No Time for Tears (53 page)

Autumn had been beautiful, a time between summer harvest and winter planting, and it was a favorite time for hikes and outings. Reuven, in his zeal to imbue Joshua with a sense of their homeland, suggested to his aunt Dvora that she allow Joshua to spend a week with Zvi and himself exploring the countryside. Knowing the dangers, Dvora said no, that Joshua was only a little boy. Ari, on the other hand, felt that Reuven was more than equipped to handle the situation. For all her reluctance, Dvora finally gave in. The expedition was carefully planned. They were equipped with two canteens each. Ari briefed Reuven the night before, reminding him not to roam too far, that if they did, their canteens could be taken away by the Bedouins, and what would they do without water?

Reuven laughed. “I’ve done this a dozen times, Uncle Ari. I know how to handle it.”

“
Mazel tov.
But you better be very sure this time, or your mother will have your scalp if anything happens to Joshua, to say nothing of you or Zvi.”

From the money Chavala had sent him, Reuven took twenty-five Palestinian pounds, as well as the camera, and off they went….

As they entered the Arab city, the first stop on their adventure, Reuven’s heart skipped a few beats, though he tried not to show it. He was doing exactly what he’d been told not to do. Kabayah was a small Arab town known for its hostility toward Jews. As the boys passed the coffeehouses and bazaars the looks they received were hardly friendly. Still, they’d come this far, so shoulders back, chin out and head high, Reuven all but held his breath until they left the city behind them, without incident.

Now they went on the road down to the Jordan. It was noon when they arrived and collapsed in a clump of eucalyptus. Joshua was exhausted, even though Reuven had carried him on his back a good part of the way. The little boy immediately fell asleep on the spread blanket, and Reuven watched protectively. It made him feel especially good to be his brother’s protector.

When Joshua woke up, out came the hard-boiled eggs and tins of sardines from their knapsacks, all consumed with gusto. After they’d finished they changed into the extra clothing they’d brought along, Reuven took out the map and scanned it carefully.

The middle of August was a month known for its hot, dry eastern winds, so to insure a supply of water the boys were obliged to walk close to the riverbed. But this in turn meant that Reuven and Zvi had to hack away with their bare hands at the dense vegetation, not to mention the difficulty of crossing the deep ravines.

Toward evening as they neared the Damiya Bridge, they caught sight of a large Bedouin encampment pitched on the riverbank. To avoid it they circled west until they reached the main road through the Jordan Valley. By now it was dark. With very little water left in the canteens, Reuven decided that to conserve both their strength and water they should sleep where they were, alongside the road, rather than look for a place that might be free of thorns, snakes and scorpions. A vote was taken, the other two agreed.

At dawn they began their trek back to the riverbed, avoiding the Bedouin camp, and continued on their way south. The day was a long tiring one, and by the time it was over and they’d gone to sleep the last of their water was gone. Several hours later they woke up with parched tongues. Reuven looked at his watch, it was midnight. The dry, utterly still air was beginning to choke them. He worried about Joshua, thought back to what Ari had said and now realized he shouldn’t have subjected Joshua to all this. He’d been so cocky … well, they were here now and he had to deal with the moment

Nothing for it, in spite of the danger involved in passing the Bedouin camp, but to go back to the river. Reuven warned Joshua to keep as quiet as he could, try not to be afraid. Actually, Joshua was not afraid … not with Reuven along … Slowly, with Joshua on his back, Reuven led them toward the riverbed—

Suddenly the night’s silence was shattered by the barking of dogs. In the darkness they had stumbled into the middle of the Arab encampment. Reuven’s first impulse was to run, but then, with more bravado than he felt, and telling himself that to run would only invite capture, he suggested they walk right in and face the Arabs.

Zvi said, “No. Remember what my father said. I think we should run for it—”

“
My
father told me never to be afraid, that if you don’t show any fear things have a way of working out.”

Zvi yielded to Reuven, always the stronger, but was hardly convinced.

As the three now stood in the circle of darkness Reuven called out, “
Ya zalame
,
ya zalam
,
ya nass
… O men, O man, O people.” And then: “We’ve come to pay our respect to your noble tribe.”

