Moving Day #568

In the past 3 months I’ve moved from Tallahassee to Jupiter, (insert moving 7,000 miles across the world), Jupiter to Karmiel, Karmiel to Arad and yesterday morning, Arad to Ofakim. After some minor (well, major actually), setbacks, my 3 Ofa girls and I are finally settling into our new Jersey Metro West partnership city of Ofakim. (I know I am not from New Jersey, but I was lucky enough to be paired with them!) (Also, naturally I rounded 4 actual moves to 568. Have you met me?)

I’ve obviously felt so many emotions and thoughts and there’s been so much happening in the past 2 weeks that it literally feels like months. The whole rockets to and from Gaza thing and being evacuated thing and not being where we’re supposed to thing but trying to make the best of it was only about a week and a half span. But, SHIT, I tell you – it feels like a month. But life is already back to normal in Israel. There is a “ceasefire” and we are hoping for things to stay quiet in the south. I live 14 miles from Gaza in a town of 27,000. What does that mean, you ask? That means that I don’t ever leave my house. Just kidding! It means that I live my life as an Israeli, which includes living life normally, but knowing what to do in the event of a siren or emergency. Luckily, our cute house is literally 3 seconds away from the bomb shelter, which doubles as a bike shop.

Quick recap of yesterday, Monday, also known as, moving day number 568: minibus from Arad to Ofakim where Tal, one of our wonderful Metro West partnership staff members, met us at our house. We had some time at the house for essentials like restroom and making sure the internet worked, and then lunch at an amazing restaurant that I have a feeling we’ll be at a lot. Meat kababs and an array of appeteasers that will make you drool: eggplant every which way, Israeli salad, corn salad, spicy sauces, hummus with beans and egg, etc. To die for. Post lunch we went grocery shopping and got our bike rentals from the above mentioned neighbor bike shop/bomb shelter.  Fast forward to this morning.

I walk into the Yeshiva (all boys, modern Orthodox high school where prayer and Torah study are included in the curriculum), and immediately hear screaming in Hebrew from just outside the office. Tal and I slow our pace as she tells me that this is Rafi, the principal, whom I am about to spend 3 months working for. Letting the student go, whom we later learned was climbing on the building and denying it, Rafi  spots us and his entire demeanor changes. He throws his arms open and yells over to us, with a huge smile on his face, “I AM NOT ALWAYS SCREAMING!!” I am laughing out loud and already thinking to myself that after knowing this man for approximately 3 seconds, that we will get along splendidly.

Rafi is covered in crazy white hair on his head, on his face and coming out of his ears. His kippa is crooked, but absolutely fitting. He leads Tal and I into his office, where he starts out by saying that I am a blessing, and that I am very important here. (Please, tell me more!) The students desperately need help with their English and when Rafi discovered that OTZMA would be in Ofakim this year, he practically accosted Tal requesting a volunteer every day all day. Tal explains to me how she had to talk him out of having me there for 12 hours a day. The school is for 7^th-12^th grade boys in the area. Their English levels vary, but the matriculation exam, similar to the SAT’s, given in 12^th grade, is what they will need to hone in on their English skills for. This test has both verbal and written English parts. Rafi says that he is very organized and that I will not have to worry. I smile. He says that he, the education coordinator, Yoam, and the English teachers have already set up work for me to do with my students (you heard him – MINE) as well as time marks in which certain work needs to be met. I am extremely surprised at this because the previous Israeli school I was at lacked organization. I am already impressed. Rafi explains my job requirements and expectations (which, by the way, is in some English and some Hebrew which Tal then translates. Because Tal’s English is so good, he gets embarrassed by his own, but when we were alone he was just great! ): I will be pulling out 1 or 2 students at a time (to my own classroom, mind you) to work on the same stuff that is going on in their classes, but for them may be more difficult. Every two to three weeks, we will meet and assess their progress, my abilities and make any changes necessary. Many of the students can speak English decently, but their reading and writing skills are very poor. I tell him that my Hebrew is basically nonexistent and admittedly I have not worked so hard to learn, but I will put 100% into my work here. I tell him I am eager to work with him and his students and although I am no miracle worker, I will always do my best. He nods with approval and satisfaction.

Tal leaves us, and then Rafi gives me a tour of the school which is a few rundown buildings with classrooms, libraries, synogogues and other random rooms. A brand new sports complex shines next to it.

There are no kids in the courtyard, which Rafi attributes to his habit of always being around. He says he can’t just sit down in his office, he loves to walk around and make sure everyone is doing their thing. His interactions with the students is endearing – a little nudge on the face, laughing and intructions to go pray if you’re not in class. He explains to me his procedure for not answering his phone during the day, “I am not answering now, because I am with you and this important!” He introduces me to a blonde woman, essentially their janitor/groundskeeper, as part of the family and as “equal to us.”

