The Last Rain

by Edeet Ravel

  This is my home.

  RIVKA

  All right, we’ll stay. We’ll move to the city—

  MICHAEL

  But I like it here.

  RIVKA

  What do you like about it? You drive the truck to get

  away.

  MICHAEL

  I’ve been thinking … I want to start a high school here

  in Eldar, for our children and children from the poor-

  est neighbourhoods in the country. I’ve seen them on

  my trips, living in hovels, barely enough to eat. We can

  bring them here and teach them, give them a chance.

  RIVKA

  Then we’ll stay here and you’ll leave Marina.

  MICHAEL

  Why?

  RIVKA

  Michael, don’t you love me?

  Dori

  I’m alone in the Children’s House. Suddenly I notice Skye’s necklace. The one with the gold heart. It’s in a little box on her bed. A pretty blue box.

  I take the bracelet outside and dig a hole in the ground and bury it.

  It’s not a very nice thing to do. Skye is going to miss that bracelet.

  I can tell her where I buried it if she asks. I didn’t throw it out.

  I have some things that are only mine—like the little doll furniture on the tray. But I keep them in the Room. I don’t bring them to the Children’s House where everyone can see them and be jealous.

  Our First Year

  30 August 1949. We began the grape harvest yesterday. Some of the fruit is inferior, but there are many bunches that hang like clusters of monstrous jewels, succulent grapes the size of small plums, beautifully formed, with a powdery bloom that rubs off leaving an enamelled surface, shiny and sometimes pitch black.

  Dori

  Skye’s been asking about her bracelet. I want to tell her where it is but the problem is that I forgot where I buried it.

  Diary of a Young Man

  18 March 1922. Sometimes you’re lying in bed, thinking about the commune, and suddenly you hear the sound of weeping. You get up and step outside to help your comrade in distress. But next to the tent where the sound is coming from several young women have gathered and they gesture to you, “Don’t come near!” They’re watching and helping. There are already quite a few experts in hysteria.

  Dori

  We’re at Galron and we’re having a problem. Carmella doesn’t know we’re here and there’s a dog barking in front of the door. He looks dangerous.

  We’re afraid to go into the yard. Shoshana’s afraid too. We keep waiting for Carmella but she doesn’t come.

  Finally Skye decides to be brave. She goes into the yard and walks sideways very very slowly. She keeps her back to the fence and then to the wall.

  But the dog jumps on her and bites her. She screams and Carmella comes out. Skye is screaming her head off. Carmella puts her on a chair and gives her a candy and one of the children gives her a toffee and another child gives her a ribbon.

  I want to give her something too. I have a boat in my pocket that I found yesterday on our Hike. It’s a teeny-tiny red boat and I decided I would keep it until I was old and bent with a shawl so I’d have something from when I was a little girl.

  But Skye is crying and all I have is the boat so I give it to her. She takes it but she goes on crying.

  Finally the nurse comes running in. She gives Skye a shot in her arm. Poor Skye! She was brave and she got bit and had to get a shot. In stories brave people end up with the prize but not in real life apparently.

  Between the Motion and the Act

  They sat at the table, singing apathetically in order to postpone the main event of the evening: a lottery to determine which two members would join the army on a dangerous mission the following morning. The army had asked for two men and the members had decided on a lottery. The tension grew as each of the men took a small piece of paper out of a hat. Two were marked.

  Nat thought of the scene in Charlie Chaplin’s The Great Dictator, in which the Resistance puts coins in a pudding to select someone to go on a suicide mission to assassinate the dictator, and each person tries to hide the coin and secretly pass it on. As he opened his paper he contemplated what might be on it. They had arrived here only a few months ago, knowing that war was imminent. Most of them had fought in World War Two in the Canadian and U.S. armies, and were dismayed by the thought that they’d have to go through it all again. But duty and love of the country were the order of the day—and what were they if not the innocent sons of the era?

  Nat’s piece of paper was spread out on the table now but he did not have the courage to look at it. He was not afraid of dying, of suffering, of being killed, but he dreaded the thought of leaving Avra—blonde, beautiful, flowering, and as mysterious as a Japanese opera; to be torn apart from her now—perhaps lose her forever—that was what he was afraid of. He looked at the other men in the room, and concluded that his own paper was not marked, for Rubin rose with feigned abhorrence and smiled, and his wife tried to be brave and smile too. Everyone felt somewhat relieved, for Rubin was considered indefatigable, an ex-Air Force Pilot who had been awarded a Silver Star. He would surely return, there was no doubt about it.

  The second person whose paper was marked was Pinny. He went pale, and his blue eyes began to water. His wife moaned by his side, “Pinny, no!”

