It had a small kitchen a small shower, a dining area and two rooms connected to it. One was Mom and Dad and the other acted as living room and our sleeping space. We had to get 2 folding beds for us kids. Every morning Avi and I would fold the beds and push them to the sides of the room and pull the living room table with two chairs to the center. The best part of the place was our little balcony. We were on the first floor and we were able to see the back yard which the whole building shared right in front of us. Our building had four floors and four entrances. Each entrance had two units on each floor with a narrow staircase connecting us all. This neighborhood had a few similar buildings. There was one building in the northern side, it consisted for some reason all Ashkenazi people. The building behind us had only people from Libya or as they called themselves “Trabelsis” or “Tripolitanians” – the other name for the people who came from that country. To the west we had about four other buildings all the same as ours, but I didn’t venture to that area, I was told that many criminals live there.
Our apartment was in the second entrance. Behind the door in front of us lived the Garon family who recently moved from Turkey. The parents didn’t speak Hebrew, they spoke Ladino, it’s a language spoken amongst the Jews from Spain and other country where the Jews were expelled in 1492. Like the “Yiddish” language it was a way the Jews communicated since the Hebrew language was a holly language and was saved for services and Torah study. The Garons had 3 kids one boy who finished his elementary school and went to work at a bicycle repair store. And twins, a year younger than me. Yaakov and Sarah were very nice kids, most of the time. When they wanted something, and their Mom didn’t approve Sarah would start to wail for a long time in an annoying way that it disturbed even her aunt who lived at the fourth floor above them. “Who! Woooooohhhhhhh” she would cry sometimes until she fell asleep.
Sarah was very pretty. She was a little short for her age, but she had a long flowing hair down her back, black and silky. In no time we became friends, and we would visit each other and have many play dates together. Yaakov even slept over many times. On many Shabat days we would go to the beach together carrying our tuna sandwiches and fruit in a bag and Dad would have his fishing gear. It was a long walk to the beach from our new place. But it didn’t stop us from climbing up the hill and going down through staircase of the cliff to the beach. Those stairs were washed out almost every winter in a mud slide and the town had to repair them again and again.
At the beach we would keep walking north to the same old beach where we used to play when we lived in Ein HaTchelet. It was a rocky beach. A good place for fishing. The first thing we did when we got there, was to collect worms.
“Look Nanou and Avi,” said Dad. “you need to get really close to the rock and dig deep in the wet sand with both hands. Pull out as much sand as you can and dump it on the rock. Now, wash the rock with the sea water and see if there are worms in the sand. Like that one, see?”
“Nice!” I said.
“Yalk!” Avi said, “Disgusting!” almost throwing up.
Yaakov was better, he even learned how to put the worm on the hook. Avi liked holding the pole but not touching the worm. We all had a fishing pole, and we stood waiting for the fish to bight. I lost interest very quickly and went to play with Sarah.
***
Baked Salmon
Salmon is a red fatty fish, it is eaten fresh in sushi, fried, baked, grilled, or even grounded and made like hamburger. This dish is easy to prepare and take a very short time. It could be served cold or hot. And could be kept in the refrigerator for a few days.
Ingredients:
1 Fillet Fresh Skinned Salmon
1 tsp Salt
1 tsp Garlic Powder
1 tsp Paprika
1/8 tsp Cayenne Pepper
3 TBSP Mayonnaise
1 tsp Honey
1 TBSP Soy Sauce
Preparation:
Mix all the ingredients and create a sauce. Spread it on the fish to cover it all.
Bake at 450f for 7 – 10 minutes or until the mayonnaise burns a little. Chill and cut to serving pieces.
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