Chapter 30, Bulldozer

The big tractor came again. It was yellow, big and noisy. All the kids were afraid of it. Yona, the dirty boy called it a bulldozer. "You see," he said, "if it doesn't have wheels, it's a bulldozer." That big thing didn't have wheels; it had these odd-looking chains, one on each side, like the big old tank in the Hebrew Battalion Museum in Avihayil.

Last week when the tractor came for the first time, the driver dug a big hole in the ground and made a bigger pile of sand next to it. After the driver left and the tractor was sitting silently with its huge plow on the ground. (Dad told me that the reason for the low position was to prevent kids from getting crushed by the heavy plow when it's left alone after work.) All of us went to play on the big pile. Yona, the dirty boy, sat on the tractor, made loud noises, moved his arms up and down, and pretended he was the driver. All the rest of us played on the pile. We would climb to the top of the pile and then roll down to the bottom of the pit, or sometimes, we'd slide down on our bellies. I found a big piece of cardboard from a large box and used it as a sled to go down the steep hill fast. It was lots of fun.

The next day the tractor covered the hole and left, but the following day it came again to the other side of the street next to Gadi's house near the newcomers' temporary settlement.

"They're building more houses for more newcomers from Morocco," Gaddi said. "That's what my dad told me," he added. 

Again, at the end of the day, when the tractor driver left, we went to play in the pile, going up and down, up, and down. Again, the next day the tractor covered the hole and left us without the pile. I remember how we all stood next to the temporary fence that said, "Keep out, people working" and sadly saw our favorite playground disappearing.

Therefore, we decided to protest. That day, before the tractor started to cover the hole, we would climb on the pile and play. As soon as we got back from school, we went to the site and snuck behind the one-armed foreman who was yelling at the driver, "Left, right, left, left, no, no, right!" 

We climbed the hill, tumbled down to the pit and up again, just to roll down again. All that without knowing that the tractor had started to cover the pit.

"Get away from there, right now!" We heard the foreman yelling at Yona, the dirty boy, who was at the bottom of the pit. "You too," he pointed with his only arm at the newcomer boy from Morocco, Rammi.

Rammi and his older brother Pierre had been in Israel only two months, and they didn't speak Hebrew yet. I spoke French with them, I was the translator for the children in our neighborhood. Rammi was only four-and-a-half, and Pierre was eight. He was supposed to be in the class above mine, but he went to the orthodox school and was kept back a year because of his difficulties with Hebrew.

"Out, out, all of you! All of you! Can't you see we are working here?" The foreman kept on yelling at us. None of us wanted to stop playing, but we had no choice. I translated the message to Rammi and Pierre, and they got out of the pit. 

"Out there, behind the fence, all of you!" 

He was a mean man. The foreman obviously didn't like children. We stood next to the fence and sadly watched the big ugly tractor covering our playground, when suddenly, Rammi jumped into the pit. He started climbing up the pile, while the tractor was pushing the sand into the pit. Before a moment passed the little boy was covered. 

"Get out of there," I yelled in French, but Rammi did not get out; he was covered with dirt. "We have to do something," I said. But no one was there. I looked back and saw all the children running away yelling while Pierre was running toward his home crying, "Mama, Mama, Mama." 

For a moment I didn't know what to do. I stood motionless, for what seemed a long time, I think. Then, I don't know how, but I found myself in front of that big monster waving my hands and yelling. "Stop! Stop! Stop!" 

The driver didn't see me, neither did the one-armed foreman. The noise of the tractor was very loud, nobody heard me. So, I shoved two fingers in my mouth and blew a loud whistle I ran to the side of the tractor. The moment the driver stopped, I climbed on those ugly chains and yelled, "Stop, stop. Th... th... there's a boy covered in... in the hole."

The driver immediately jumped out and said: "What? Where? Come with me." 

We both ran down the pit and started to dig. From the corner of my eye, I saw the other kids running back from their homes, Gaddi with his father; Yona, the dirty boy, with his big mother; Moshiko with his father and his funny Turkish grandfather, and Pierre with both of his parents. As the driver and I started to dig, he yelled: "Someone, please get an ambulance!" 

The sand was fine, and it was very easy to move. A few moments later, we pulled Rammi out. He was blue and lifeless. He looked like a rag hanging in the driver's arms. The driver laid Rammi flat on the ground and bent over him to blow air in his mouth. Is that how dead people look? I wondered to myself.

"What happened?" I heard someone asking. 

"My baby!" his mother screamed in French. 

The driver was still blowing air in Rammi's mouth when the paramedic arrived, and, at the same time Rammi opened his eyes, coughed loudly, and started crying. 

"We will have to take him to the hospital. Who are his parents?" the paramedic asked. 

"We are right here," Rammi's father answered in broken Hebrew. 

The paramedic picked Rammi in his arms, and they all left in the ambulance. At the same time the police arrived and made their way into the crowd that surrounded me and the driver. 

"Who saw what happened?" the tall policeman asked. 

"I did," I said. 

"You? Come here. We have some questions to ask you."

Well, the police were not the only people to ask questions. After the police took the information from me and took the driver and the one-armed man to the station, I had to spend the rest of the evening, the next day, and the rest of the week talking about it.

  

 

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Shakshuka

A North African popular dish. “Shakshuka” means a mixed-up dish. Made from leftovers or the ingredients below. But usually, you might find other ingredients like hot sausages or other meat. You may vary the heat with different spices to your liking. In short, it is Poached Eggs in red sauce.

Ingredients:

1 Cup Crushed Tomatoes (canned would doo too)

½ Chopped Onion

2 Crushed Garlic Cloves 

½ Chopped Red Pepper

½ Chopped Jalapeno

1 tsp Paprika

¼ tsp Salt

A Pinch Black Pepper

4 Eggs

2 TBSP Olive Oil

½ Cup Water

 

Preparation:

Sauté the onion to soften, add garlic, then pepper, jalapeno, paprika, black pepper in that order. When all is softly caramelized add the crushed tomatoes with the water. Bring to boil and simmer for 30 minutes. Stir well and throw in the eggs, cook until eggs are poached. Serve hot with bread or pita.

 

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