by Nora Gold
Diapering Issy, she had her back to him, and didn’t answer.
“You wouldn’t mind, would you?” he asked, sounding surprised.
She spun around to face him and cried, “What are you talking about? Are you out of your mind?”
He stared at her, dumbfounded. As he continued staring at her blankly, obviously not understanding, she said, “We’re not going to be here four years from now, remember? We’re going to be living in Israel.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said glumly. Then, on some pretext, he left the room.
This brief interchange shocked and frightened her. It was clear that Bobby, for those moments at least, had totally forgotten about their plan to move to Israel within five years of their wedding. How do you forget something like that? she asked herself. How do you forget your plan for the rest of your life? How do you forget a dream?
But she didn’t make a big deal of it. After her little outburst she went on diapering Issy, and she didn’t raise this incident again. Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill, she told herself. She pushed it away. She’d learned at that rally two years before, learned “on her own flesh,” as the Hebrew expression goes, what happens when you fight back. So she is no longer a fighter like she was. She tries as much as possible to avoid conflict, with Bobby and everyone else.
But now she wonders if this really was just a molehill. In several months she will have been in Toronto for four full years, and she needs to know that sooner or later she’ll return to Israel. It doesn’t have to happen next year, or the year after that. But it does have to happen. This episode on Sunday was not the first. Bobby just doesn’t seem to be onside when it comes to moving to Israel. It feels like it’s only her plan, and not his.
A terrible thought strikes her. It is so terrible that she immediately dismisses it as impossible. It can’t be. She doesn’t believe it. But now that it’s in her mind, she can’t get it out. What if Bobby has just been stringing her along all this time? What if he never truly intended to live in Israel, and just pretended he would so she’d marry him? What if he keeps postponing going — constantly upping the ante (they need another quarter of a million, and then another, and then another) — until they never end up going at all? She feels short of breath. No, it isn’t possible. Bobby wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t outright lie. He might avoid doing things he doesn’t want to but must, like visiting the dentist. But to actually promise he’ll move to Israel when he never had any intention of it? No. That’s not Bobby. Not the Bobby she knows.
Anyway, it can’t be true, because if it were, then their entire marriage would be a lie and a sham, and there would be nothing between them that was real. This can’t be.
Also, it can’t be true because it would be too ironic, and too cruel, if ultimately she got stuck permanently in galut as a result – indirect but indubitable – of her standing up for Israel at that rally: I fought for Israel so I lost Israel.
No. It’s inconceivable. In the darkness falling around her, she tells herself that everything is fine. Everything is okay. Sure, Bobby is a bit funny about Israel. But it will all work out in the end. They had a good trip to Jerusalem four months ago during Chanukah, and Bobby got along well with her friends. Sooner or later they’ll end up in Israel. Meanwhile, in the years they spend here — whether that will be five years or six — they’ll enjoy what there is to be enjoyed in Canada. And there are things to enjoy. Their life here, though temporary, is very pleasant. They have some good friends, Bobby likes his work at BRJ, and she is finding a niche for herself. Last year, prodded by Mendl, she agreed to chair fundraising for Friends-of-Peace, and discovered to her amazement that she has a knack for raising money. In six months she alone raised what everyone at Friends-of-Peace had raised in the previous twelve. Friends-of-Peace is currently seeking a part-time fundraiser and she might apply for this position, or else hunt for a “real” job — a social work job — now that she has her M.S.W.
And yet … She sighs. All this pleasantness, all this enjoyment of galut, is based on the assumption that their life here is temporary. The same way you enjoy a one-week sun holiday on the assumption that one week later you’ll be home. Making a permanent life at a sun resort would be not only deeply unsatisfying, but miserable. She tries to picture, even for a moment, staying in Canada for good, and the idea of ending up like Micky, Efraim, Lily, and the other old-timers from Friends-of-Peace makes her shudder. It repulses her to envisage turning into one of them: still here in Toronto in eighteen years — being in her fifties, and grey-haired, like they are now — and having become one of those people who are emptied of their dreams. People living pointless, disappointed lives. Yordim.
No, she thinks. I won’t let this happen to me. I won’t. We have a plan. We’re going to live in Israel. He promised.
She imagines Issy growing up in Jerusalem, walking to shul on Shabbat in those Biblical sandals they have there, and wearing shorts and a white shirt with a collar like her friends’ kids always wore. And of course he’ll be speaking Hebrew. Perfect Hebrew. Hebrew with the right accent, not like hers. He’ll be a real Israeli.
She hears a gurgling sound and looks down at Issy. He is awake now and his beatific face is smiling at her. His blue eyes are expectant and hopeful, and he is waving around his arms and legs, wanting to be picked up. She takes him in her arms. He smells sweet — that unique sweet smell of babies and baby powder. She nuzzles his neck, and when he laughs she laughs too, and hugs him.
