Chapter 107, Show Time

     Israel’s Independence Day was approaching, we had a few dance performances, a few parties I was invited to run and a trip to Paris with the Inbal Dance Theatre. 

 

    I had to drop off my assistant early in Ma’ale Efraim to set up, continue to Jerusalem for the performance with Inbal and drive right back to the party. From there drive south and pick up one more person who ran a party in Tel Aviv. 

 

   All went well, this time again, we drove through the west bank with no incidents. I dropped my assistant and continued to Jerusalem. I stopped at my most favorite humus place in the Mahane Yehuda Market called “Rachmu” where the humus was always warm and smooth. Immediately, with humus still in my mouth, I rushed to the stage where the short performance took place. After dancing in front of a huge crowd, I managed my drive through the crowded streets back to Ma’ale Efraim. For some reason the people at the party weren’t as excited as they were in Purim. It felt as if they were sad or even angry. 

 

    It was 2AM when I drove to pick up the other party in Tel-Aviv. Again, I had to maneuver through the big crowd in the street. By 4:00AM I was almost at the studio, when the Motorola BC clicked, and Avraham was trying to reach me. He was stuck on the way back from Be’er Sheva. His car broke down and he needed me to drive back and get him. There was no way I could do it. I would fall a sleep driving there. Plus, I had to rest before the next performance that evening. He wasn’t happy, he threatened to fire me for good, but I didn’t give up and he had to call a tow truck. This was the last job I did for him. 

 

    “Are you going to call Christine” Asked Nehemiah when we landed in Paris.

 “I don’t think so,” I said sadly, “we didn’t end up nicely.”

 “I think you should invite her to the show, in fact, you should invite the whole company. You may tell them it was I who is inviting them.”

 “I’ll think about it. Let’s get settle first.”

 

    We had to check in to the hotel and then go right away to the theatre for lights and places. Rehearsals were going to start early the next morning and our first performance that same night.

    Sarah Levi Tanai didn’t come to this trip this time, she was getting old. 87 years old and still strongly managing our rehearsals and teaching the new cast members. She was a tough woman even at her late age. Unfortunately, she was a little forgetful and kept changing her mind once in a while about a combination or a choreography she was trying to teach. Fortunately, we had a few veteran members of our company who remembered and were her favorite members. She would accept their recommendations and corrections.

 

    The one who kept the peace and managed most of our decisions was our Artistic Director Shlomo Haziz. He was funny friendly and direct, I liked working with him. His corrections and encouragements were always at the right time and to the point.

 

    Next member who was an influence even though he hardly ever talks was Tziyon. No one knew if he was straight or gay. He was in his late thirties and was never seen with any woman or man. He would come to the rehearsals or shows, dance and leave. Yet sometimes he would get into an odd mood and yell at everyone, still, he was helpful when needed.

 

    On the other hand, we had Moti. Oy! This is the best way to describe him and the shortest. He was definitely not a “dancer” his second position was smaller than mine. He did learn the steps quickly and looked good when he stood on the stage, but he was the most annoying gay person I have ever met. He gave gay people the bad name. He was constantly complaining about one thing or another, mostly minute petty things. But what I hated the most was his aggressiveness, his attempt to grab my ass every time I walked close to him. Or trying to convince me that I am also gay.

 

    Nati Okev who was my early childhood neighbor, I attended his sister’s wedding, he was friendly and a bubbly gay. A few other guys like Nehemiah Yoav and I were fairly new at the company.

 

    The women of our company were the real stars, except for Odelia who was just as new as I was, they were all veterans in Inbal for many years, they were all married and some even had kids. That didn’t interfere with their dance and performance. Ilana who did the solo of the water carrier, and Sarah who played the drum and sang so well. Or the newly wed Tamar who was married to our lighting designer, she played the roll of Ruth. Each and every one of them were a star in her own right. 

 

    We had a wonderful tour. Two weeks in northern France.

 

    “Call Her!” Nehemiah insisted “Tell her that I invite her personally.”

I did, “What do you want?” She recognized my voice right away. 

 “I am in Paris and would like to invite you to our show.” I said carefully, I am here with Nehemiah, we are in a new professional dance company. I know it is far drive, but it will be worth it for you.”

 “Forget it!” I shook my head to Nehemiah.

 “Tell her it me!”

 “I understand” I said on the phone “It is Nehemiah who is inviting you too.”

 “Tell him no thanks!” she hung up. 

 

    I called Veronique, also from the Le Havre Troup.

 “No Tibi, I am sorry, none of us will come after what happened between you and Christine.”

Wow, what kind of a monster did she make me? I thought, after taking her all over Israel and hosting her for a month. She knew from the beginning it wasn’t going to be a love story. I even asked her a few times if it was OK. I guess it wasn’t. 

 

    Avi had a request from me before I left for France. Cheese, French soft rotten fancy cheese. He wanted me to buy cheese for him. As much as I didn’t like cheese, for him it was better then dessert. So, I went to the first cheese store – I couldn’t believe they had stores just for cheese – and walked in. The smell hit me even before I entered. Something like bad dirty socks, rotting shoes. I took a deep breath and walked in, holding my breath I ordered the cheese he asked for and ran out not even waiting for the change.

 

    The next day we flew back to Israel, and I chanced to sit next to two Arab young men. I kept quiet the first half of the flight and listen to them talk in Arabic to each other. When I needed to use the bathroom, I got up and asked their forgive ness in Arabic and saw the surprise in their eyes.

 

    “So, you speak Arabic,” said the one next to the isle.

 “I do, a little.” I said and took my seat.

