|
|
Goldie: We’re still "home free" [without residence, electively for the joy of it] and hence on the road again, this time driving Humphrey (note pun please) our new deep blue Grand Caravan mini van. Barry: We’re in Northern Virginia, outside of Washington, DC, en route to Cape Town, South Africa. Goldie’s geographically diverse teaching schedule continues to offer us a chance to savor a tapestry of people and places. Goldie: And Barry’s research leads us into nooks and crannies of history and culture along the way much like butter melts into an English muffin. While in my foreground is writing against some editorial deadlines and preparing to teach an upcoming Rosh Chodesh retreat in Greensboro, NC, in my background is Norton’s Utilities running a virus check. We began in Washington, DC, allocating our one free day to the National Gallery of Art, touring the east and the west wings. Regulars at NYC’s Metropolitan Museum of Art we still found ourselves agape at the classical treasures and exceptional examples of contemporary work, all donated, on display here. Barry: The tour turned more unique while standing before a huge black and white abstract painting described as created by someone who threw paint at it and punctured it randomly. Hearing this, a young woman burst out at the guide in anger: "I was a dancer, for twenty years I labored to learn and perfect my art and we never made this kind of money. Where’s the appreciation of art when so much money goes to someone who throw throws paint on a canvas?" While the guide tried to shift her perspective, what I heard was the lament of an undervalued profession. When our priorities are to spend huge amounts on litigation and insurance, supporting over one million lawyers, how much is left over for the arts in general?. Which could also be seen as the lament of an American physician who sees our values as a society being distorted. Goldie: I learned that she teaches dance to disabled youth. We paused before a gigantic fractal-based portrait done by Chuck Close, who happens to be a paraplegic. Museums are like Torah study, there is something waiting for you, sometimes deep in the intersection of text and life. My moment would come later. In the1930's millions of Americans were unemployed. A Public Works Administration was established to turn the coffers of the US treasury into subsidized work. Among many profession-specific projects, unemployed artists were commissioned to copy the images of American folk arts that were on government repository as historical treasures. We came upon a display of some of this beside the paintings intended to preserve them in memory. The artists renderings seem to be impossible in their precision, beauty and ability to capture the items they represent. A water color of a crewel needle point even captured the prick of the needle on the fabric and the waving lines of the underlying linen, the velvet edging appeared plush and even an area which had been pushed the wrong way was recorded. I felt awe and sadness. Imagine! What if these artists had been supported as free spirits and not constrained to do copy work. And yet, the decaying objects beside them did not retain enough of their original patina and form (decaying wicker and rusting metals abounded in what remains of the originals), so the paintings really tell the glory of each craft. The economic tragedy also left a positive outcome. Inspiring! Barry: To some extent what constitutes a blessing and a curse, versus a curse, is our interpretation of the event. In these economic hard times, having unemployed people can be turned into a blessing if there’s wisdom enough to offer meaningful employment to those who need it. I’m currently writing a book on health care issues which has me thinking that the despair that many now feel can be a stimulus to reforms that are long, long overdue. Tapestry continued as a theme in our arts adventure as we turned toward the exhibit on trompe l’oieil. Going back to 400 B.C.E artists have tried to paint so realistically that it fooled the eye. A bunch of grapes is a common theme as is dust or a fly that seems to have settled into the painting but is really part of it. It’s magical. National Geographic, when reproducing one of the paintings, actually removed the fly thinking it was in the photograph, never dreaming it was really part of the painting. Goldie: Barry’s daughter Juliette is receiving wide acclaim for her work as a classical realist which sometimes incorporates this technique.(www.aristidesarts.com) My sense of this genre was greatly shifted when I almost walked past a white sheet draped over what appeared to be a the outline of a dark brown wooden grandfather clock. Barry pointed out this was an actual art installation, not a clock in storage. The sheet and clock were carved out of the same piece of wood - the white fabric was a physical illusion. Barry: Somehow Judaism appears when least expected. Our attention was arrested by the words "Zim Zum" written in chalk on a gigantic textured lead, mud, mottled brown and grey crackled painting at the end of our afternoon tour. Goldie: Kiefer, a Germany-born artist, was born in 1945 and this is a1990 work. The guide described it as something from Kabballah that refers to creation and destruction. Simultaneously Barry and I exclaimed: "Tzim Tzum!" This Kabbalistic notion of the contraction of G*d that led to the bursting forth of light and shattering of vessels, a powerful shattering of all that was that led to all that is. Barry: The marriage between blessing and curse is played out in this painting which reflects in the interdependence of destruction and creation. Goldie: Our DC hosts were deep and delightful Robin and Jeff Bub, cousins of Barry. Robin and I went at it over middle east politics until our underlying frustration, sadness and impotence united us in spirit. Jeff is a professor of the philosophy of science. Often I reach for physics or science fiction to stretch past the limitations of mysticism. By