Last week I got a call from Efrat, a woman who works for Achim LaNeshek organizing houses for volunteers like the one I was living in Talmei Yosef. She said they might be opening another house in the area and asked if I would be interested in managing it for a month or two. I said yes.
Last Friday I packed all my things from Talmei Yosef and took them with me to Tel Aviv and then Rehovot. On Sunday I cancelled my planned trip up north to check out Kibbutz Hukok because I got stuck dealing with my health insurance instead. I needed the rest; that night I slept about seventeen hours. On Monday I made the trip South again but this time I went to Moshav Yated, next door to Talmei Yosef, to spend the rest of the week volunteering there and living in the same house as Efrat.
People like Efrat and Ori are working extremely hard. I've been able to help Ori get by with running his house and with the volunteers who don't speak Hebrew. I want to do more, and hopefully I'll have the chance. Over the past month I've seen Ori constantly receive messages on his phone, more than he can possibly respond to in a timely manner, and it's near certain that he spends most of his time answering the same questions repeatedly. With help from another volunteer, I've already made him a document with an English language FAQ. But I think the system of people arranging their stays through WhatsApp is not scalable and they need to use a Google form and email instead, which I've already started setting up.
I've shown a great deal of initiative, without meaning to. When things were broken or dirty, I fixed or cleaned them, because I wanted to live and work in a better environment. When people needed guidance, I changed my plans to meet them and travel together, because I knew nobody else would. I've anticipated and smoothed over cultural divides before they came conflicts, because I wouldn't tolerate any distractions. I've advertised my activity to others who might be interested, because I believe in what I'm doing, and as a result more people have come to volunteer in the area. This week I spoke to every local I could about finding a new house, and got a couple of leads (that turned out to be duds). I'm mostly just glad I've been able to keep doing it. I don't know where the strength is coming from.
This week I lived in a house with 8 roommates, two Israeli, the rest Christians from the US or Poland. We spent the mornings through afternoon sweating in a greenhouse, picking bunches of cherry tomatoes and dropping the overripe, unripe or wormy fruit to the floor. A couple of the Americans are ex-Amnish. All are Christians who take their faith seriously. It was fascinating and extremely moving to have them here. The Americans' tour guide has my phone number and knows about my upcoming position.
I miss everyone I left behind when I came to Israel, and the people I've met here and since parted ways with. When I'm in the Otef, I wish had my family close to help me. When I'm with my family in the center, I sometimes get antsy wanting to get back to the place where I can make a difference. When I take a second to think about what a Hebrew word or phrase means, or how to say my next sentence, I feel alien and a little foolish. When people correct me, or teach me things, I feel validated and respected.
I came here - and stayed - to help. I think it's also helping me. But it's still the hardest thing I'm probably ever going to do, with the highest practical and emotional stakes I've dealt with in my life.
When I'm at work saving a farm, I don't really feel the burden of that.
Each day at 3:00, the work stops. On Shabbat, there's no work at all.
אל תשכח לנוח , העבודה לו והמשברים לעולם לא יגמרו