This is a post from contributor Andyboy. You can visit him at the Andyboy blog.
This is another little anecdote from my first visit to Israel 47 years ago, when I participated in a study mission, organised by the JNF of Great Britain.
Although the main aim was to show us the work of the JNF/Keren Kayemeth, in all its various facets, the scope was broadened to include other organisations and explain the interconnection between them and the JNF. One of these groups was the Keren Hayesod, and specifically its work in the absorption of new immigrants.
In those years most immigrants arrived by sea. And so it was that, very early one morning, we found ourselves waiting at the dockside in Haifa, eagerly awaiting the arrival of a ship bringing new immigrants from Morocco. Actually, Jewish emigration from there was banned in 1956 and had only recently been resumed, so these were among the first immigrants of the new wave.
Soon we witnessed the excitement as the families, at the end of a long and arduous journey, descended the gangway and found themselves, finally, in the Promised Land. There was much crying and a good deal of noise created by the ululating women, using the traditional Arabic/North African manner of showing great joy. After a few bureaucratic formalities, the families were transferred to buses to transport them to their new homes.
Each of us was allocated to a specific family; the idea was to go with them as they set out to begin their new life. Unfortunately, communication was somewhat restricted, since we didn’t speak Arabic, and they couldn’t speak a word of English. Eventually, we discovered that many of them spoke French. So, with the remnants of my schoolboy memories of that language, I endeavoured to hold a conversation with ‘my’ family.
The stories they told were fascinating and disturbing. This particular group came from Casablanca, a city made famous by a movie that did not deal with the Jewish aspect of its history. They told of pogroms and persecution; of being treated as second class citizens and, generally, were so unhappy that they, literally, prayed for deliverance. They could not say enough bad things about Casablanca, and they convinced us how desperately they wanted to live in Israel.
After many hours travelling, we eventually arrived at our destination. I don’t recall the exact place, but it appeared to be in the middle of a desert.
The absorption centre consisted of a number of identical factory constructed apartment blocks, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Just buildings; no roads or pavements; no trees or plants or flowers of vegetation of any sort. Just blocks of concrete in a wilderness. The bus fell silent as the immigrants took in the surroundings. Then started the shouting and the wailing: “why did we come here?” “Why did we leave Casablanca – we were happy and secure there!” ”We don’t want to be here!” ”We want to be with our families in Tel Aviv, Haifa or Jerusalem!” My fractured French couldn’t really cope but our Arabic speaking guide filled in the bits I didn’t understand. The people simply refused to leave the bus. All the entreaties of the officials fell on deaf ears, What to do?
Eventually the members of our group were ordered off the bus, the doors were closed and the engine switched off. We stood around uncomfortably trying to understand what would happen next. But we were certainly not prepared for what did happen. The Officials told us to come with them to their office to wait.
I should explain that this was Israel on an afternoon in mid July. The external temperature was at least 40 degrees Celsius. The temperature inside the bus was at least 10 degrees higher, and rising by the minute. Surprisingly, the officials were very relaxed about the situation. In response to our shocked questioning, they replied that this was the reaction of most of the people brought to this spot. The officials were used to it, and this was how they always dealt with it. They insisted that they were not being inhuman, and they understood the reasons for the behaviour of the immigrants. They said that adjustment would take time, but it would happen.And, they claimed that this method always worked. Well, of course, it did in the short-term.
After about an hour the immigrants gave up, got off the bus and were taken to their apartments. We left to continue our trip, still in a state of shock and disbelief. I did try to find out what happened later, and was assured that the immigrants had settled down and everything was OK. How long they remained there, I never knew.
It was an unexpected insight into the reality of immigration absorption in the Holy Land. And, for a cynic like me, a reason to speculate about their real purpose in coming to Israel………..
Image by UggBoy♥UggGirl [ PHOTO // WORLD // TRAVEL ]
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