that I mean the problem of unio mystica, which leads to an assumption proven wrong in every generation, that such mystical or meditative practices breed peace. Those who have been near the epicenter of religious institutions - whether contemplative or administrative know they are rife with politics, not unity. But doesn’t physics support the assumption of universal coherence? We learned, no, a split of opinion about this has emerged about whether that wholeness is available within the physics of our universe. In our conversations Jeff took us to the limits of knowledge. His specialty is quantum mechanics and more recently an argument between Bohr and Einstein that he seems to have put to rest in favor of Bohr. There are complexities of behavior in our universe called entanglements that, if I understood him, led Einstein to feel there were missing chunks in his elegant theories. Jeff suggests these entanglements are not the stuff of missing theory, rather they are important resources/information/limitations available within our physical universe. Ultimately these may account for limitations which belie the possibility of achieving on our plane of being the unity we believe to be possible. In some ways this too is anticipated in Jewish mysticism, which postulates Elohim as referring to the way "G*d" manifests in this physical world as different from Ein Sof, the infinite possible beyond the limitations of our ability to back up to see the Big Picture beyond our universe. Barry: We’re heading for Johnson City, Tennessee, a long ride, how to break it up? Stepping back a hundred years, we took a tour of the Woodrow Wilson birthplace in Staunton, Va., a charming town that escaped damage from the Civil War. Neither of us knew much about him. Aside from lots of helpful history, here we learned four new/old facts: The word "range" as used for a kitchen stove, refers to a new-fangled iron invention that provided various compartments at different temperatures, hence offering a "range" of options. Next, a "rolling pin bed" had a circular wooden rolling pin sitting atop the headboard so that one could smooth out the feather bed. Third, hair was saved from hair brushes in a slotted china dish to be used for making braided jewelry; also the hair of one deceased was braided into jewelry to be worn while mourning. Finally, you know how some chairs are built quite low to the ground? This was because with the stoves, fireplaces and kerosene lamps the rooms were smoky and by sitting low one could access more oxygen. Goldie: It’s been a good long ride. In addition to this posting I’m busy placed finishing touches onto a recent project, a "Spiritually Alive Jewish Funeral and Mourning Guide". Blessings to all for safety and increasing peace in our
times. Goldie: Some say that G*d’s representative at the gate to the world to come will ask the multi-taskers: "So you’ve made many mitzvahs, but did you see My Alps? We’ll, we’ve reached the mountains of Tennessee, where mountain folk still make their lively, passionate music and crosses grow like cedars of Lebanon. We’ll be meeting with medical, rabbinic and cantorial colleagues settled quietly here-bouts like precious low profile orchids, as well as taking a long tall sip of local culture. Barry: Like learning to enjoy beer by visiting pubs in Great Britain almost daily for 3weeks, I’m taking a similar immersion approach to the south and country music which I passionately dislike. Goldie: After Kabbalat services at the converted plantation mansion that houses Rabbi Brian Nevins-Goldman’s congregation in the Appalachian town of Blountville, TN we slipped around the corner to a bluegrass jam session. It proved to be a log cabin crammed with about a dozen folks pickin’ an’ strummin’ an’ singin’ and soon they invited our hosts’ daughter Corianna, age 3, to dance in the center til even the grimmest grinch among ‘em was grin’n an’ hoot’n. I’ve begun studying a huge tome on the musical notation known as Torah trope shown to me by Chazzan Neil Schwartz, my study partner from when we lived in Reading, PA, who with his wife Katie and delightful children are our hosts in Chattanooga. Taught to me by rote in rabbinical school, I’ve become fascinated by the nuances of meaning trope actually makes possible. So, doesn’t that make one wonder about nuances in country music? Nashville, the $34 million Country Music Hall of Fame provided fascinating answers in a high-tech museum environment, which in itself is worth experiencing for the new technology. Barry: Country-western reflects the history of America, starting with fiddle music brought over from the British Empire, combined with gospel, jazz, soul, African music brought over by slaves, the history of the depression, the poverty of Appalachia, the beginning of radio and the phonograph industry, then television shows, Elvis, rock and roll influences, a huge dose of patriotism, the good guy/bad guy singing cow boy. This we learned touring the Country Music Hall of Fame here in Nashville. I am definitely warming up to this music. Goldie: The next night our country music education was exponentially expanded at the Barter Theater’s new play about the life of the Carter family who started the whole country western blue grass explosion in popularity. The family’s matriarch Sarah brought the plaintive sound of rural women’s experience with the perils of partners, pregnancies and poverty into the Country Western Hall of Fame. No longer pre-minstral, lately new chants have been being born in my spirit. What chants don’t provide is lyrics. We are surrounded by the laments and laudatory verses of country music. Like olives, I’ve grown to like the taste and realize there are product quality differences between the good stuff played down here and the more commercial pieces that hit the airwaves in the northeast. Poignant to hear pieces written when the first space shuttle crashed, now, pardon the expression, resurrected for the tragedy’s return. Barry: True to its name, the Barter