Rafi is originally from Morocco but moved to Israel when he was 5, 6, 15? I don’t know, I’m working with broken English here, people! He also went to Yeshiva when he was younger and has dedicated his entire adult life to the betterment of Ofakim’s school systems. In the past, he has started a yearlong program between high school and the first year of the army which prepares Israelis educationally, emotionally and religiously; been a student, principal and teacher; helped to divide the current school from 600 students and 1 campus to 3 campuses of all boys, all girls and mixed; and oh, had 7 children and 4 grandchildren. Rafi believes in education and he wants the young people of Ofakim to stay here, enjoy themselves and raise their families.

Rafi invited me over for Shabbat on numerous occasions during our hour-long meeting. That is also an Israeli thing – everytime you meet someone and have more than a 5 minute conversation with them, they invite you to spend Shabbat with them. The girls and I even gave out our number at baking class tonight for the very same reason! (More on that later. Teaser: I have no will power.) He told me, with his hand over his chest, that even if he doesn’t always invite me from his mouth, his heart is always inviting me. “Same thing!” he says, pointing to his mouth and heart. “If I have something to do and you cannot come, I tell you! But come! And if you need anything, at 10 or 11, ask! We not sleeping.” Considering that Rafi and his wife, who is the coordinator for the National Service girls in Ofakim, are my neighbors, I absolutely plan on popping over for Shabbats and chats. I must be careful though, because he has already told me he will find me a husband so I stay in Ofakim forever. Oy. Trace already warned me about converting. And I can’t do the whole long skirts every day thing. (Although I will now. Just got two today! We call it ‘Ortho Chic.’) I love leggings too much.

Speaking of leggings, I have to address the weather here in Ofakim because it is actually changing my mood. It’s a thing, people. This weather is making me happy and giddy and it is a little embarrassing. During the day it’s in the 60s with the sun shining and then it chills down at night. I usually need to sleep with a fan, but here I sleep with a sweatshirt. I LOVE IT. My roommates, all three who are from the Northeast and have experienced actual winter, are cold!? I’m the Floridian here! Nonetheless, this evening the 4 of us went for a brisk bike ride around town and it was so splendid that I made them all promise to do it every night. It may be a stretch, but for now we’re 1 for 1!

Not to alarm anyone, but there is an igloo in Ofakim. Yes, Ofakim is in the desert. But there is an igloo shaped building which is an art center and tonight, I fell madly in love with it. It was one of the afternoon/evening volunteer options given to us during our site visit a month back, and my number one option when I emailed the staff that same evening. This afternoon there was a class of about 15 children participating in a weekly, or possibly bi-weekly, art class. Sarit, who I am assuming is the director of the igloo, doesn’t speak English but she is a stylish doll and we got along just fine. She said she was sorry she didn’t speak English (in perfect English) but I said NO! I am more sorry – we’re in your country here, babe! (I didn’t actually say that. I actually said “ain baya!” meaning “no problem!” We’re best friends now.) She wasn’t in charge of the class anyways. The teacher on Tuesdays, Sivon, had the kids use tracing paper to copy a picture out of newspapers from last week. The purpose of the project was for the kids to be able to express themselves after what the city/country had been through. It was so interesting to see the different ages understand and participate on different levels. Kids were tracing pictures of Hillary Clinton with the Israeli flag, others, IDF soldiers in the field and one even a rocket mid flight. There’s that art therapy thing again. Hmm. Only about 2% of the children spoke English and even those who did, didn’t really understand me. I love art and children and I feel that this sort of volunteer option has the possibility to strengthen and combine these passions of mine. However, the fact that I know so little Hebrew is holding me back – a little at the Yeshiva, but more so here. As I walked home tonight, excited to return to the ‘gloo (yes, I just made up a nickname right here, right now), I promised myself I would try harder. At least for the kids. Kids love me! (Am I right, or am I right?)

Post igloo sesh, Shai, one of the Metro West staff, took us to a baking class at the community center. We made Challah, cookies, cake and these jelly filled doughnuts called sufganiyot, a popular treat around Hanukkah, which I have been deprived of my entire life and for which I solely blame my parents. Some little yenta (the one we whored our number out to in response to an invite to Shabbat because “her cake is better”), put me in charge of frying, filling and dusting these little balls, so naturally, a few went missing. There were also these rolled up cakes filled with chocolate and cinnamon. I may or may not have had a lot of that as well. Good thing we took that bike ride around town!

So far, Ofakim is so good. Are you surprised I used such mundane words to describe it? I don’t want to over OR under sell or expect or make any final decisions (Hell, I’ve been here 2 days!), so I’ll just stick with “so good.” Our Metro West staff is great, I can walk or bike everywhere and I found a kiosk that sells just fruits, vegetables and herbs.

Welcome to Ofakim, we’re glad you’re here!