Israel by Fred Lawrence Feldman Page B

up?” He looked disappointed.
    â€œPositive,” Haim chuckled. “And these?” He held up several small green oval objects.
    â€œCome now, even in Russia they must have olives.”
    â€œWhat they had and what we had are two different things,” Haim said. “Olives I’ve never seen.”
    â€œYou’ll have your fill of them here, my friend,” Yol sighed.
    â€œYou really don’t like this food?”
    â€œWhat’s to like?” Yol made a face. “In Lublin my father was a baker and loved food.” His eyes went dreamy. “Ah, Haim, then we had what to eat—roast capons so tender they’d melt in your mouth. Flank steaks with tiny new potatoes cooked right in the pan with the meat. Fresh fish, and many kinds of cheese.” Yol’s bare, bony chest rose and fell in a massive sigh of resignation. “I’ve tried to get the halutzim to acknowledge the lack of anything decent to eat here, but they all consider fine food to be a sign of weakness.” He shook his head. “What’s the big deal over something good to eat?”
    Haim frowned. “Why did you come to Palestine?”
    Yol immediately was serious. “Now Haim, I make a joke or two, but when all is said and done, I am still a Jew, yes? Back in Lublin I got mixed up with the Friends of Zion, and through that group I joined the Zionist Workers. I helped forge passports for those who wished to emigrate. The Turks, as you’ve no doubt learned, don’t look too closely at the papers as long as they get their baksheesh.” When Haim nodded, Yol continued. “At first my clandestine work for the party was enough. I felt bold over it. It was the spice in my life”—he pointed at the remains of Haim’s breakfast—“like the za’atar . A little goes a long way, yes?”
    Haim agreed. “Then what happened? I mean, you’re here.”
    Yol shrugged. “One morning I woke up and knew it was time for me to come.”
    â€œYour mother and father stayed behind?”
    â€œYes. They had many reasons. The goyim who came to buy challah were our friends, my parents claimed. Things were going to get better, they swore. The Turks would never let the Jews stay in Palestine.” Yol frowned.“Words, that’s all. The reality was that my parents were too old to live anywhere but in Poland and I was too young to live anywhere but here.” He brightened. “So. You must tell me what has brought you to Jerusalem.”
    â€œTo cut stone,” Haim said. “I heard there was such work available.”
    â€œAbsolutely. Men are needed. I’ve come to do the same work, and you’ve reminded me that we are already late. The day starts at sunrise at the quarry.”
    â€œShouldn’t I find myself a room before beginning work? I don’t have much money, so the search may take a while.”
    â€œAll the more reason to stay with me. I have a room with board lined up, and it’s big enough for two. I’ve stayed there before. It’s a nice enough place, clean, at least.”
    Haim was hesitant. Solitude was still an enjoyable novelty to him. “Maybe I’ll find something on my own. I don’t intend to be in Jerusalem for very long.”
    â€œYou needn’t worry about having to pay my way,” Yol promised. “The Zionist Workers’ Party is paying me a subsidy, and in a fortnight we’ll receive our first stonecutter’s wages.”
    â€œWell—”
    â€œSuit yourself, my friend, but two sharing expenses can live a lot cheaper in Jerusalem.”
    Haim found himself laughing. “You remind me of someone when you talk like that.”
    â€œReally?” Yol asked, charmed. “Who? Tell me.”
    â€œCome on,” Haim smiled. He shouldered the smaller man’s heavy suitcase. “Take me to the quarries. We can’t be tardy on our first day