 “Where are you from?”

 “Netanya, and you?”

 “Palestine!” said the one sitting next to me.

 “Yes, yes, where?” this was the first time someone actually told me they live in “Palestine” instead of the name of the town they are from.

 “Palestine,” said the one next to the isle. “Don’t you know where that is?”

 “Yes, I know about that made-up place, where in Palestine?”

 “What made up place? The one next to me got angry, it looked like they felt strong sitting two Arabs next one Israeli. “Israel is the made-up place.” I ignored him when he suddenly realized he was sitting on a plain with a lot more Israelis than Arabs.

 

     That was the first time I felt the animosity from the Arabs so close. I remembered the little Arab kids throwing rocks at the military vehicles in the Gaza strip, but I never really had a conflict so close. I was wondering if it was a good idea to drive all those times I drove through the west bank.

 

    Back at the Inbal studio in Jaffa we started to work on the new Moroccan dance. I finally finished fixing the motorcycle for the second time and drove it from Netanya, without the side car.

 

    “You know,” said the modern dance teacher who was giving us our morning warm up, “you are endangering your dancing career on that motorcycle.” Even Nehemiah mentioned something about it when we walked to the grocery store for lunch. We each had half bread loaf with smoked turkey breast (in Israel it was called pastrama) and tomatoes. 

 

    “You should be careful with that. It’s an old machine and not so reliable.” He was right, I had hard time getting parts for it and drove it not fully repaired. The carburetor was leaking, and I had a small hole in the muffler. 

 

   Just before driving home, I tried kick starting it. The Gasoline drop hit the hole in the muffler and caught fire. I ran back to the building and came out with a bucket full of water. I could see the handles starting to melt as I poured the water over and quenched the fire. I kick started it again and, believe it or not, drove it back home. But I knew I had to start the rebuild again.  

 

    The dance companies in Tel-Aviv often got together for rehearsal and even performed together. The “Bat-Sheva”, or the “Bat-Dor”. But my favorite one to work with was the “Kol-Udmama”- sound and silence. This dance company was composed of deaf dancers and hearing dancers. They reminded me the parties I used to DJ for Deaf people. 

 

    Even as a small child I had a special connection to deaf and mute people. Starting when I was four years old and when we moved to Borochov where one of the kids from Libya who was Deaf and mute became a good friend of mine and helped me build the small puppet theatre. Now I loved that expression of the deaf dancers. As if it was easier for them to dance than us people with the perfect hearing. Deaf people use their body in their nonverbal communication and when they danced, I could understand every note of the music.

 

    We also had visitors from the USA, the Ballet company of Harlem came to visit and practice with us for a short while and I even got an invitation to join them if I ever came to the US.

 

    Last but not least, was Anna Sokolow, a dance teacher who was almost as old as our Sarah came to give us some Modern dance lesson. I can still feel her finger going up my sternum pointing me to keep my back straight. She insisted that we should all have some ballet training. Modern dance was fine, but ballet was the base of all dances. A discussion has started amongst us of who should be a good teacher. The first person that came to my mind was of course, Sarah Yohai. Some of the dancers recognized her name and agreed to give her a chance. 

 

   “You did what?” She asked when I told her, “you gave my name to whom?”

 “The Inbal Dance Theatre would be honored to give it a try.” I said with a smile. “They need a ballet teacher, and who else is better than the teacher who made me a dancer?”

 “That is too much!”

 “Come on Sarah, you are the best teacher I know, you have changed my life. You didn’t even ask me for payment. I know it isn’t easy to be a divorced woman in this country. It isn’t easy to make a living only from your school. So at least let me open this opportunity for you.

She agreed and the next morning we took the bus together to Tel-Aviv.

 

    Sarah became the Ballet teacher for the company for many years after. She even hooked up with Tziyon, we finally discovered he wasn’t gay, he was waiting for Sarah. Unfortunately, Sarah passed away 15 years later from the hereditary brain cancer her mom and grandmother died from. I still remember her prediction when she was teaching me that one day, she will have the same fate. I wasn’t in Israel when she passed but I still have clips of newspapers commemorating a party in her honor where dancers, musicians and artists from all over Israel came to pay their respect with song and dance just weeks before she left us.

 

  

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Ethiopian sweet potato and lentils

 

  You might find this dish served on an Ethiopian flat bread, Injera. But it is just as good served on a plate as a side dish or main dish if you make enough.

Ingredients:
1⁄2 Diced Onion
3 Minced Garlic Cloves
1 Minced tsp Fresh Ginger
1⁄2 Diced Small Sweet Potatoes or 1⁄2 Small Yam
1⁄4 Diced Red Sweet Bell Pepper
1 tsp Olive Oil
2 TBSP Lentils (split red)
1 -2 tsp Tomato Paste
1 Cup Water
3⁄4 tsp Paprika
1⁄2 tsp Ground Coriander
1⁄4 tsp Ground Allspice
1⁄4 tsp Ground Cinnamon
1⁄4 tsp Ground Fenugreek
1⁄4 tsp Ground Ginger
Salt or Soy Sauce to taste
Pinch Black Pepper

Preparation: 
 Sauté the onion, garlic, ginger, and yam in olive oil at medium heat until the onions are almost translucent. Add the red bell pepper and sauté for an additional minute. Add the lentils, tomato paste and water. Bring it to a boil. Add the paprika, coriander, allspice, fenugreek, and ginger. Lower heat slightly and allow the stew to simmer for 20 minutes or until the lentils are tender and all the water absorbed. Add salt, soy sauce and black pepper as needed, and serve.

 

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