No Time for Tears

by Cynthia Freeman

  “I believe you, Ari. Especially since it’s the same for me …”

  There was nothing awkward, not even hesitant, as he turned to embrace her and their lips met. For them it was more than a kiss, it was a lifetime pledge. As enduring for them as this land they’d both dedicated their lives to…

  CHAPTER NINE

  BY 1914 IT WAS a far different Palestine than the one Chavala and Dovid had first come to. The Jews now numbered some eighty-five thousand. The old Yishuv who had been in the country before the Zionist immigration was still concentrated in the four holy cities and still lived largely on contributions from abroad. They were alien to the new life that was evolving in Palestine and looked on it with a combination of apathy and even hostility.

  Their opposition was partly based on religious grounds, but even more on the fear that the funds from abroad would be increasingly for building up modern settlements, thus causing their own sources of income to dry up. The influence of the new worker settlements hardly touched Jerusalem and Hebron. The workers mostly found employment in the villages of lower Galilee. Tiberius was growing into an economic center, and the Jewish population of Haifa and Jaffa owed its development to economic forces rather than to historical or religious associations. The opening up of new shipping, the laying of railroad lines between Jaffa and Jerusalem and Haifa quickened the economic pulse. Jaffa was the principal port of Palestine as well as the center of Judean settlements. Jaffa also became the cultural center of the Yishuv. The first Hebrew schools were opened in Jaffa, the Zionist institutions and workers’ federations had their offices there, topped off by the building of the first Jewish city—Tel Aviv. The former settlements were now replaced with kibbutzim that were gradually becoming the backbone of the Yishuv.

  At the outbreak of the First World War the Yishuv was numerically stronger and better organized than at the beginning of the Zionist settlements. It had advanced enormously since the unity of the working-class parties. Federations of agricultural workers were formed in Judea and Galilee, and were administered by an elected body, the Merkaz Chaklai. But for all that had been accomplished, much still depended on the Jews in the Diaspora.

  Turkey didn’t enter the war immediately, but her pro-German leanings were all too apparent. It was to be only a matter of time … A state of emergency was proclaimed throughout the Ottoman Empire and general mobilization began to protect Turkish “neutrality.” Turkish shipping in the Black Sea and the Aegean was stopped. The Bosphorus and Dardanelles were closed to foreign vessels. Egypt declared war against Germany and went under British protection, whose ships no longer could use Palestinian ports.

  In September foreigners came under the jurisdiction of the Turkish courts. They also lost postal facilities, so their correspondence was likely to be tampered with. And so the immigrant Jews in Palestine were cut off from the countries they’d emigrated from.

  While the old Yishuv, divided as it had been before into factions and communities, stood by helplessly the new Yishuv was aroused. Its center was in Tel Aviv. Only a few days after the war began an emergency committee was set up.

  In spite of all the efforts made in Palestine to cope with hardship, the Jews would have gone under if it hadn’t been for help from America. The American warship North Carolina put into Jaffa with $50,000. Later on, other American ships entered Palestinian waters. This evidence of America’s interest in the fate of the Yishuv not only showed the Jews that they had a friend, it also raised their standing in the eyes of the non-Jewish population and the local Turkish authorities. People with rich friends in America were people who might be worth a little extortion.

  On orders of the American donors a central committee was set up to supervise the distribution of the relief funds. Palestine was divided into regions—Jerusalem, Haifa, Galilee, Samaria and Judea. The American Zionist Organization decided what the funds were to be used for. All this American aid was especially timely when on October 31, 1914, Turkey entered the war and the call went out to the Islamic world to join in a holy war against the Allies. Unprecedented hardships now began for the Yishuv. Its very existence was now at stake. Turkey at first ordered all enemy nationals transferred from Palestine to the interior of the Ottoman Empire. Thanks to the American and German ambassadors, though, Jews were at least allowed to opt for Turkish nationality and stay in Palestine. Those who didn’t had to leave the country. The Jews weren’t happy with the alternatives, but the salvation of the Yishuv depended on it. As for military service, Christians could buy exemption, but the Jews had to serve, and many of them were drafted into labor battalions, where they died of disease or starvation.