Within moments the Bedouins appeared from their tents with lit torches, saw the three boys trying to look self-confident. Silence.

In the dim light the boys caught sight of the Bedouin chieftain, who seemed surprised and perhaps a bit impressed by such courage. Maybe Dovid had been right. “It’s kind that you should honor us with your presence. Now, what can I do for you?”

“We would be grateful, son of Mecca, to share your water,” Reuven got out.

The old chief actually laughed. “As a reward for your bravery, you shall have it.”

Zvi trembled inside as he watched the water streaming into their canteens. Reuven said, “For your kindness, I would like to present you with this gift.”

The old sheikh looked questioningly at the camera. Reuven explained the mechanics, then took out the film, inserted it. The boys were asked to spend the night. They slept on goatskin rugs, and in the morning they were given breakfast and left not only with canteens full of water but with camel-milk cakes. Reuven decided he’d been vindicated, Joshua was proud of him, and Zvi was just happy to be alive. Not to mention surprised.

They traveled on a crowded bus to Gaza, then went directly to visit the old fort. But before they could explore, an Arab policeman arrested them and brought them to the local police station. They were suspected of being illegal immigrants. The police were, in spite of themselves, impressed by Reuven as he refused to be interrogated in Arabic, refused to be intimidated, and kept insisting that he was born a Palestinian. By the time he finished, Reuven was quite impressed with himself, sure that he had been believed. The Arab policeman, though, was not nearly as benign as the Bedouin chieftain. Until he could definitely establish that the three boys were not aliens, they were put into a cell, despite Reuven telling him in a rising voice that “My father’s name is Dovid Landau, he’s with the Yishuv Central. If you don’t believe me, get in touch with them. Besides, you have no right to keep us here. This isn’t a Turkish courtroom …”

The policeman walked away, leaving his protest hanging in midair.

Dovid was contacted, and several hours later appeared, not at all pleased with Reuven. “How could you have done such a stupid thing? Endangering not only yourself but Joshua and Zvi. You mean to tell me you went into Arab territory?”

“I know,
abba
, but you told me never to be afraid—”

“I
also
know that I told you never to be a fool.”

Dovid finally managed to free them, but not without embarrassment to himself as well….

When they arrived back home their exploits quickly became known to Reuven’s peers at Kfar Shalom and in spite of what Dovid, Ari and Dvora thought, Reuven emerged a young hero…

Thinking about those wonderfully exciting months, Joshua felt intensely his love and admiration for Reuven. He badly wanted to be a part of the youth group that Reuven was the head of. He longed to walk the length and breadth of Palestine to the sites of ancient battles and visit the tombs and the cities. He admired the traditional blue shirts and shorts the young people wore, and their songs about the homeland:

Who will build

Galilee?

We! We!

And the melodies of “Elijah the Prophet,” who called out:

Come unto us,

Come in our time.

Bring Messiah

Of David’s line.

The echo of that ancient chant reverberated in Joshua’s mind. He would, he determined, keep his promise to Reuven to come back, to dedicate himself to Eretz Yisroel too….

Julie and Moishe had now become proud parents of a lovely daughter named Laura. Chia and Lenny made up for lost time … they had the blessing of
twins
, a boy named Gideon, a girl named Aviva—since they had been born in April, Aviva, meaning spring, seemed especially fitting….

In Palestine Zvi had become, Reuven wrote, not only proficient in Hebrew, but devoted most of his time to the Zionist youth movement….

For Chavala, life had not stood still either. The year was now 1928. The country seemed to be flourishing. The stock market was climbing to untold heights, and so was Chavala’s business. Still, the demands on her had escalated too. Not just because the family had expanded. Palestine was in terrible need financially. Family … Palestine … they became one for her. She expanded her operation. The pawnshop on Mott Street was doing so well she spoke to the
landsman
and it was decided that five more shops in different areas should be established. By now the operation of Landau’s on Fifth Avenue had become
totally
respectable. Chavala bought wholesale from Mr. Leibowitz, and so was able to produce statements. She added to Landau’s on Fifth Avenue by opening a fine jewelry shop in Miami, and another in Los Angeles. Chavala Landau was a national enterprise.

