Read Online Before We Say Goodbye by Gabriella Ambrosio - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Gabriella Ambrosio
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which, apart from the suffering, the bitterness – an atrocious bitterness – and the terror, left us with a sense of shame. The shame of not having been able to defend ourselves, of having allowed ourselves to be led like lambs to the slaughter. Of not having protected the million children led to the slaughter with us. One million, Nathan!”
As Shoshi spoke she stared at a crumb on the table. Nathan said nothing. Around them people came in one after another to sit down at other tables; they ordered, ate, then went away again. Their day continued, while that of Shoshi and Nathan had suddenly become suspended. Shoshi’s voice was heavy. She spoke slowly, lost in the immense effort of tying up loose ends.
“Perhaps it’s in our DNA by now – fear, rejection. Destruction. Who do you think came to populate the land of Israel? Idealists … the traumatized … dreamers … fanatics… Men who thought to build themselves up by working the land, something they had never done, to rediscover strengths that had perhaps been lost. And we are their children, Nathan.”
Shoshi’s voice was both a whisper and a lament. She stared into the distance. Nathan looked at her. And as he saw her gradually immerse herself in this suffering, he felt himself re-emerging from it.
“We swore it would never happen again; you know how we say: no more Masadas. Never again, Nathan. We came here from all over the world; we practically invented a language with which to talk to one another. But we already understood one another, because a destiny like ours is a bond stronger than any nation.”
She fell silent once more, but she didn’t expect her son to reply. Then she shook herself, and said slowly, but in a high, clear voice, “We have an obligation towards our past and towards the future. We need land, space, to feel safe. You can’t feel safe in a strip of land you can drive across in three or four hours, and which is surrounded by people who hate you.”
Nathan looked at her again, then he asked, “How long have you felt like this?”
Shoshi shrugged and returned his look. “It’s not easy to say, you know. It’s not easy.”
1 P.M.
D IMA WALKS ACROSS THE FIELDS
Dima took the track through the fields. She was wearing jeans and her long hair hung free; a breath of dusty wind rose up to caress her temples and slowly slipped in among the smooth black hair. She was beautiful, with those big bright eyes that had stopped asking questions yet drunk in all that was offered them, until it hurt too badly and they became like glass.
The ground had breathed out the last of the damp and was once more dry and dusty. As she walked over the barren hill, Dima could see the houses of Jerusalem still and waiting. She lengthened her stride. As she walked, her body became charged, grew harder, like a suit of armour. The soles of her feet grew tougher too, tougher than the rocks that protruded from the red earth. Her brain was hardened and vigilant, like a wild beast ready to spring. Her lungs hardened. Her breath became short, dense, the breath of the desert. Blood mingled with shovelfuls of desert soil.
An emptiness engulfed her; as she moved forward, she felt as if she were advancing into a void. Nothing could reach her. Finally nothing could reach her any longer. Her body was so charged, it could sweep away everything around it. She was charged with an inexpressible power.
Her fist on the strap, she clutched the bag slung over her shoulder.
A red van was waiting on the other side of the Bethlehem checkpoint. From her vantage point she could already see it.
M YRIAM CELEBRATES HER S HABBAT
Nothing was as important as this land, despite its being so confused, with its uncertain boundaries and hard-won identity. Once more Myriam felt the trunk pressed hard against her back, while all the surrounding trees, weary of running amok in her mind, slowly began to return to their places.
When a baby was born in Israel, she recalled, the father would
As Shoshi spoke she stared at a crumb on the table. Nathan said nothing. Around them people came in one after another to sit down at other tables; they ordered, ate, then went away again. Their day continued, while that of Shoshi and Nathan had suddenly become suspended. Shoshi’s voice was heavy. She spoke slowly, lost in the immense effort of tying up loose ends.
“Perhaps it’s in our DNA by now – fear, rejection. Destruction. Who do you think came to populate the land of Israel? Idealists … the traumatized … dreamers … fanatics… Men who thought to build themselves up by working the land, something they had never done, to rediscover strengths that had perhaps been lost. And we are their children, Nathan.”
Shoshi’s voice was both a whisper and a lament. She stared into the distance. Nathan looked at her. And as he saw her gradually immerse herself in this suffering, he felt himself re-emerging from it.
“We swore it would never happen again; you know how we say: no more Masadas. Never again, Nathan. We came here from all over the world; we practically invented a language with which to talk to one another. But we already understood one another, because a destiny like ours is a bond stronger than any nation.”
She fell silent once more, but she didn’t expect her son to reply. Then she shook herself, and said slowly, but in a high, clear voice, “We have an obligation towards our past and towards the future. We need land, space, to feel safe. You can’t feel safe in a strip of land you can drive across in three or four hours, and which is surrounded by people who hate you.”
Nathan looked at her again, then he asked, “How long have you felt like this?”
Shoshi shrugged and returned his look. “It’s not easy to say, you know. It’s not easy.”
1 P.M.
D IMA WALKS ACROSS THE FIELDS
Dima took the track through the fields. She was wearing jeans and her long hair hung free; a breath of dusty wind rose up to caress her temples and slowly slipped in among the smooth black hair. She was beautiful, with those big bright eyes that had stopped asking questions yet drunk in all that was offered them, until it hurt too badly and they became like glass.
The ground had breathed out the last of the damp and was once more dry and dusty. As she walked over the barren hill, Dima could see the houses of Jerusalem still and waiting. She lengthened her stride. As she walked, her body became charged, grew harder, like a suit of armour. The soles of her feet grew tougher too, tougher than the rocks that protruded from the red earth. Her brain was hardened and vigilant, like a wild beast ready to spring. Her lungs hardened. Her breath became short, dense, the breath of the desert. Blood mingled with shovelfuls of desert soil.
An emptiness engulfed her; as she moved forward, she felt as if she were advancing into a void. Nothing could reach her. Finally nothing could reach her any longer. Her body was so charged, it could sweep away everything around it. She was charged with an inexpressible power.
Her fist on the strap, she clutched the bag slung over her shoulder.
A red van was waiting on the other side of the Bethlehem checkpoint. From her vantage point she could already see it.
M YRIAM CELEBRATES HER S HABBAT
Nothing was as important as this land, despite its being so confused, with its uncertain boundaries and hard-won identity. Once more Myriam felt the trunk pressed hard against her back, while all the surrounding trees, weary of running amok in her mind, slowly began to return to their places.
When a baby was born in Israel, she recalled, the father would
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