Since my last post, a few things have changed. We've had more Tzeva Adoms and apparently a Qassam rocket fell into a kibbutz nearby. Most of the parents of the people from the program were very worried, and sent over 100 (!) e-mails to the people in charge, pressuring them to move us out of Holit. A meeting was held and a decision was made - we have to leave Kibbutz Holit for an indefinite amount of time. We all started to make a huge fuss about it, because this meant that the English and the Spanish speakers would be separated, because there is no other kibbutz, which can hold 70 people on short notice and give everyone a place to work too. But the Hanhaga (people in charge of the program) promised us that there is a chance of returning to Holit after two weeks in the North, if the situation with Gaza remains calm. We are now living in Kibbutz Barkai, which was established by our movement and has approximately 200 members.
There is nothing worse than last minute packing. I absolutely hate it, but that is what I get from not packing the night before. Not that I am lazy, which of course may have been a factor too, but because I really don't want to leave. I soon discover that I am not the only one who wasn't in the mood for packing during what could have been the last night in Holit. We've stayed there for over one and a half months, and even though the kibbutz is tiny, the members are not very left-winged and the food is crappy, we have grown fond of this place. Maybe there is more to it, that most of the other people aren't packed yet either. During the ride the bus is silent - everyone is asleep because they stayed up too long the night before in order to party one last time in Holit.
Our Madricha wakes us up through the microphone, and tells us that we have arrived in kibbutz Barkai. I look outside the window and see that we are on a hill, driving through what seems to be a small town. I am not the only one who is confused - someone asks the madricha if these houses already belong to the kibbutz, which apparently they do. Coming from a kibbutz with 23 members, we are not used to these dimensions. After we bring our luggage to the rooms, a member of the kibbutz comes to speak to us and welcome us to Barkai. "This is a small kibbutz, we are only about 200 members." Everyone, including me, starts laughing. If he knew where we just came from!
Barkai really is huge. In contrast to Holit, which was privatized last year, this kibbutz is still communal and has a huge dining room. There is a laundry service, a kindergarden, a farm with cows, horses and other farm animals, artists in residence, event rooms and even a beautiful place that couples can rent in order to get married. The Kolbo (kibbutz shop) is a real supermarket and the pub, which sells more than three drinks, is open every night. If you walk through the kibbutz, you see many children that play together on one of many playgrounds and a bunch of elderly people, that have lived there almost their entire life. Long story short - Barkai is alive, and we all love it here.
So why even bother to go back to the south? The night before we left Holit, Oren, a kibbutznik who works with us in the orchard, invited us over for coffee and tea to tell us about Holit's history. Holit used to be located in Sinai, but was later evacuated and rebuilt by the government next to the Gaza strip. It was never a big kibbutz, but more and more people left and Holit went through big financial issues. The kibbutz movement wanted to close Holit a couple of times already, but it somehow still managed to stay alive. One of the reasons that it wasn't closed yet, is that our movement established their educational center there. So even though the kibbutz is privatized, not especially beautiful and it wasn't established by our movement, isn't it fair that the program of our socialist movement takes place there? Isn't this, what socialist zionism is truly about?
The main difference between Holit and Barkai is our role as volunteers. In Barkai, everyone is happy to see us and talk to us, but it truly doesn't matter if we show up for work in the morning. In Holit, where we are needed, we can truly make a difference and help this kibbutz to exist. So even though I hate the food and the laundry machine makes clothes dirtier than they already are, I really hope we return to the south. Not just because we will be a group of 70 people again, or because we have become good friends with some of the members, but because when I visit Holit in a couple of years, I know that I helped to keep this kibbutz alive. So even though it is exciting to live and work in a completely different kibbutz for a while, maybe I will pack the night before we leave for Holit. Just because I can't wait to return.
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