Chavala was also on a treadmill, or so she felt. Time nudged her. She knew that Joshua had grown away from her. His needs had grown as consistently as Chavala’s business. And, unknown to Chavala, his determination to rejoin Reuven also grew….

In September of 1929, the world stopped spinning, fell apart. But not for Chavala. By the time the crash came, Chavala had amassed sufficient liquid assets to buy up properties at unheard-of bargain prices. She bought a six-story apartment house on Sixty-eighth Street between Fifth Avenue and Madison Avenue, two office buildings on Lexington Avenue, and a sizable parcel of land in Jamaica, New York, just outside of Manhattan. She set up trust funds for all the children, including Sheine’s little Erich.

The needs of Raizel and her sons were especially great. Since their capacity to earn was so limited, Chavala supported them. Raizel, frugal as she was, never, Chavala was convinced, used any of the money for anything as frivolous as, for example, a new dress. Chavala knew where it went … beyond the basic necessities of life her sister gave to charity and the
shul.
Well, if that was what her sister felt was most important, it was fine with Chavala … except she did wish just
once
Raizel would be a little selfish, do a little something for herself …

What especially pleased Chavala was that Ari no longer seemed to resent her contributions, she didn’t have to use subterfuges as in the past, thank God. He seemed to realize that without her help Dvora’s life would have been drudgery. He also felt no need to apologize to the rest of the
chevra.
The
important
thing was Dvora’s life, and to the extent Chavala could help lighten the load, he not only accepted it but was able to be grateful. Dvora had her new stone house with four bedrooms. Even more exciting was, when electricity came to Kfar Shalom, Dvora could have a new refrigerator and stove, and miracle of miracles, a washing machine.

Chavala was also grateful to Julie and Moishe, and to Chia and Lenny, for allowing her to make available for them apartments in her new apartment house on Sixty-eighth Street. Without apology she lived in the penthouse. It was, she thought thankfully, a good deal of family under one roof. Family…

But if Chavala’s life seemed to be fulfilling itself, one of the main sources of her inspiration, indeed, her calling, was coming onto harder and harder times.

The year 1929 was not only the year of the crash of the world’s economy, it was a time when Palestine was besieged with turmoil, betrayal and revolt. The emergence of the dynamic kibbutzim had sparked a cultural revival of Jews … School systems emerged, political affairs were managed through the Jewish Agency, of which Dovid was a prominent official, and independently of the Arabs—and increasingly of the British. The Arabs, made nervous by the higher living standards of the Jewish community in Palestine, as well as its tendency to act like a separate nation, felt the Jewish institutions were somehow alien intrusions. Not surprisingly they worried that the Jewish example might spark unrest and rebellion among the
fellaheen
masses—whose standard of living hadn’t changed materially in a thousand years. The Yishuv’s progress was seen with bitterness and suspicion.

As for the British, they were caught between conflicting promises made to Jews and Arabs. But it was the Arabs that they saw as their allies, the Jews as their threat. The Arab world was increasingly discontented, and so it had to be appeased. The British proceeded to make it illegal for the Yishuv to own weapons—despite that the Jews had always supported the British. The British, experts at rationalization, reminded them that they had, after all, allowed Jewish settlements … Besides, Jews owned land, but the Arabs owned oil.

The British would welcome an Arab leader, one to emerge from the inner squabbles of the Arabs. The most powerful effendi family was the El Husseinis, who had inherited Transjordan, a state invented by the peacemakers after the First World War. The most feared of them was Haj Amim el Husseini, a former supporter of the Turks, who saw a power vacuum and proceeded to fill it. The Ottoman Empire was kaput. The British were nervous about the Jews, who had taken the Balfour Declaration seriously and proceeded to try to secure a homeland—even, it seemed, create a Jewish state. The British embraced the doctrine of divide and rule. And into the breach came Haj Amim, backed by over a dozen Arab leaders, to grab off what he could of Palestine and proclaim himself mufti of Jerusalem. If there was violence between the Arabs and the Jews, the British could protest they were doing their best to put it down, at the same time looking the other direction when Haj Amim seized power, and proceeded to stir up the
fellaheen.