the direction of the women. The heavy set woman got up and left the room. She came back after a few minutes with a pot full of black coffee, a tray of freshly baked buns, butter and goat cheese. Salim reached under the table and produced three small ceramic cups. He poured the coffee and offered them the buns and spreads. The combination had a heavenly taste.
The bakery was a family operation, Karen learned. The heavyset woman was Salim's wife, the youths were his children and the truck driver was his brother. The bakery was first opened by Salim's father in the 1920s. It supplied all the Arab villages in the region before the Jewish settlers moved in. When Salim took over in 1955, it was the Jewish settlements that provided him with most of the work. Many of his Arab clients disapproved but he never mixed business with religious and political beliefs. He was a businessman and a survivor. Mikki first met him when he assisted on the kibbutz's bread delivery truck. They would come in every morning at 4:00 to pick up the fresh bread for the day. Salim would offer them coffee and they would sit and chat for a while before driving back. They became friends. Mikki would come in whenever he was in the area.
Salim insisted on grasping the essence of their relationship and wouldn't let them leave until he had all the facts. Mikki had taken on the role of a translator communicating the baker's most sensitive questions to Karen who took an instant liking to the kind old baker and his hard working family. Salim's wife packed some pitas and buns for them as they were getting ready to leave. Salim hugged them both as they left the bakery and stood there, leaning against the door, smiling and waving goodbye, as they sped away.
They were back on the main road heading north, having left the sleepy town behind. Mikki turned east at the Beit-Hilel intersection, and shortly after began to climb the steep mountain range of the Golan. The road was extremely narrow and the turns were sharp. Several army vehicles nearly ran them off the road. Karen let out a sigh of relief as they reached the top. Mikki smiled at her reassuringly as he eased the car off the road, parking dangerously close to the edge of a cliff. They got out and walked to the edge.
The view was breathtaking. The Hula valley lay below in all its glory. Karen could see the farm land divided into squares and rectangles. Spring was everywhere. The fertile ground was green, the Jordan River a slender snake, crawling lazily along, splitting the valley in half. Dirt roads crisscrossed the entire valley in all directions. Tractors and farm vehicles could be seen working the land. Most of the settlements were clearly visible. Opposite stood the stern Naftali Mountains.
"This is what the Syrians saw before the ‘67 war," Mikki was explaining, "we were sitting ducks. Can you see the main highway?"
The line of Eucalyptus trees hiding the main highway was clearly contrasted against the flat farmland. Karen could see bright reflections of light from cars passing between the trees.
"You could throw a stone and hit those tractors working the fields," Mikki continued, but Karen wasn't paying much attention, enjoying a sense of freedom she had never felt before. For the first time in her life she was on her own, free to deal with life without scrutiny. She felt she could accomplish anything if she could only break the invisible umbilical cord that kept pulling at her, repressing her aspirations. She wanted to preserve the feeling for as long as possible but knew it would only last a few precious moments. She glanced at Mikki. His curly brown hair fluttered backward in the wind exposing his high forehead. His face was tanned and rugged. His demeanor seemed rough but his touch was gentle. She loved his straightforward manner. He shared everything with her without fear.
She suddenly felt very aware, as if looking at
The bakery was a family operation, Karen learned. The heavyset woman was Salim's wife, the youths were his children and the truck driver was his brother. The bakery was first opened by Salim's father in the 1920s. It supplied all the Arab villages in the region before the Jewish settlers moved in. When Salim took over in 1955, it was the Jewish settlements that provided him with most of the work. Many of his Arab clients disapproved but he never mixed business with religious and political beliefs. He was a businessman and a survivor. Mikki first met him when he assisted on the kibbutz's bread delivery truck. They would come in every morning at 4:00 to pick up the fresh bread for the day. Salim would offer them coffee and they would sit and chat for a while before driving back. They became friends. Mikki would come in whenever he was in the area.
Salim insisted on grasping the essence of their relationship and wouldn't let them leave until he had all the facts. Mikki had taken on the role of a translator communicating the baker's most sensitive questions to Karen who took an instant liking to the kind old baker and his hard working family. Salim's wife packed some pitas and buns for them as they were getting ready to leave. Salim hugged them both as they left the bakery and stood there, leaning against the door, smiling and waving goodbye, as they sped away.
They were back on the main road heading north, having left the sleepy town behind. Mikki turned east at the Beit-Hilel intersection, and shortly after began to climb the steep mountain range of the Golan. The road was extremely narrow and the turns were sharp. Several army vehicles nearly ran them off the road. Karen let out a sigh of relief as they reached the top. Mikki smiled at her reassuringly as he eased the car off the road, parking dangerously close to the edge of a cliff. They got out and walked to the edge.
The view was breathtaking. The Hula valley lay below in all its glory. Karen could see the farm land divided into squares and rectangles. Spring was everywhere. The fertile ground was green, the Jordan River a slender snake, crawling lazily along, splitting the valley in half. Dirt roads crisscrossed the entire valley in all directions. Tractors and farm vehicles could be seen working the land. Most of the settlements were clearly visible. Opposite stood the stern Naftali Mountains.
"This is what the Syrians saw before the ‘67 war," Mikki was explaining, "we were sitting ducks. Can you see the main highway?"
The line of Eucalyptus trees hiding the main highway was clearly contrasted against the flat farmland. Karen could see bright reflections of light from cars passing between the trees.
"You could throw a stone and hit those tractors working the fields," Mikki continued, but Karen wasn't paying much attention, enjoying a sense of freedom she had never felt before. For the first time in her life she was on her own, free to deal with life without scrutiny. She felt she could accomplish anything if she could only break the invisible umbilical cord that kept pulling at her, repressing her aspirations. She wanted to preserve the feeling for as long as possible but knew it would only last a few precious moments. She glanced at Mikki. His curly brown hair fluttered backward in the wind exposing his high forehead. His face was tanned and rugged. His demeanor seemed rough but his touch was gentle. She loved his straightforward manner. He shared everything with her without fear.
She suddenly felt very aware, as if looking at
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