“Come, I’ll read to you,” she says, and seats him on her lap. He is used to her reading to him. Mainly alphabet books and some with very simple stories, just a few words here and there, illustrated with fields of flowers or kind-looking animals, people, or birds. There is even a book called Pat the Bunny, where Issy pats some soft, fluffy cotton batting in the shape of a rabbit. So he snuggles in happily as she reaches for the nearest book. But all she can put her hand on is the two-dollar Haggada on top of the pile she is bringing tonight. She thinks of getting up and looking for a baby book instead, but her leg hurts, and anyway, why not read him the Haggada? In a couple of hours it will be Pesach, and on this holiday you are supposed to Tell Your Children this story of deliverance. Her left arm is around Issy, and in her right hand she holds the Haggada, showing him the lively, cartoon-like illustrations in purple and lime-green. He looks at them eagerly. The Haggada has opened by chance to the end of the Seder.
“Look,” she says, pointing to a picture of Jerusalem with its spires, domes, and arched doorways. Doorways I entered through, she thinks. Doorways I left through. The only city I have ever loved. “Jerusalem,” she says to him. “Yerushalayim.”
“Umma,” he says, and points to the picture.
“Yes,” she says, “Jerusalem.”
“Baba,” he says, and reaches out and touches the page. Touches the walls of the old city. Like baby Moses touching the hot coal.
“Yes,” she says. Now she points to the concluding words of the Seder in both Hebrew and English. She wants him to hear the Hebrew, even though she knows he won’t understand it. She wants him to hear the cadence of the language, the music of the holy tongue. So she reads him the Hebrew words. Then she sings them to him, using the traditional tune for this part of the Seder. He listens intently and, as if beating time, hits the Haggada a few times with glee. She finishes singing and scans the English text. It is a very loose translation, even an adaptation, from the Hebrew. Someone has obviously written this with children in mind, using very simple language. She reads to Issy:
“Our Seder is now almost over.
We have done the best we could.
We hope God is pleased with our offering.”
Issy wriggles slightly. She feels the warmth and aliveness of his body on her lap, and hugs him tightly. Then she continues:
“We hope God, who led us out of Egypt long ago,
Will lead us out of exile now,
And bring us home to the Promised Land.”
She pauses. She c
an’t go on. A yearning so sharp that it is pain has risen inside her. She is silent, struggling against the tears starting up. Then, when she thinks she has control of herself, she reads to her baby the final words of the Seder: “Next year in Jerusalem,” her voice breaking before the end.
Acknowledgements
It is a pleasure to thank here the people who have played a central role in the development and realization of this book. I extend my grateful thanks to:
All the courageous individuals and groups, within academe and in the community at large, who — over the past two decades — have stood up against the antisemitism prevalent on campuses worldwide. In particular, I wish to thank the students who have bravely fought anti-Israelism at their universities, sometimes at great personal cost. Their efforts have often intersected my own activism in this area, and were one of the sources of inspiration for this novel.
My esteemed academic colleagues whose thoughtful and original scholarship on “the new antisemitism” has provided the theoretical groundwork both for my own research in this field, and for this book.
The distinguished and talented authors and the extraordinary, devoted volunteers associated with Jewish Fiction .net, the online literary journal that publishes first-rate fiction from around the world. Since founding Jewish Fiction .net in 2010, I have become part of an international literary community that nourishes me with a sense of belonging and support. This is a great gift to any writer.
Dundurn Press, an excellent publishing house with which I am proud to be affiliated, and its dedicated and very capable staff. A special thank you to Sylvia McConnell for her enthusiastic support for this book from the outset.
Diane Schoemperlen for her helpful comments on an early draft of this manuscript.
My son, Joseph Weissgold, for assisting with the design of the cover of this book, and whose joie de vivre, creativity, and constantly evolving plans for bettering the world are a never-ending source of delight and pride.
Last but not least, my husband, Dr. David Weiss, for his unwavering confidence in this novel and in me, his passionate loyalty, his good humour, and suggestions throughout the writing of this book, and most of all, his love.
GLOSSARY
Here are brief definitions of all the non-English terms in this novel that are not explained in the text, as well as a few relevant English-language ones. Please keep in mind that a number of the terms below have several different meanings, and our explanations relate only to the way each term is used in this novel.
Afikoman (Hebrew) — A piece of matzo hidden at the start of the Passover Seder to be found later by the children present and exchanged for small gifts or money so the Seder can be concluded.
Aliya (make aliya or go on aliya) — Move permanently to Israel.
Avanti Popolo (Italian) — Literally: Forward, people. The nickname of a song officially titled “Bandiera Rossa” (Italian for red flag), famous from the Italian labour movement, that glorifies the symbol of the socialist, and later communist, movement.
Binding of Isaac — The Biblical story where God tests Abraham by telling him to sacrifice his son Isaac (Genesis 22).
Blood libel — The false allegation that Jews use the blood of non-Jews in the making of Passover matzos. Cases of blood libel are reported even nowadays.