  They felt sorry for Pinny and in spite of their previous resolution, they accepted Samuel’s offer to go in Pinny’s place. Samuel was not really one of them. He was a Brazilian who had come on his own. He was drawn into the enthusiastic devotion of the group; nevertheless, when he was killed on a lone hill in the Negev, he was barely mourned. When Pinny heard about it, all he said was, “What luck! It could have been me.”

  Dori

  Now that it’s colder we’re getting shirts with long sleeves. I really like this one red shirt with a high neck. It’s very soft. I’m not supposed to get a shirt just because I like it because what if the other children like it just as much?

  But Shoshana gave it to me last time and again this time. It’s not what I expect from Shoshana but what do you know—she was nice for a change.

  I like the shirt but I don’t like anything touching my throat. Even at night I sleep with my hand on my throat so the blanket won’t touch it.

  I keep the neck of the shirt in my mouth so it won’t touch my throat. Just like Bazooka Joe. I wonder if he’s like me. Maybe he can’t have anything touching his throat either.

  Baby Diary

  January 1, 1956

  Had a smallpox shot. I handed over the 10:00 nursing to the Minder. Gets food and a cup (no bottle). Niv, Simon and Dori have moved to new quarters next to the Baby House.

  Weaning was very hard for me. (Emotionally.)

  She is fine—a happy, sweet, pretty and good girl.

  Dori

  Mummy is baking a cake in the Room. I’m helping her whip the whites.

  When Carmella baked a cake she whipped the whites so hard that when she turned the bowl upside-down they didn’t fall out. Even with gravity.

  So when the whites are ready I turn the bowl upside-down to show Mummy. I say look it’s standing! but suddenly the whole thing slides down to the floor in one big piece.

  Mummy is very upset but not angry. She finds a way to save most of the egg whites and she puts them back in the bowl. Daddy comes in and she tells him what happened. When she gets to the part where I said it’s standing Daddy bursts out laughing and Mummy laughs too and they repeat it’s standing over and over and they laugh so hard that tears come out of Mummy’s eyes.

  It’s nice when you make your parents laugh. A bad thing turned into a good thing.

  Kibbutz Cake

  Dori

  It’s Tu B’shvat Festival of Trees today. I love Tu B’shvat. We wear white shirts and everyone plants a tree. An adult helps me dig a hole and I put the sapling in the earth and I pat the earth back in. Pat pat pat.

 
; Everyone is happy. There are hundreds of yellow and white wildflowers around us. The beautiful wildflowers of our land. I love our land.

  Dori

  I don’t know where we are. All I know is that we’re in Meron and the room is very crowded. We’re supposed to get sandwiches but I don’t know where. I can’t see anyone from my Group or anyone else from Eldar.

  I find a girl to talk to. An old girl—almost ten. She’s from Meron. She says I have a rabbit called Fifi. I tell her about the dog that bit Skye.

  Finally Shoshana comes to get me and we all leave Meron in a bus. It’s dark outside. Shoshana says we have to go straight to the Children’s House and to bed.

  I say I have to tell Daddy or Mummy we’re back. But Shoshana says it’s too late.

  I feel sick. I can’t go to sleep without a goodnight kiss. So when Shoshana isn’t looking I run away as fast as I can to the Room. There’s no one there so I run to the Kitchen. But Daddy isn’t there either and no one knows where he is. Someone says Mummy might be in Coco’s Room.

  So I start running back to the Rooms but Shoshana comes running down the path and catches me. She grabs my waist and carries me screaming back to the Children’s House.

  I try to stop crying but I can’t. My crying is like hic-cups. No matter what I do I can’t make it stop. Shoshana laughs listen to her hiccup. She wants everyone to laugh with her.

  I know Daddy or Mummy would come if they knew I was back. But they don’t know and there’s no one to tell them.

  This is the saddest anyone can be. It isn’t possible to be sadder than this.

  Transcript of Meeting February 1962

  Topic:

  Improvisational Cuisine

  Chair:

  Isaac Milman

  Isaac:

  We’re a small group today because several of our com-

  rades are working extra hours setting up the new library,

  and some are away at the Federation seminar. Edna is

  concerned about: “Rumours that some of our meat last

  week came from a wild boar caught by our comrades. I

  commend the Kitchen on its valiant efforts to keep us

  fed and its excellent culinary skills, but I don’t think it’s

  safe to eat wild animals, especially for our children.”

  Naftali:

  We really took every precaution, boiling the meat for

  hours. After all, humans have been hunting and cook-

  ing meat for millions of years.

  Tamir:

  What about the fuel required to boil the meat for hours?

  Does it really make economic sense in the end?

  Naftali:

  If you want to live on borscht it’s fine with me. If you

  want omelettes, on the other hand, we may have to crack

  a few eggs.

  Edna:

  I know our policy is children first—but in this case, I sug-

  gest that with anything experimental, we stick to adults.