Theatre was founded during the Depression by a starving young NYC actor. He contrasted New York’s legions of out-of-work actors with the abundance of food, but no live theater in his native Southeast Virginia. He returned home with the proposition of trading "hams for Hamlet." The price of admission was 40 cents or the equivalent in produce. The first season ended with the staff’s collective weight gain of 300 pounds. Play rights accepting meat for barter included Noel Coward, Tennessee Williams, and Thornton Wilder. George Bernard Shaw, a vegetarian, required spinach. This theater has spawned great actors, such as Gregory Peck, Patricia O’Neil, Ernest Borgnine, and Kevin Spacey. In our previous posting we noted how watercolor artists were employed during the depression to paint American treasures. Here too was a creation solution to the problem of unemployed actors that has ended up benefitting generations. Today, America has many physicians quitting because of work that is often meaningless and stressful. There are areas in the world that are desperate for physicians and offer the opportunity for meaningful work. What if we arranged a shidduch? Goldie: While lost on Nashville’s Bellemead (beautiful meadow) Avenue, looking for its namesake plantation, we called to inquire about better directions. "Where are you?" Beside a white church with an inspiring steeple. "That’s not actually very helpful," she says, "this is the bible belt." True, churches are everywhere. So difficult to contrast what religion has fostered with what it claims. On the Bellemead plantation were 136 slaves. It’s Civil War owner gaves $500,000 to the Confederate cause. In this face of his affluence the slaves lived a thread-bare existence. Chattanooga (population 250,000) has 1000 churches 3 synagogues, and 3 Messianic "Jewish" congregations. My favorite so far is "Shekina Church" known for the passing around of snakes during services and the ability of the pastor and congregants to speak in tongues. The Ten Commandments can be found cast as preferred lawn ornaments and religious slogans are as profuse as graffiti. Unlike in NYC where therapists are so populous they have each other as clients, here we pass none, because, if you dial 888-NEED-HIM you’ll find that Jesus has replaced therapy. During the long drives I’ve begun writing an academic paper on "Principles of Neo-hassidic Rebbetude"my title for the topic requested for the upcoming conference on Neo-hassidism in NYC at the end of March. Does the term neo-hassidic fit this peripatetic rabbinic? Once, on a flight to the Ukraine I was the only person not wearing a blue and white tee shirt with a Russian slogan. Inquiring of my seat mate as to its meaning, he reported: "Jesus will make you rich." Noting my kippah, he asked the reason for my visit. "Teaching bible." "You are a Jewish evangelist! Go figure. Pleased to meet you sister." "No, not an evangelist." I insisted. "What’s the difference?" He asked. My response: "I was invited." Barry: In contrast to the high profile of the churches is the low profile of the synagogues. Right now we’re visiting Hazzan Neil and Katie Schwartz and family in Chattanooga. From them we learn of the closeness of the Jewish community. Our visit to Jonesboro, the oldest town in Tennessee revealed it to be almost European with its narrow streets and superbly preserved buildings of total charm, best known for hosting the International Storytellers annual gathering. On the way here we also stopped for a planned visit with Rabbi Rami Shapiro who currently lives in Murphreesboro, TN, Rami was out but we had fun in the one square block down town of this county seat eating in its "City Café" where a fellow identifying himself as "one of the town fathers" introduced us to fried okra and buttered apples. While a battle to put the ten commandments on a court house was lost elsewhere in Tennessee, here, a bible encased in glass adorns the yard of the courthouse. It’s bizarre that they can’t seem to remember the 10 commandments, they need reminders all over the place. Talking to locals, perhaps this is not misplaced. Despite all the hype, domestic violence, adultery, incest are by no means rare. Goldie: Then on to Lords’ Landing Kosher B&B on a former cotton farm with a landing strip for the proprietor’s husband’s plane. It is literally in the middle of nowhere, beside two rural unincorporated towns. It seems we were to be their last guests, the proprietors are about to make aliyah after one returned to Judaism from a lengthy stay (since age 12) in Christian fundamentalism and her husband is now studying to join her and the children in an observant Jewish life. Barry: It had been suggested to us that we visit this b and b. I’ve learned to see people as messengers, when they give us recommendations we try to follow-through, trusting in the outcome. Rarely has it not turned out to be a very positive experience. Each place it seems there’s an important conversation to have, a seed to plant or to carry on to the next community. We seem to have a pattern, teenage children are clearly engrossed by Goldie and her teaching. I find myself absorbed by the two or three year olds Today, with Cantor Neil as our guide, we visited local tourist sites in Chattanooga. Suddenly, my attention was grabbed by a sign: The International Towing and Recovery Museum. Neil expressed disbelief that we’d want to see this but for us this is just the idiosyncratic thing that gives meaning to being on the road.. Museum was closed, but a kind woman let us in and even gave us a tour. My attention was caught once again. A full-sized map of South Africa (our next destination) Apparently the largest truck recovery was on a highway north of Cape Town. They even had the newspaper article in Afrikaans which I translated. Many in SA drive without licences, brakes, lights and they have a huge death toll on the road. I told the curator we would be there next week. Her response was that she would pray for us. You gotta love travel.