Es gezunterheyt (Yiddish) — Eat in good health. Bon appétit.
Ethics of the Fathers — A tractate of the Mishnah (which is the earliest code of Jewish oral law), composed of ethical maxims of the rabbis.
Four Questions (The) — Four questions traditionally asked (sung) — at the Passover Seder by the youngest child present. These questions pertain to four elements that make the night of the Passover Seder special.
Galut (Hebrew) — Exile.
Gatkes (Yiddish) — Long underwear.
Gurnisht helfn (Yiddish) — It’s no help.
Haggada (Hebrew) — The text read during the Passover Seder recounting the story of the Exodus.
Kipa (Hebrew) — A skullcap worn by a Jew.
Kugel (Yiddish) — A noodle pudding traditionally served on Shabbat or on holidays.
Moshav (Hebrew) — Co-operative agricultural village in Israel whose inhabitants possess individual homes and holdings, in contrast to the system of communal ownership on a kibbutz.
Pesach (Hebrew) — Passover.
Purim (Hebrew) — A holiday commemorating the deliverance of the Jews of Persia about 2,500 years ago. During Jewish leap years only, an additional Purim holiday occurs, called Purim Katan (literally “little Purim”), which precedes the regular Purim by about one month. Shushan Purim and Shushan Purim Katan refer to a second day of celebration, nowadays celebrated only in Jerusalem.
Rugelach (Yiddish) — A crescent-shaped Jewish pastry originating in Eastern Europe.
Shabbat (Hebrew) — The Jewish Sabbath, beginning around sundown on Friday night and ending approximately one hour after sundown on Saturday night.
Shaheed/a (Arabic) — Holy martyrs, a term used by Palestinians to refer to suicide bombers.
Shiva (Hebrew, Yiddish) / Shiva house — The week-long mourning period in Judaism for first-degree relatives. The ritual is referred to in English as “sitting shiva.” A “shiva house” is a house where people are sitting shiva.
Shofar (Hebrew) — A ram’s horn blown primarily on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur.
Shtetl (Yiddish) — A small village in Eastern Europe where Jews lived prior to World War II.
Shul (Yiddish) — Synagogue.
Shvartzes (Yiddish) — Blacks.
Talmud (Hebrew) — A collection of discussions on the Mishnah (which is the earliest code of Jewish oral law) — by generations of scholars in Babylonia and Palestine, redacted about 500 CE.
The Protocols Short for The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, a piece of antisemitic propaganda claiming Jews are plotting world dominion. It was translated into many languages over the past century, encouraging and widely spreading antisemitism. Long repudiated as an absurd, hateful lie, it continues to be reprinted and circulated today.
Tu B’shvat (Hebrew) — A Jewish holiday also known as “The New Year of the Trees.”
Tzimmes (Yiddish) — A traditional Jewish casserole usually made with carrots, served at festive meals.
Vale atque vale (Latin) — Farewell and farewell. A play on “Ave atque Vale” (“Hail and Farewell”), a poem by Catullus.
Vesti la giubba (Italian) — Put on the costume. Put on your mask. An aria in the opera Pagliacci.
Yartzeit (Yiddish) — The annual anniversary of a death.
Yediot (Hebrew) — Short for Yediot Achronot, a popular newspaper in Israel.
Copyright © Nora Gold, 2014
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purposes of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.
All characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Project Editor: Shannon Whibbs
Editor: Cy Strom
Design: Jennifer Scott
Epub Design: Carmen Giraudy
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Gold, Nora, author
Fields of exile / by Nora Gold.
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-4597-2146-3 (pbk.).--ISBN 978-1-4597-2147-0 (pdf).--ISBN 978-1-4597-2148-7 (epub)
I. Title.
PS8563.O524F54 2013 C813’.54 C2013-905473-1 C2013-905474-X
We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and Livres Canada Books, and the Government of Ontario through the Onta
rio Book Publishing Tax Credit and the Ontario Media Development Corporation.
Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.
J. Kirk Howard, President
“Exile,” a childhood poem by Leah Goldberg, was first published by Tuvya Ruebner in Leah Goldberg: A Monograph (in Hebrew) (Tel Aviv: Sifriyat Po’alim, 1980), p. 10. “Exile” was translated into English from this monograph by Michael Gluzman, and cited by him in his chapter “Modernism and Exile: A View from the Margins” (pp. 244–245) in David Biale, Michael Golchinsky, and Susannah Heschel, Insider/Outsider: American Jews and Multiculturalism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998). “Exile” appears here with the written permission of Professor Gluzman.
The publisher is not responsible for websites or their content unless they are owned by the publisher.
The archway and flowers on the cover of this book were adapted by Joseph Weissgold from a painting, “Tranquillity,” by Mikki Senkarik (www.senkarik.com), with the artist’s permission.
Printed and bound in Canada.
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