Straddling Black and White by Kim Salzman

Author:Kim Salzman [Salzman, Kim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Acorn Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Kebede—March 1985

Dear Tigy,

Yesterday in ulpan (you remember, right?—It means Hebrew class), we heard on the news about a horrible attack on Israeli soldiers. By the way, that’s something really amazing about Israel—every hour, everyone stops what they are doing to listen to the hourly radio broadcast. Anyway, apparently a terrorist drove a truck loaded with explosives into an Israeli tank in southern Lebanon. Twelve Israeli soldiers were killed. I remember thinking two things when I listened to the radio. First, I remember thinking how proud I was for being able to understand almost everything the broadcaster said in Hebrew. I know I shouldn’t have been thinking of myself at such a moment, but that’s what I felt. Second—I was angry. And I wasn’t just angry because so many young Israelis were killed for no reason by an enemy who doesn’t want us to exist. I felt angry over everything—angry at myself for having had too much to drink the night before (and the night before that), angry at you for not seeming to care when I left for Israel, angry at Solomon for not having yet arrived in Israel with Azmera, angry at Shifra for calling me Kfir, angry at the others in the absorption center for not trying hard enough to learn Hebrew, angry at myself for abandoning my family, angry at Israel for bringing me here and then treating me like I don’t belong, and last but certainly not least, angry at God for making me feel so angry at the world.

I’m having a hard time here, Tigy. Every night I sit in my room with my notebook and try to study what we learned that day in ulpan, but then I hear it. I hear the others sitting outside on the balcony chatting away, the alcohol having numbed their anger, erased all their worries and blurred all their memories, at least for the night. Some nights I manage to stay in my room. But other nights I go outside to join them. I never intend to have more than one drink. But then one of the guys offers me a shot of arak, and another shot, and another. Before I know it, I’m crawling my way back into bed and I have four hours to sleep before I must wake up for ulpan. Shifra, my teacher—I think she knows, but she hasn’t said anything to me about it. I think she pities me. I’ve never felt pitied in my entire life. I used to be a strong man. That’s what I was named for. That’s what my father raised me to be. People used to respect me. I don’t want you to come here because I know there’s no way you’ll want to be with me in the state I am. So, take this as my warning—Tigest, dear Tigest, Stay in Ethiopia. Stay far, far away from me. It’s for your own good.

Kebede

q

Kebede lay in bed with his tattered notebook in hand, wondering what Tigest would think if she were to receive the letter he had just wrote.

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