Kaddishes became portals where we tugged on the silver cord that connects
souls through "Emet," shared truth. I believe I learned from Aryeh Kaplan
that in the Hebrew word for truth, "emet" the letter aleph represents ones
past, the "mem" is for being in the present, and the "taf" is the future.
One of the goals of a retreat is to be fully in the present. We did
a ritual in the mikveh [a heated pool in this case] to help us honor what
of our preoccupations needed to be set aside so that we could "shavat
va'yeenafash", rest, resoul and ultimately return home renewed. Posting #4 South Africa Goldie; “Let us give thanks to Alamo and National Car Rental for the use their vehicles,” was the fitting final announcement of the shuttle bus driver in Atlanta at the end of our explore in bible belt country. Barry: Because of a flurry of last minute administrative details, we never got to MLK national monument; we did see some of his memorabilia at the Atlanta airport. What struck me in analyzing his hand writing was the intense philosophical/spiritual interest exhibited by his high upper loops, very strong determination by his downward strokes, and minimal interest in the mundane everyday, as shown in the tiny middle section of his letters. Goldie: Witnessing Barry returning to the land of his birth, his inhaling the sea air and taking in the oceanic blue sky. He’s like a penguin returning to its habitat, slipping easily into the local language, Afrikans and looks healthier almost immediately. What jumps out first is Cape Town’s multi-national character. In the 1600’s slaves were brought here from Malaysia, India, and Madagascar and the eventual combination of their characteristics with the tribes here and the Dutch, British, and Jewish have resulted in a rainbow of beings and experiences. It takes some getting used to people who are neither a pure African tribal jet black or golden Malay or white calling themselves “colored.” While English is the language uniting everyone these days, some 60 languages are recognized as official tongues here. Afrikans, created by the White former Afrikaner regime is widely spoken by colored folks and the older generation of whites. Street signs are in both languages. In phraseology it is colorful like Yiddishism can be. A few simple words in transliteration are:
Dorp Town Bye ah khoot Very Good Dunkee Thanks Stad City Strand Beach
Profuse wild life and magnificent gardens, even in and near the city are presents embedded in daily life. Walking by the harbor enroute to a shiur (Torah study session) we saw a mother and baby whales blowing water high in the air off the coast. While swimming among cereulean blue waters and towering boulders in Simonstown one is greeted by scores of Jackass Penguins which nest there. During our visit to Cousin Debbie in Kommikie a baboon lounged atop her fence, having earlier leapt to the porch to rattle her window bars in hopes of raiding her cupboards, again. If I were to create a palate to paint the “sense of this place” it would include the coastal wildlife and turquoise waters of Monterey, USA The fertility of farms and foods of Provence, France, The inlets, lagoons and mountains of Vancouver, Canada the gardens of Martha’s Vineyard, USA, and the luxurious terraced buildings, affluence and vistas of Nice, France. WITH one massive exception, pandemic, violent crime. Barry: Despite the presence of family, blue skies, warm climate, great beaches, favorable rate of exchange, inexpensive good restaurants (a fine bottle of wine is about $6 – total bill for two in an excellent restaurant inclusive of tip and taxes perhaps $25.00), I’m finding myself somewhat uncomfortable. Why? I ask myself. What emerges for me is a mix of confusion, disorientation, anger and sadness. It is difficult to orient to this environment – to feel grounded and clear. That the Cape Times headlines screams in huge letters: “Dagga in PM Compound,” i.e. marijuana found growing at President Mebeke’s palace, the equivalent of our White House feels normal. This is Africa after all, the continent where the weird is normal and the normal weird. Last year, despite “security”, vagrants were found living in a house on the presidential compound as well. Reported in the news today: Winnie Mandela (believed by many to be a murderess and corrupt – the opposite of her ex-husband), has volunteered to act as a human shield person in Iraq, much to the delight of many people who want to see the end of her. Also reported today: 45 children were packed into a minivan taxi. The driver was arrested. Later in the day, cops stopped the same taxi and 36 children were found in it. The driver ran away. Goldie: Unlike when I visit the former Soviet Union, some of the infrastructure here – roads , buildings, homes, waterfront is superb, but behavior can be something else. Barry: Driving on the beachfront a black man darted between the cars and collided with mine with a loud thud. By some miracle the almost invisible police were driving in the opposite direction and stopped. The man lying on the ground said: “Ek was verkeerd” meaning, he declared himself in the wrong. The cops said I could go. Just as I was leaving, his friend came running and asked if I would give him 10 rand i.e. $1 to make his injured buddy feel better. I gave him 20 for his honesty. All this feels normal. On the other hand, The Cape Town that I knew is changing. Races seem to be very much at ease with one another. Blacks and Coloreds are better dressed. The city seems clean. Tourism is booming – this is apparently the 4th favorite foreign destination of Americans. These changes are for the better, and I wonder if this is as close to paradise as it comes. On the other hand, this morning I met an old neighbor – someone I hadn’t seen in 40 years. Behind a mask of a fixed smile, she told me her husband had been murdered and the killers never found. Opposite my grandparents’ apartment, 9 men had had their necks slashed a few weeks ago. The