  Jamal Pasha, commander of the Fourth Army Corps, was appointed supreme governor of Syria and Arabia, and he had a fitting lieutenant in the person of the Baha al-Din, who had gained practical experience in the art of destroying whole groups of minorities in Armenia. The Zionists and Jewish national institutions were considered by Jamal Pasha and his minions as Turkey’s real enemy. The first steps taken against them in October 1914 were such things as prohibiting the use of Hebrew in Tel Aviv; all inscriptions had to be in Turkish and Arabic, beneath which Hebrew might appear only in small lettering. Tel Aviv was surrounded by troops. Searches were conducted in the homes of the leading Zionists, many of their papers were confiscated, presumably to expose the separatist aims of Zionism. A number of Zionists were arrested and sentenced to deportation, the use and possession of JNF stamps were punishable by death. Jews were not allowed to protect Jewish suburbs and the Judean settlements. The Hebrew language and the Hebrew script in correspondence were prohibited. The Zionist flag and Jewish administrative institutions were declared illegal. Transfers of land to Jews were forbidden, and the authorities tried to gain possession of the title deeds to land already in Jewish hands.

  At noon on December 17, 1914, Baha al-Din issued an order that all foreign nationals had to leave, that a ship was due to lay anchor at Jaffa at four o’clock the same afternoon. Soldiers and police seized Jews—men and women, old people and children—in the streets and locked them up. In the evening they were hustled to the quayside and put into boats, which were to take them out to the ship. Husbands were separated from wives, parents from children. Trials began, indicting prominent Zionists, among them Yitzchak Ben-Zvi and David Ben-Gurion, both by now high in the labor movement. Ben-Zvi’s punishment was hard labor for an article describing the brutality used during the deportations. Ben-Gurion was accused of being subversive … “It is your aim to establish a Jewish state in Palestine. I decree that you will leave the country… meanwhile you will be imprisoned.”

  At first Galilee suffered less than Judea; but not for long. Requisitioning was intensified. Draft animals, farm implements and stores of grain were seized for the army. The settlements were forced to supply men, horses and carts for work on military installations at Beersheba, and many died from diseases contracted as a result of back-breaking work under miserable conditions….

  Dovid’s situation was somewhat special. Working at Athlit had its advantages. In the years that he’d worked with Aaronson their relationship grew very strong, Dovid had shown great promise and his efforts had not gone unrewarded. Since Aaron had worked closely with the Turkish government on farm problems and had become a scientist of such renown, the pasha almost forgot—never forgave—that he was a Jew. He was able to intercede with the pasha on Dovid’s behalf, reminding the pasha that the men at Athlit were more valuable to the government with their knowledge of farming than in clearing the roads. The pasha went along, not out of charity but because Turkey badly needed food to feed an army.

  Moishe’s position was more complicated. In spite of his hatred for the Turkish government he had no choice but to join up or be deported, and so he kissed his sister Chavala good-bye and said he would go back to Jaffa to wait for his orders. When he arrived in Jaffa, Moishe suddenly found himself caught up in the storm of arrests. Jews were being pushed and hurried along the streets, and he followed the flo
od of terrified and bewildered Jews, none of whom was more bewildered than he.

  Moishe was on the road between Haifa and Jaffa as Baha al-Din was issuing his expulsion orders. He found old men, gray-bearded, with long coats and broad-brimmed hats, carrying all they possessed in their arms. The crowd was growing in size, as well as the outcries … “What have we done?” … “Why are you doing this to us?” … “Where are they sending us, we’ll die in the desert” … When the group of displaced Jews was thrown into the detention hall, the rooms were already bulging with people. Families were being separated … “Where are you, Isaac?” … “My baby, God, where is my baby?” …

  Moishe could no longer hold in his rage. “I demand to see your commander.”

  The answer was the butt of a rifle at his head.

  Moishe staggered, his hand to his head, feeling the blood. Trying to shake his head clear, he called out again, “I came to join the army—”

  The soldier laughed. “In Russia, you join.”

