Chapter 46, Bedouins

1966

"The Arabs are coming! The Arabs are coming!" Bentzi came rushing to the front lawn yelling his lungs out. "The Arabs are coming! Don't you understand what that means?" 

We were all sitting on the grass choosing teams for “Hands Up”, a war game we were about to play. 

"What are you talking about?" Uri asked.

"It's not the first of April anymore!" said red head Benjamin. We called him Gingi, like my old friend from Havatzelet.

"No, I'm serious," yelled Bentzi, "They're here, the Arabs." His name was Ben Zion, but his mom called him Bentzi, and so did we. "I'm telling you the Arabs are coming. They're in our woods behind our landslide hill."

"Next to the Chawalulus?" asked “Rita Chita” with her scared voice.

"Oh, relax," said Yoni, "Nobody is going to hurt you even if you beg them to."

"What should we do?" asked Rivka.

"We should call the police" said Bentzi. 

"First let's see if he is telling the truth," I said.

We passed the Chawalulus' block very quietly. We didn't want them to get involved. They only caused problems, and we didn't want to have a neighborhood war. (The Chalalulus, that's what we called them, are the immigrants from Libya. They're loud and hot tempered and so are their disagreeable children. We called them that because they say “Chaala” for “come here”, “Chawa” for “what”, and they scream “Lululu” whenever they are happy.) We can’t get them involved when the Arabs are coming.

After passing the Chawalulus' block we climbed the tall sand pile and entered the woods. We walked very quietly and were very careful not to step on any dry branches. Avi, my brother, climbed a tree. He loves climbing trees. One day he climbed a very tall pine tree just to see if there were eggs in the crows' nest. This time he climbed the tree so he could check the distance in front of us.

"There they are," he whispered. "Next to the berry tree."

We all inched carefully to the bold area next to the berry tree, each one of us hiding behind a tree.

 "See that," said Bentzi, "Told you."

"Yes, you told us all right" I answered, "These are not the Arabs, these are Bedouins. I trust them more than I trust you. They are very friendly, and they even serve in the Israeli army."

"I don't care," he continued, "for me, they're still Arabs."

"Cin I helb you?"

The Arab accent startled all of us. We turned around to see who it was. Bentzi lay on the floor in an instant and covered his head with both hands, but it was only a young boy maybe ten or eleven years old.

"Oh, hi," said Rivka, "He is so dirty," she whispered to Rita Chita. "Ahem, what is your name?"

"Hamid," the young boy answered. "Hamid Iben Mahmood, my fath..."

"O.K., see you later, bye," Rita Chita said and turned around to leave. In an instant everybody left, including my brother Avi. I was left alone with Hamid.

"My name is Haim, nice to meet you," I said and extended my hand. 

"Nice to meet you."

"Where did you come from?" I asked, "Are you planning to stay here for good? When did you arrive here?" The questions didn’t stop coming.

"We came from the south near Beer Sheva, and we are on our way north to Mount Carmel. We will stay here for two more days. The sheep have to rest and eat well before we continue."

"Do you have any brothers and sisters?" I couldn't resist my curiosity. "Don't you go to school?"

"Oh yes, my father is a sheik, and he has many children. He has three wives; I am the son of his youngest wife. The other brothers and sisters are of the other wives."

"So how about school? Do you go to school?"

"Of course, but not now. You see, it didn't rain in the south this year, and we had to move north to feed the animals. I had to take a break from school. Come with me. I'll introduce you to my father."

We walked toward the tent. It was a huge tent made of black wool. There was a divider in the middle. On one side were the sheep and goats. On the other side was the family's area. Hamid's father was sitting in front of the entrance to the family's area. He was sitting on a big pillow and next to him was a tall glass bottle that had smoke coming out of its top and a long hose reaching to the sheik's mouth.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Nargila – Hookah, a water pipe. My father likes smoking the nargila. Baba, meet my new friend, Haim." 

"Salaam aleikoom!" said the man in Arabic, that means peace be with you. 

"Aleikoom salaam!" I answered.

"Oh, you speak Arabic?"

"Just a little," I continued in Arabic.

"Come boys, sit next to me."

A young woman covered all in black came and brought a pot of water, put it on the fire in front of us, and gave us cups.

"Shay," she said. That meant tea.

"Yes, shukran," I said.

She left for a moment and returned with pitas, some spices, and dates. The tea was boiling by then and the sheik poured some for us. He poured my cup first, then he poured Hamid's, and only then, his own. 

"You are our guest today, is there anything you wish for? 

"All I wanted was to look around and see the animals," I said quietly.

"So, it will be done," the father said. "Just finish your drink and eat some. Then Hamid will show you around."

The last year at school we learned about the Bedouins. I remembered that it would be an insult if I didn't eat or drink all that was served. Not that it was bad, just that the tea was very strong and very sweet. The spices for the pita were different, something I never tried before. It was called “Zaatar”, some kind of Syrian Oregano mix. The dates were the only thing I really liked.

"You know," Sheik Mahmood said, "In bad times three dates and a pita is all that we eat a whole day"

"That's all?"

"Yes, but only in bad times so don't worry about it. You can eat as much as you want."

I felt guilty. Hamid just told me that it was a dry year in the south, and that's the reason they came here. I shouldn't eat so many.

"Eat, eat!" Repeated the Sheik.

"No, thank you, I had enough. My stomach hurts" I lied. This trick always works.

We went through the curtain that divided the tent. They had sheep, goats, some chickens and cute baby lambs, little, white, and curly. They were crying, "Bah, bah," and were nursing milk from their moms. Outside Hamid showed me the camels.

"They carry all the load," he said. "My brother has a pick-up truck, and he takes most of the stuff on it, but Dad doesn't want to buy one. We are Bedouins, he says, not spoiled lazy people."

There were some donkeys and some horses next to the camels. 

"This is my horse," Hamid said proudly, "Do you want to ride it?"

"No thanks," I said, "My stomach still hurts." I was a little afraid of riding that horse, but you didn't expect me to tell him that, do you?

The next day I came to play with Hamid, and again, his father invited us to sit with him again. He told us stories about horses, and heroes and we drank more tea and ate pitas.

When I returned home, I saw Bentzi on the front lawn.

"Gave up on your friends?" he asked in a nasty tone.

"Wait a minute," I said " It wasn't me that left the field when we met the Bedouins. They're very nice and I had a very good time with them."

"You traitor!" 

"I'm not a traitor. Why don't you come with me tomorrow and you'll meet them too.”?

"Only if everybody comes, too"

He was afraid, I knew that. He was afraid.

"O.K."

The next day I rushed back from school, and as soon as everybody showed up, we went to see the tent.

"Where is the tent? What happened?" Avi asked disappointed.

"They're not here," said Rivka.

"I forgot," I said, "Hamid told me that they were leaving today."

We turned around disappointed and walked back to our favorite playground. After a few slides down the sandy hill, we forgot all about the Bedouins.

 

 

***

 

Mujadara

This is a popular Arabic dish. It is healthy and nutritious. Not too difficult to make. You just need to remember not to touch the rice while it is cooking.

Ingredients:

1 Cup Brown Rice

2 Cups Water

½ Onion

2 Garlic Cloves 

½ Cup Brown Lentil

1 tsp Salt

2 TBSP Olive Oil

 

Preparation:

Sauté the onion and garlic in the olive oil, to almost burned and put aside. In a covered pot cook the rice (2 to 1 ratio) in water and salt until all the water evaporates and you see holes in the rice. Cook Lentil in separate pot until soft. Drain the lentils, mix everything together and serve. 

 

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