two killers were caught (a rarity here) and motive was robbery. The newspaper reports that the crime rate has doubled in one year here in Sea Point and the police force is undermanned by 70%. This is the good news. Had the police force been fully staffed the crime rate would be even higher, since the police are reportedly involved in much of the crime. Goldie: The weather has been delightfully; unseasonably cool (70-85ish), for it is summer here in South Africa. On beach walks we need to trudge over huge pieces of kelp that have been pounded over the sea wall. Record waves cover beaches here in an unexpected surge of fascinating, roiling activity. A recent beach walk in open sandals yielded bugs and ooze squishing out of the kelp and resulting in a very squeamish tummy for this veteran naturalist. Flotillas of sacred ibis, white egrets and commorants descend to harvest tide pools. On walks I’m internally preparing a sequence of meditations and teachings on the presence of God as reflected in Jewish metaphors of rock and nature (One version will also be offered at Elat Chayyim Retreat Center and another at the Aleph Kallah in Bellingham, WA, this summer.) The backdrop of everything is the huge, impossibly flat-topped Table Mountain, a sacred site for tribal peoples and major tourist destination which I hope to ascend in weeks to come. The sight of literally thousands of seals during a boat trip the other day was enthralling. While scientists bemoan losses of wildlife in the northern pole of the planet, down here they are bemused by the return en masse of many species. Profusion is a major part of life here. The country still has open borders and the trickle down of folks seeking work, food and to sell drugs from further up in Africa threatens efforts at stability. Trucks wander the streets proclaiming “Ice for Africa” and T-shirts proliferated last week calling for “Treatment for Africa.” The government’s denial of the ability to treat and prevent AIDS is being fought by the people with widely advertised marches and appeals to parliament which is now in session. Here prostitution is legal. Child pornography is on the increase. AND, 200,000 marched for world peace in Johannesburg, the rape and murder capital of the world. AND, a number of folks here see America’s heading for Iraq as a colonialism aimed at taking their oil, a cabinet minister here is warning South Africa to take precautions against America coming here to steal the countries gems and minerals deposits. AT the same time, profound discomfort prevails at seeing France’s Chiraq invite the despot Mugabe to tea. AND, a few weeks before we arrived, Islamic fundamentalists marched the streets here bearing signs “Death to the Jews” AND the street where Barry’s mom lives and we are staying is lined with Nigerian mob drug dealers by night who sleep crumpled about the street by day or in a tenement at the top of the street owned by Israelis by day. AND next door to us is a new hotel that has a fleet of new Mercedes for its guests. Barry: The borders are open to any Africans regardless of background. Unlike New York City which declared zero tolerance on crime, this country with the highest incidence of car jackings, rapes, perhaps murder in the world, seems to have declared total tolerance on crime. In the past, the population introjected racial stereotyping as normal. This seems to have switched to accepting violence as normal. In a country with 50% unemployment, the labor laws are so strict, that everyone is afraid to hire. Goldie: The life of a maid here tells a corner of the story of the massive transitions underway in this country. Many live at a great distance from this town and stay in little maids’ rooms provided adjacent to or in the lower levels of apartment buildings. They go home on days off, or on occasion. With 50% unemployment in the country all jobs are coveted. (It’s now much harder for whites (as we’re called here) to get jobs and young cousins are struggling to find employment.) New legislation has its benefits, they’ve created minimum wages, requirements for employers to register their workers, to pay into the nation’s first unemployment insurance fund and there are now stringent limitations on hours worked and required breaks. The value of the local currency, the rand dropped to 12 (now 8) to the dollar (making it very inexpensive for us to be here, but to the locals a rand has the value impact of a dollar to an American.) So increasingly maids are finding themselves in the situation more usual in America, of having to string many employers together to create a fully worked week. This results in much harder and more concentrated work for some, in the sense that previously they had major intervals of down time when the folks they attend to were not at home. Unlike our visit here four years ago, the washing machine has finally become a widespread phenomenon in affluent homes, reducing the time a family needs someone on hand and becoming a mixed blessing for those in the service industry because what shrinks are hours of available paid work. It is customary when staying with someone or going to their house for dinner to give them a sum of money to cover their cost of the work of the maid on your behalf, sort of home-tipping. Such nuances take some getting used to. Barry: I met with Professor Tuvia Zavo, head of the Dept of Psychiatry at Groote Schuur Hospital, an eminent forensic psychiatrist who attended to the detainees at Robin Island in its day. He explained that much of the violence is from the Africans who have migrated into this country, which has open borders. Nigerians, Ruandans and others are given virtually automatic refugee status here. This makes no sense at all, given that many have AIDS virus, overwhelm the health care system and add to the unemployment and violence. We discussed physician well-being and impairment issues, while malpractice is not a problem over here, the massive AIDS epidemic is. Most of