  People were thrown into a room and demands were made that they turn over their money. After all their possessions were stripped from them, they were herded to the docks and amidst all the madness, walked up a gangplank onto an unfit ship that was set adrift to find its way back to Russia.

  As he lay on deck, Moishe made up his mind that he would not go back, he’d rather die … Now he became aware of the chalutz next to him. They looked at each other, and in that moment with no need to speak, each seemed to read the thought of the other.

  “Can you swim?” whispered the stranger.

  “No. But if you have a plan, I’ll learn quick.”

  “I have a compass, I know where we might be able to jump ship, with a lot of luck we might make it to Cairo … I understand Trumpeldor is trying to convince the British that Jews can fight.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the British, they’re no better than the Turks, but back to Russia I’m not going.”

  “Good. At midnight we jump … incidentally, my name is Nathan Zalman.”

  The two shook hands. “If we don’t make it, our names won’t matter, but just in case, I’m Moishe Rabinsky.”

  Moishe, who had never swum, jumped and was surprised to find that he’d somehow come up to the surface of the water. For a while he paddled. His pace was slower than Nathan’s, but his determination urged him on until he was almost side-by-side with his new found comrade …

  When at last they hit the beach, the two lay back in complete exhaustion and disbelief. If they could accomplish this, they’d live to see the Messiah.

  Chavala was frantic when Moishe did not come back that night. Dovid’s attempts to quiet her fears did no good. She sat up until dawn, convinced something dreadful had happened.

  When Dovid awoke in the morning he found Chavala standing at the window. He put his arms around her and said, “We have to assume the best, not the worst, darling. Moishe is strong, he’s—”

  “I’m not a child, Dovid. You know as well as I that something must have happened. He hasn’t taken his things, he was coming back after he joined up. What are we going to do?”

  “Aaronson has connections. If anyone can find out he can….”

  Chavala waited, her anxiety growing. Finally on the third day, when Dovid came home, she was sure the worst had been confirmed. She saw it in the look on Dovid’s face. Moishe was dead.

  Taking her into his arms, Dovid said, “Moishe’s in Alexandria with Trumpeldor. Aaronson received this message … here, see for yourself, he’s in Alexandria…”

  Tears streaming down her cheeks, she looked at Dovid. “He’s safe … thank God, he’s safe.”

  Yes, Dovid thought, but for how long?

  Chavala’s world, that only a short time before had seemed so safe and serene, now was unraveling. Sheine had been called up to work at the front near the Syrian border in a hospital unit. Moishe was alive, but for how long … ? Maybe he wasn’t considered a soldier, but the mule corps faced death as much as any combat unit. And now Dvora had come back to Zichron to announce she was going to marry Ari.

  Thinking back on that all too short respite she’d known living in Zichron, she now saw how presumptuous it was to think one was in control of her life, let alone the lives of loved ones. So Dvora was getting married … looking at her sister, Chavala remembered how she’d planned that when the day came for her sisters to marry, she would sew their wedding gowns and she and Dovid would walk each in their turn to the chuppah … now that dream was shattered, no amount of argument could convince Dvora. “Wait until the war is over, please, Dvora. I pray Ari will come back … but darling, if the worst should happen …”

  “Then I’ll have his child.”

  Of course … Dvora was a woman, and Chavala hadn’t even noticed. “Are you carrying his child … ?”

  “Yes, and I’m proud of it. I love him, Chavala, just as you do Dovid … and whatever happens, I’ll have to accept it.”

  Chavala nodded. “When will you be married?”

  “Immediately.”

  After Dvora left, Chavala sat in the lengthening shadows and began to come out of herself, to see in fact that she suffered from a very serious disease—self-pity. Enough. Other people had their troubles too, many of them far worse than hers, and she thought of Sarah Aaronson …

