In the field...

So my day of work in the fields near Gaza is over. It was a nice, interesting experience, but the best part of it was when I went off the bus tonight and found myself in Jerusalem. Oh, the air here - I need it like oxygen. The air here is like the air in no other place. I felt embraced by a Presence, and thanked Hashem in my heart for the huge privilege to be living here, however partial and lacking this 'life' is. It is funny. On my way to the south, I told myself that if I like it, perhaps I can even stay there for several days, perhaps even weeks or months. But after just one day, coming back here to my holy, beautiful city, makes me feel like it is not a good idea to leave it. Not even for volunteering in the south. So now I am already after shower, drinking hot tea and eating dates and nuts. Yummy. Grateful!

I woke up before 6 am, said my morning prayers, ate some pita bread with hummus and went out with the farmer to the field. He said that the houses we see a couple of km away are the houses of Kibbutz Be'eri... We were the first in the field, with one Thai worker. Later another Thai worker came. So now I know that not all of the Thai workers left. Most of them did, but not all of them. This specific farmer used to have 9 or 10 Thais, but now he has only 3. In the nearby moshav the Arabs butchered 16 Thai workers, not 40 as I wrote last time. Still, 16 people who are not even Jewish and who have nothing to do with the reasons Arabs hate us, and they pay with their lives... I feel so sorry for their families. 

Anyway, we picked celery today, not beets. I took off my shoes and worked barefoot the whole day, enjoying the feel of the wet soil under my feet. It is very healthy! We worked for 8 hours. There was no toilet there, so I made an effort to drink very little water, so as not to need the bathroom. I'm a heavy drinker of water. Every morning I drink one litter or more. It was hard not to drink, but I was too busy to think about it.

Later, 4 more volunteers joined us, all older than me: one university professor (national religious man), his friend, and two foreign ladies, one of them came especially from Europe for a week to volunteer in Israel. There was some nice chit-chat between us as we were working, and some times of quiet when each was focused on the work and on their inner world. We each received a knife and taught how to cut and clean. Of course (of course!) I cut my hands several times. If I ever volunteer in fields again, I should remember to take gloves. I was bleeding, but the wounds were very superficial, so not a lot of blood. Anyway, I let two drops of my blood fall to the earth. I thought that it is a symbolic act - in the region where blood was spilled in a cruel, barbaric way by the Arabs, the soil gets two drops of blood from the exact opposite pole - as a result of a charitable act, an act whose purpose is to help and build, not to murder and destroy. 

We didn't hear the news for the whole day, but we didn't have to. The news were audible from nearby Gaza. I knew there was supposed to be a ceasefire around 10 am, but the bombing continued. We learned to ignore the booms.  

We were supposed to stop working after 6 hours, but I felt I wanted to work more, because I don't know if and when the next time would be. After 8 hours, my hands were black with mud, even under the fingernails. It took a lot of water to partially clean it, and then some soap. My feet were covered with mud. My clothes were covered with mud. I felt I couldn't go back to "civilization" like this. I took a shower in the family's house,  changed my clothes, ate another pita, drank some tea, fell asleep exhausted beyond measure on their sofa (again, no one was in the house...) until their son came to take me to the nearby city, to the bus going to Jerusalem. 

So glad to be home. And yes, we did a lot of work and this makes me happy too.