the seriously ill children are suffering from AIDS, and unlike in America, it is an automatic death sentence. (There is no treatment here. Where are the human rights protesters when we need them? Remember the rallies against apartheid?) Physicians are accidentally infected. Here interns have one year compulsory internship at a designated location about which they have no choice, followed by two years of mandatory community service in an underprivileged area; at neither local will they have appropriate supervision or support. Only following this can they enter a residency training program. A huge number of physicians elect to emigrate every year. In a country desperate for physicians, government policy encourages them to leave. Goldie: The hospitality and generosity of family here is exceptional, a sort of old-world flavor of each person taking care of the other based on their work and range of influence. Need pants or a car for a week? Uncle Jeff jumps in. An extra room for Barry’s son Jeremy who joined us at the last minute from Seattle? Aunt Helen and Uncle Ralph don’t hesitate to offer. A place to stay in the wine country when it’s booked solid? Uncle Ralph was visionary and with a friend had bought an olive farm there, the friend stayed in the business and within minutes of meeting us out on a walk organized for us to stay at his stunning new manor house on the farm. One of the top four exhilarating views in my life was had yesterday high atop his perch above the fertile wine region. So much so that an entirely new melody for L’cha Dodi came through the either into my heart and it seems to have a dance with it – zoomed right into hitgashmiut. Yum! My feelings were also boistered by a mouthful of the perfume-like hanapoot grapes and a bottle of exquisite local vintage Merlot. Goldie: In 1731 a poet named Pope wrote about “genius loci,” the genius of a place, its spirit and natural environment that, when respected, yield healthy living. In the town known as Stellenbosch we attended a local art exhibition on this theme. Among the works were several by a Jewish artist who painted portraits of her ancestors from old photos and frames them with tiny items they’d shlepped to this distant land to save the “spirit of the places” from which they had come. Thankfully we have email and freedom and are hopefully, helping to communicate the spirit of this place. I want to be here for awhile longer before writing about the Jewish community. It’s a complex scene of dwindling population and shifting allegiances. More when I feel more confident about what’s correct and ethical to say. Barry: Part of me lusts to live here, grow flowers and herbs and live the good life. Another part thinks this place is insane, without any rational policies. Perhaps, irrationality is the norm for most of the world and American problem solving is not accepted as making sense to others. Perhaps it’s time to give my left brain a vacation. Goldie: Ah sweet beloved, for that you
get a vote and not a veto. Shabbat begins here in an hour and we’re off to
the Marais Road Synagogue where the choir sings in four part barbershop
harmony with an infectious spirit. Goldie: In vast unique arid region of South Africa known as the Karoo, we have experienced awe at nature and the nature of change. The Shabbat before we set out on our trip up-country, my mother-in-law Leah set out, with a show of great pleasure, a home-made bottle of kosher Shabbos wine from Oudtshoorn - the taste and fragrance exceed any I’ve experienced before. It seems my husband’s family has a history of connection to this Karoo dorp (town) where it was made. How? In the late 1800's Jewish peddlers trickled down to Oudtshoorn from the towns of Keln and Shavli in Lithuania. Like darning needles their perambulations connected them with local products which they then hooked up with their return markets at home. In the arid, semi-desert, rural farming town they found something curious and easy to transport, ostrich feathers. Keln and Shavli were destroyed by the Nazis. Their traditions and lineages not only survived, but prospered among those transplanted to Oudtshoorn. It is a gem of a town, developed as the Dutch farmers (who became known as Afrikaners) learned Yiddish to communicate with the peddlers turned entrepreneur suppliers to the fashion industry, who in turn learned Dutch and English. At one point, through the whims of the fashion industry, ostrich feathers comprised 37% of the national agricultural product. The museum in the town reports that all residents gave freely and with pride to help with construction of a synagogue. A Lithuanian rabbi was brought who had trained in England. I hooted with unsurprised mirth upon learning that not three years after the rabbi arrived, a split occured in the congregation and a second synagogue began. The argument is described as the rabbi having been overly influenced by his time in England and so placing too much emphasis on how the pomp of ritual in services would be conducted, whereas the group that left wanted a greater focus on text study and law. Oudtshoorn became known as a "Little Jerusalem" and the homes of the feather barons are still termed "feather palaces," we stayed in one which is now a b&b, enjoying elegance which would cost upwards of $300 per night in the US, but only $70 here because of the value of the rand. The original synagogue contents are housed in the town’s museum, the second building is beautifully maintained and houses a small residual congregation. Barry: A country holds its breath is what the headlines in the Cape Times scream. It’s Monday. March 3rd and the Iraq crisis is building up to climax in the UN. I buy the newspaper and continue reading: "Coach Eric Simons has appealed for a heroic performance from South African cricketers........ Goldie:. It’s somewhere between balm for the soul and infuriating to have so little international news available in this country. I worry for family (3 sons between us within range of the draft), the world and the innocents caught between powers. And then we do the only reasonable thing, release, be in the moment, which is a really good idea because this is being typed as my step-son Jeremy carefully and competently drives us over the Swartberg Mountain pass. Barry: These mountains, about 6000 ft high, are older than the Alps and the Andes and we’re told, used to be three times their present height. Indeed, it was breathtaking (when I had the courage to open my eyes). The pass itself was built by prisoners over a century ago, and this unpaved road is unchanged since that time. Goldie: The geology is unlike any I’ve seen before, as though a burnt-orange, sienna and golden rock swirl soup was spun by giants through space, landing as mountain; beside the swirls, huge slabs stand up-ended thousands of feet tall. You know that windy street in San Francisco that tourists like to drive? Multiply it by 100 power and allow no guardrails, line it with an occasional forest of the national flower protea (one variety looks like cerise and peach feathers bundled around a cob core) to trick you into not looking at the road just long enough to......Jeremy’s driving was great, so why is my brake foot so sore from pressing into the floor? Barry: How do we find out the news in the adorable, Karoo (semi desert) town of Prince Albert? This place is like an oasis between oceans of semi-desert. We are told that newspapers arrive a day late so if we buy the paper tomorrow, we will have the paper we bought earlier today, which only talks about cricket anyway. Our b&b is on the town’s only significant street. They serve us tea and moist chocolate cake in the garden of a bright white Cape Dutch thatched home, some 160 years old. We are filled in on the owner’s perspective, for example that there is 70% unemployment here but very little crime because the unemployed are the Colored. By reputation and behavior, the preponderance of violent crime here is done by blacks. Goldie: The Cape Colored (the name they call themselves) are a distinct population numbering several million. They are light brown-skinned, speak Afrikaans, have their own culture and despite years of discrimination under Apartheid are generally positive, friendly and comfortable with whites even to the extent of voting for the former Afrikaner political party. Today in Prince Albert, is pay day, the government gives every unemployed citizen with a child under fifteen 150 rands per month; sadly most parents will convert this to alcohol before nightfall. The local business people run soup kitchens for the children. When we take a walk through town, at either end - shacks, or lovely homes, we find every one we pass making eye contact and greeting us politely. Barry: In the small towns people are very open and social. While having typical South African dinner at a local restaurant, the owner, a middle aged man who also serves us, kids Goldie about her hat. (Because she doesn’t have to worry about the sun, it’s night time. She explains to him that it’s a spiritual practice.) Then, as we hold hands to say a blessings for the meal he has just served us, he adds his hand to ours. At 9pm we have a date with Albert (the name is coincidental to the town.) He is an older man from the Netherlands who is waiting for us when we arrive at his home. For R50 each ($6.00) he is going to give us a two hour lesson on the night sky. Later he tells us about his life, how he became disillusioned at living in Holland after 30 years of teaching astronomy, math and model-making to vast numbers of vocational school students who weren’t interested in learning. So he dreamed a dream and lives it in this affordable, virtually rain/pollution-free environment where he now dabbles in astronomy research projects and teaches tourists astronomy. Goldie: The ancients called the night sky "the lace table cloth" and down here it is spectacular. Albert has taken the roof of his garage and put it on a track he can roll back with a long handle. Three professional telescopes acquired from California are back lit by starlight. He shows us Taurus, Orion, Gemini while pointing a laser pen effectively at the skies and explaining how the zodiac really does rotate in a plane like shown on astrology charts. Then we go to observe planets and triple stars through one of the scopes, and then deeper into space we learn of dark patches that are deep space dust clouds and view a spider nebula and more. While I never believed in astrology as a predictor for life, a dear friend has twice done my chart and been phenomenally accurate each time. Did you know that the sheheheyanu prayer comes from our association with astrology, it is meant to be said when the lunar month has a particular conjunction of celestial bodies that are auspicious for the qualities of the holiday. [So Passover, for example, is a "zman", "time" that is auspicious for attaining freedom.] Barry: As we are ready to leave, the talk turns to Iraq. Albert expresses his anger towards America, convinced that our aim is to steal Iraqi oil. He is unconvinced by our protests, until I suggest that we share a common desire for peace, and prosperity. Perhaps our disagreement is about the best way to achieve this in the world. He confesses he loves America and its ideals. It liberated his country after WW11. For this reason, he cares and is particularly disturbed, the one is when seeing a good friend making a serious mistake. Goldie: Peddlers turned feather barons are not the only mid-life career changers in this posting. Here in tiny Prince Albert the b&b owner was a children’s clothing manufacturer, successful, well-traveled and hated the politics of the industry. She blew off her big career, and four years ago picked this house out of a catalog. Her husband dropped his work as a business coach to partner the project and now they love their life and show it with full-hearted hosting. As we left they were popping an