  Tamir:

  And if the adults don’t die, we can give it to the kids.

  Martin:

  How long should we wait to see if the adult dies?

  Naftali:

  We’ll go by weight. Skinny people, three days. Fat people,

  a week.

  Martin:

  While we’re on the subject, I haven’t seen soup bits on

  the table in three weeks.

  Edna:

  They’re going to the Children’s Houses. The kids love

  them.

  Naftali:

  We could plan a midnight raid on Osem headquarters.

  Anyone know where they’re located?

  Martin:

  The army won’t release that information. Torture has

  been attempted, without results.

  Naftali:

  We’ll have to infiltrate.

  Isaac:

  Much as I’m enjoying the jocularity of our comrades,

  I suggest we address Edna’s concern. Let’s vote on

  whether to restrict meat from improvised sources to

  adults. It’s not like we’re desperate—our food situation

  has improved over the past few years.

  Martin:

  That’s true. We’ve moved from shoe leather to sardines.

  Isaac:

  Who’s in favour of restricting meat for the children to

  certified sources?

  Vote:

  For: 11 Abstentions: 1

  Dori

  Today I’m the luckiest girl on Eldar. Daddy did something he’s not really supposed to do. We were talking about the sandwiches I didn’t get in Meron and Daddy took me to the Kitchen and poured a huge amount of soup bits into a pot and he gave me the pot. The whole pot! I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  I wander off in the direction of the barns. I don’t want to meet anyone. We almost never get soup bits and when we do we’re only allowed one spoon each.

  And now I have a whole pot to myself. A whole pot!

  I wander to the barns eating my soup bits. I don’t meet anyone. I walk and eat. This is a happy day. Better even than a birthday.

  Our First Year

  9 September 1949. The First Rain has arrived. Clouds piled up like a dark flotilla and cruised over the Atzmon mountain range, and then very unexpectedly a few drops began to fall on the grape leaves and drop from the fruit like tears.

  In the course of the day there were sudden drenching outbursts and the wind blasted away. There was mud and the smell of wetness.

  Tomorrow we expect to put 30 people in the field to finish off the grape harvest. Meanwhile the figs grow larger and juicier.

  The main topic of discussion these days is “elections.” The administrative and committee positions in the kibbutz are reshuffled at this time of the year, and the process is complicated and yields heated controversy. Our big problem is to find a general manager and a secretary. Nobody wants the honours.

  Dori

  There was a movie for everyone today. It was about a boy and his bull. I didn’t understand most of it but at the end the bull got shot with arrows and the boy couldn’t get there on time. It was very sad. The arrows hit the bull and stayed in his skin and he was bleeding but the man kept shooting more and more arrows in him. The bull tried to escape but he couldn’t. I began crying so hard that someone had to take me out of the Dining Hall.

  In some places shooting arrows into bulls is a sport and everyone cheers. Some people care about bulls and some people don’t.53

  Our First Year

  11 September. This seems to be the season of gremlin wounds, those tiny, unserious lesions and abrasions that pop out on the body in the course of the day’s work: a blood blister here, a scraped area here, a scratch, an opening, a puncture there.

  A collection of these little beauty spots can upset one’s disposition quite seriously.

  You can’t move this finger, must remember not to bend that elbow in such an angle, the foot can’t be exposed in this position, don’t sit on that particular spot on the left buttock, can’t allow the left lower palm to touch anything, etc.

  They appear mysteriously, these clotted, discoloured, swollen, scaly, or rashlike decorations; they metamorphose continually, persisting against all kind of balms and smears and bandages.

  It may be the climate, the season, the dust, or a kind of juvenile delinquency in the department of providential retribution.

  Dori

  My brother David is reading about a trickster called Till Eulenspiegel. He plays all sorts of tricks on people. The tricks are funny. In one story he goes to sleep in a beehive and when two thieves steal the beehive he pulls their hair and they begin to fight because each thief thinks the other thief is pulling his hair.

  Till Eulenspiegel does things for a reason. The reason is that people are bad.

  David sometimes does things for no reason. One time in Canada David was looking after me and he saw that when
I made a poo I checked the toilet paper to see when it was clean. He began to laugh and make fun of me. I didn’t know it was a stupid thing to do.

  Then Daddy called on the phone. And David said do you know what Dori does—when she wipes herself she looks at the paper and he began to laugh. I began to yell no no and I ran to the phone and grabbed it from David and said it isn’t true it isn’t true but I knew it was too late and that Daddy would know it was true.

  Why did David have to tell him? He just did it to be mean. Just like that.

  Complicated Procedures

  Dori

  Shoshana takes us on a short Hike to see bees. Usually Shoshana’s Hikes are boring but the bees are interesting. Coco looks after the hives. She wears a special hat with a net and special clothes that bees can’t sting through.