Reuniting
Reunions of one kind and another: little Iris who is now no longer little at all, old friends from years ago. On the first Saturday after my arrival I was breakfasting, when two of her old friends walked in the door. One was Fay, who lives back in Australia usually. She greeted me as if she knows me really well. And, indeed, she does! Come to find out she has been reading my blog daily for all these months. An exciting moment when I realized that those 255 hits from Australia on my stats counter were, in fact, Fay! Telephone reunion with my old tennis partner who I have not seen for 18 years. Perhaps next year she and I will play a game for old times sake: she at age 77 and me at 57.
Healing and Integration
One week ago was The Reunion. Early in the morning I awoke in anticipation of the event. I was excited. After my morning tea I started to feel shaky and not a little fearful. How on earth could I present myself, aging and gray-haired, quite plump and wrinkly? Were it not for my friend philosophically sharing his memorable quotes, I might not have gone. And so at three in the afternoon off we went, driving through the hills and vales all the way to the Jezreel Valley and back to my beloved Kibbutz Yizra'el. I watched the countryside rush by my window, almost every rock and tree arousing familiar memories of days gone by. Israel is such an ancient, biblical land, human pain ever embedded in its soil, not just from these days lately, but from hundreds, thousands of historical years ago. My heart felt heavy for I love that land and had indeed shared it with friends and family for nineteen years once. Pieces of my past used to haunt me unfinished and as if in exile to my present being.
We arrived at the kibbutz and as I walked towards the registration tables for my name tag I started to notice tens of people most of whom looked quite a bit like me: aging and gray-haired, quite plump and wrinkly. I almost gasped out loud, "We are all in this aging thing together!" I felt immediately relieved and before I had time for any more philosophical contemplations I was recognizing and being greeted by many, many old friends. Even my son's father was there. This was extra specially fun because Stan and I had met on this same Kibbutz 35 years ago. He was a shepherd and our first date was taking the sheep out to pasture. Ah - it was so romantic. Stan had wild dark curly hair and a rich black beard in those days. He looked quite ancient and biblical as he walked down the hillside in front of the sheep calling out "Arrreh" coaxing them to come along with him. We sat out on a blanket eating fruit and crackers, watching the sheep as they grazed silently in the field. Stan and I talked for awhile at the entrance to the reunion and met up here and there all over the place. I felt at home, forgiven, healing as each minute went by. I was gathering in my haunted past self out of exile and integrating it into the present. The feeling was difficult to describe: elation, warmth, relief, joy, nostalgia. It was most exciting when people recognized me without my name tag and that happened often.
The first few hours were taken up with tea and cake, "boereworse" and water melon, reuniting, and sharing stories. Did it make us feel hopeful? We had not lost each other - a seeming constancy of life in a dynamic and fast-paced world. And then onto the evening entertainment with old songs, skits and inspiring speeches. 1200 attendees sitting out on the vast lawn space near the community center of the Kibbutz. A small stage had been raised with three little steps to climb up. I laughed with Bruce Oppenheimer, one of the organizers, as I climbed the steps onto the stage. I was going up to sing Miriam Makeba's Click Song in Xhosa just as I had always done years ago around many campfires. I said, "Bruce, these little steps are going to be tough for me to descend. Didn't you all realize that some of us are in our fifties, sixties and older when designing them?" Facing out into the dark, summer evening I could see hundreds of faces of the audience. Even the South African Ambassador was there! It was an exciting moment indeed. I trembled as I sang, feeling happy and humbled to be joining in the entertainment of such an event. I worried that my rendition of the Xhosa language would be authentic and respectful for the Ambassador to hear. What a day in my personal history to have a Black African ambassador at our Habonim Reunion listening to me singing the Click Song. A dream realized - the end of apartheid.
Standing with the crowd as we all stood to sing Nkosi Sikelel i'Africa as well as Israel's anthem was moving indeed. I was proud of the youth group visiting from South Africa as they spoke of their on-going volunteer work with the South African community as well as the stand they proclaimed without hesitation supporting Israel's disengagement from occupied territories.
After the midnight hour we fell exhausted into Ian's car for the drive home. As we wound our way through the night I was quiet and reflective listening to other friends in the car as they chatted about this or that person we had seen. I was thinking about how some of us might keep in touch and others will disappear again. I was so grateful that Dave Bloom had notified me of the event for it came at a time in my life where I feel I have been gathering in pieces of myself, as I enter yet another stage in my life journey.
Reunions are so much more than just getting together with old friends; they allow and even prod us into thinking about where we began and where we are now in our journeys, and who has come along with us, even if we didn't know it at the time.
Posted by: kenju | July 07, 2005 at 03:00 PM
Yes indeed. It was a profound experience for me, "kenju" for many reasons, including those you mention here.
Posted by: Tamar | July 08, 2005 at 08:59 AM
Such warmth and feeling! Such powerful imagery! "A dream realized..."
Posted by: Winston | July 09, 2005 at 04:03 PM