elderly English lady into a plush armchair set into the back of a flat bed truck in order to take her off to see a dam where black eagles breed. She appeared ecstatic at the prospect of the wild ride. Barry: At breakfast, Gary our host fills us in on the local healthcare politics (plenty.) Aids is the major concern though this area is not as affected as most. The government, he tells us, says there isn’t sufficient money to treat every one. When the minister of health was asked why SA is buying submarines, any one of which costs more that a year’s treatment for all the victims of this disease, she replied that one knows when the US might attack South Africa to capture its minerals and gems! Aids is a huge problem. The Cape Times reports that HIV-related deaths in the city will exceed all other causes by 2009. The life expectancy of the black population is to drop from 55 to 40 years. Still, President Mbecki jets around the world solving the major problems that are not in this country - like Iraq and Korea. A well- known local actor/playwright has suggested that Mbecki and his Minister of health be charged with crimes against humanity at the Hague for neglect of the Aids issues. This suggestion has received scant attention (cricket remember.) Goldie: On this break from Cape Town we also went up the forested region known as the "Garden Route" as far as the magnificent, huge land preserves which are the first of the great national parks for the preservation of wildlife. A huge tortoise mowed the lawn beside the hut were we stayed at the Addo Park, tiny twin white monkeys woke me twittering in the trees til their sizeable dad chased them to safer heights. Here live jackal, warthogs, four hundred elephants, and hartebeest , antelope, aardvark, owls and all manner of exotic birds live freely. At a water hole we watched two clearly differentiated elephant groupings elegantly take turns through the use of dominance rituals and also marveled as a baby elephant frolicked just like in a Disney characterization only to be unable to get back out of the water hole. Three huge females surrounded the little critter and cooperated to push and hoist him out without damage. Private conservation and animal rescue areas also abound and are equally fascinating to visit. This lap of our trip has been primarily vacation except for an intersection with students from a Johannesburg day school at national park, a place of crashing 30 foot waves, awesomely endowed with boulder-based trails for some challenging Jewish nature walks and in this environment, meditative sits. I was so struck by one students fear of camping out as he explained that he’s never before slept somewhere without bars coming down outside his bedroom door for protection, because even in affluent areas crime is so fearsome in Johannesburg. Our last stop was a teenie town in the Karoo that once was solely a tuberculosis sanitarium, now turned into a British-style hotel and maintained like a jewelry box that plays a tale of its time when opened. The porter escorted us through like royalty and gave an imitation of Mandela that sent Barry into paroxysms of laughter. What a country! Barry: Returning to South Africa after a four-year absence, I am surprised how well the infrastructure has held up. Roads and bridges are well maintained, gardens and parks are beautiful, public rest rooms are clean. Right now the rand has strengthened, there is a budget surplus, the price of gold is up and tourism is booming. One sees many upwardly mobile Blacks and Coloureds well dressed, driving nice cars, jogging, eating in restaurants - all unimaginable just a decade ago. There is much to be optimistic about. How to explain the blinding rural poverty, rows of shacks, inaction towards healthcare, violence and Zimbabwe - all serious pressing issues. Despite a committed democracy, independent judiciary, free press - corruption in government, such as bribes and favoritism is blatant. Unlike the USA, when the press finds ineptitude, corruption, bribery etc, politicians like Mbecki continue seemingly impervious and unfazed. Much that is irrational can be explained by drive for power and money. Like the Dutch astronomer and his feelings towards the USA, I find my frustration and criticism of this country based on my love of the place and a deep desire that some of its insanity evaporates in the African sun. Goldie: One correction to a prior posting, there are only 11 official languages here. And one final point noticed with interest, a tribe of the Karoo, the San, were asked to draw picture of humans. While shamans drew figures in lightening shapes and spirals, all others drew stick figures. The shamans explained this is the effect of trance, it allows one to more fully see the soul animating a being. Indeed. Blessings for to all, we are behind on reading your
responses and will catch up on them now that we’ve reached Cape Town with
fewer limitations on internet access.
Goldie: My sister-in-law Helen Bub's face gets that soft look that comes
over those recalling the day they stood in line for hours to vote in the
first election for the new government, nine years ago. Apartheid was over.
People from every strata of society stood in long lines together to vote.
"We voted not knowing if there would be a blood bath. Yet it was wonderful
that day." Taking a chance on peace, creating the imperfect yet functional
evolving country we've enjoyed so these few weeks.
Goldie: Rabbi Jack Steinhorn, about to become rabbi emeritus of Marais
Road congregation (he is a former head of Yeshivat haKotel in Jerusalem).
He has become a rebellious soul, often being censored by the Chief Rabbi
of South Africa for mattters like holding conversions with less than four
years preparation, or giving an aliyah to the Jewish half of an
intermarried couple. [You may wonder why we're not attending the liberal
congregation, this is in order to share shabbat with Barry's mom who walks
to shul.] Return to Main Menu |
