March 2008 Archives

This week, my time at Mamsheet Camel Ranch is coming to a close. The last time I serve dinner to a tour group will be either tonight or tomorrow; I've probably led my last camel ride because of the pouring rain, and hopefully I will not be raking sand or picking up cigarette butts again for a while. Since my roommate left for the Year Course Poland trip, I won't be watching another episode of Scrubs in our trailer during our free time. The last weekend has passed, so I won't travel anymore through my second home, the Beer Sheva central bus station, to visit people who live in more populated places.

For the next and final three months of Year Course, I will live in a small apartment with a few other guys in Holon, a small city just south of Tel Aviv. While I am excited to spend a lot more time in the center of the country, walk to the Bat Yam beach every day and lead a life that more closely resembles a normal one than my current one, I am going to miss a lot about my desert.

I assume that whatever my volunteering placement is in Holon, it will require me to wake up early and catch a bus to work every day. I will miss the fact that here at Mamsheet, if I walk outside, I'm already at work, and the definition of "work" is very relaxed. If there are no groups coming for Bedouin hospitality or to ride the camels, there is no work. The downside to that is during our busiest time period, "Birthright season," I would sometimes work up to 10 or 12 hours a day. Now that's over, and the past few days my boss told me to come to work "whenever you feel like it."

I will miss the peacefulness of the desert and only seeing sand for as far as I can see. I will miss the sunset. I will miss the camels, except Latifah. She bit me. I will miss my food and laundry being taken care of for me. I will miss the old Russian lady who cleans the bathrooms here. My Hebrew comprehension is still not at 100 percent, and her accent is really strong, but I have still enjoyed smiling, nodding my head and responding "ken" (yes) when she speaks to me.

I will miss the Bedouins I worked with, especially Nasser, who congratulated me by saying, "Good, very good!"

At the beginning of this trimester of Year Course, I had no idea what to expect. It has turned out to be a tough but fun learning experience, and I'm glad I did it.

I will never do anything like this again.

Ben Degani is from Dallas, Texas, and will be attending the University of Texas next year. He enjoys hanging out with friends, playing ultimate Frisbee and listening to music.

Young Judaea Year Course: Check out our Program in Israel 

Ever since first coming to Israel, I knew it was the land of the Jews. After being here for five months, I've learned even more. I've learned we have a biblical history here. I've learned how we've come back to the land with Zionist fervor since the late 19th century. I've learned how we accepted partition plan after partition plan, how we finally got a state and how lucky we are it exists today. I've come to know the Israel of right now--its people, its politics, its geography (yes, I can sort of tell you where Jerusalem is on a map), but there is one thing I only came to understand a few days ago. I recently came to grasp the strong Jewish presence in the state dating back thousands of years.

Because I'm studying in Jerusalem right now, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is as examined as ever. It's a constant question about who really owns the land, who's entitled to it, who's wrong. It's a delicate question that will never produce an answer that will please everyone. It was with this state of mind that I went to the West Bank on a siyur (field trip) last Tuesday with my Zionism class.

The first place we went was the town of K'far Etzion, which is the site of a kibbutz built before the birth of the state of Israel. On the eve of May 14, 1948, the Jordanians, with Palestinian mobs in tow, attacked the kibbutz and eventually overtook it. Every settler fought valiantly to protect their kibbutz, as well as the way to Jerusalem, but by the end of the battle only four settlers survived. The new town of K'far Etzion was built after the kibbutz fell, and it's dedicated to the courageous settlers and their memory. We went into a tiny museum where we saw a video explaining the circumstances of the battle, and I felt an intense pride for the settlers, as well as for Jews in general, who were willing to risk their lives to protect the land they built up from the desert, the land they loved.

The other stop on our siyur was a town well within the West Bank, and way past the green line, the town of T'koa. We heard from a resident there and he explained why the land was so important. We sat overlooking a magnificent view of hills and mountains as he told of King Herod and the Maccabees, who lived in the land approximately 2,000 years ago. The most amazing thing he said was how he went excavating with a friend in the caves in the hills and found a cave that had been occupied by the Maccabees. There, excavators found Maccabean coins and chicken bones. I was floored. I could just picture the Maccabees gathering in that cave, talking strategy, talking Torah, eating some chicken. I felt their presence, and with that, entitlement.

In the Israel of today, things are tumultuous. It's a constant battle between where the border is and why it should be there, and who has historic claim to the land. On that day, I felt the land belonged to me, to all Jews, to our ancestors. I'm not unwilling to give up land for peace; however, I know that if we do, it will now be infinitely harder for me to accept.

Genna Morton, 17 years old, is from Roslyn Heights, N.Y., and is attending Washington University in St. Louis next year. She loves downloading even more music to her iPod and kicking back with a good book.

Young Judaea Year Course: Check out our Program in Israel