  Only God knew how Sarah must have suffered when she gave up the man she so deeply loved to her sister Rivka. (The connection with herself and Dovid and Sheine did not … not surprisingly … occur to her.) Sarah was a woman of great beauty and strength of character, filled with the joy of living and had always been ready for adventure. But Rivka was different, perhaps the opposite … she was always the adored little sister, sweet, piquant and vulnerable. Living as she did on the periphery of such forceful people as Sarah, Alex and Aaron, she developed a sense of inferiority, which Sarah not only understood but blamed herself for … Rivka seemed to have been all but overlooked. She may have been much adored, but still she could not compete with them. Although she had received numerous proposals, she had rejected them out of her mistaken sense of unworthiness. Sarah decided that once again she was the one standing in Rivka’s way. Her sister’s love for Absalom was so intense, so complete that there was no question that she would ever marry anybody else. Sarah had seen them together, seen the way Rivka not only looked at Absalom, but how she looked up at him. And she wasn’t wrong. The man was unique, marvelous. After all, she had fallen in love with him, hadn’t she? Well, no more thinking about that… what she had to decide was whether she was strong enough to give up this man for her sister’s happiness, her life, really …a life that had been too often limited and frustrated, Sarah felt, because of her own actions, as well as those of others in her family. She thought, and shook her head at the irony of the coincidence, about Aaron and how he was now alone because of a woman he couldn’t have, a woman married to one of his closest friends. Aaron had managed to deny himself for somebody else … could she do as much for her own sister? Somehow she had to, but how could she stand it? For a while she considered going off someplace so that Rivka would be free to enjoy her love for Absalom, a love she’d been hiding too long. But that would be too cowardly, and Sarah was no coward. What then?

  The best she could come up with was a campaign … she shuddered when she considered it …to make Absalom grow tired of her. She began when he asked her to marry him, with a rather languid, “Let’s not be impetuous.” Absalom wasn’t a man easily put off, not by Turks or shortsighted Jews who couldn’t see their future was to have their own land … or by the woman that he had made up his mind to spend his life with. What the hell did she mean? Why the sudden change? Being less than self-assured when it came to his attraction to women, he began to think she’d found or preferred someone else. He asked her.

  Sarah took the opening to concoct a story that she hoped was more convincing than, God knew, she felt… “Absalom, please try and forgive me. I did love you, but more and more lately I’ve come to see that we a
re just too much alike, that marriage would only intensify that, and eventually we’d both be miserable—”

  He was stunned, even though she seemed to be saying what he was most afraid of. “So you’ve found someone else?”

  “Yes, but please, try to remember the good things we’ve shared. I know I always will.”

  Wonderful, he thought. Live on memories. To hell with that. Hurt, angry, he left, and his visits to the Aaronson home ended.

  Naturally, Sarah’s family was bewildered. Sarah tried to explain it to her father by saying love wasn’t enough, that she wanted a home and children and not a poet, that Absalom would never settle down, he was a free spirit, a fine man but eventually his way of life would make life impossible between them, and so forth. She was almost getting to believe it herself, as she became increasingly practiced in her lie.

  Ephraim was miserable. Aaron had been forced into a life of loneliness, and now Sarah…

  “You’re sure, Sarah, that you won’t regret this?”

  She could only shake her head, not trusting herself to speak anymore.

  Well, there could be no average man for Sarah, and where would Ephraim find another such man? One to take Absalom’s place?

  He didn’t really find another Absalom, but he did find a man, a young man of great wealth, a merchant from Constantinople. Sarah amazed him by agreeing to marriage even though she hadn’t even seen the man.

  Sarah was quickly married and left immediately after for her new home in Constantinople. That summer, of course, was like an unending nightmare. What Sarah had said to Absalom about being strong and independent was irrelevant only with Absalom. For this man it was like a sentence … she’d grown up an independent-minded woman in the free atmosphere of Zichron. Here she was subjected to the world of an Oriental-style ménage, where a husband’s regard for his wife was at his convenience and according to his needs.

  Actually he was very fond of Sarah, but he was raised in the conventional, rigid, old-fashioned German attitudes his family had brought with them from Berlin. Sarah was never allowed, as his wife, to leave their home alone. She was sheltered, sequestered. Well, it was a kind of atonement, she told herself, for all that she’d denied Rivka in the past At least the ledger was in balance. She hoped Rivka and Absalom—oh, stop it, she told herself. She wasn’t that noble. She’d done what she thought she had to do. But she was no saint. She was a woman, and she felt like any other woman who had lost her man…