2003-08-08 Ibim, Israel—Profile
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2003-08-08 Ibim, Israel—Profile |
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By Donald H. Harrison IBIM, Israel—This village, Ibim, in the Sha'ar Hanegev region of Israel, serves as a temporary home for college students who recently have immigrated to this country. It is the best known, but not the only, project for student immigrants supported by the United Jewish Federation of San Diego County. In Or Haner, a nearby kibbutz populated mainly by Argentine Jews, the Celia Eisenberg Center for Diaspora Youth provides a home for Jewish high school students like 18-year-old Tomas O'Dwyer, who with his parents' permission left his home in Entre Rios, Argentina, two years ago to become an Israeli. A plaque affixed in 2002 explains that the center "was donated by Celia Eisenberg whose commitment to the people and the State of Israel lives forever through this vital center. A project of the United Jewish Federation of San Diego County and the Jewish Agency for Israel." Eisenberg, a San Diego County resident, had bequeathed several hundred thousand dollars to the UJF to be spent on projects in Israel. Whether the students are in high school or college, the challenges facing young Jewish immigrants are similar as they adjust to life in their spiritual homeland while continuing to pursue their studies. The first problem, of course, is learning the Hebrew language— a problem that Israel has had 55 years of experience in solving since it became an independent state in 1948. Israel's widely-admired solution is the ulpan, a program of total language immersion in which Hebrew is the only language permitted, save for pointing and other gestures that might be called sign language. With students coming from a wide variety of countries, speaking many different languages, no other solution is practical. Kasai Tadela, an Ethiopian Jew, recently told a visitor to Ibim that when he "made aliyah, everything was difficult. I didn¹t know Hebrew; I didn't understand the Israeli mentality. But with time I got used to it." Although there are a few words in his native Amharic that are the same as Hebrew — abba means "father" and eema is one of the words for "mother" — the languages essentially are quite different. Debora Shwarzman, an immigrée from Asuncion, Paraguay, said that, having lived for a year as an exchange student in Canada, she thought that life in Israel and learning a language would be similar. But, she said, the experiences were quite different. She had known some English before going to Canada; she knew no Hebrew. "I am learning it now." Idealistic about the lives ahead of them, the students tell similar stories about why they traveled to Israel — in many cases ahead of their parents. Kristina Ben Moyal, 19, of Belem, Brazil, explained "I am a Zionist; I came to live here," and said she wants to study biology at the Hebrew University after completing her preparatory work at Sha'ar Hanegev's nearby Sapir College. Unlike some of the other students who consider themselves to be advance parties for their family's immigration, Ben Moyal knows that her parents plan to remain in Brazil and that, except for possible visits, she has started a life on her own. Sebastian Skoplovsky of Uruguay, who has been in Israel nearly a half-year longer than the other students, serves as a counselor to newer arrivals like Ben Moyal. "It is very difficult to get used to living without a family, but the feeling that they have for Israel, the love of the country, helps them get used to it here and like it here more quickly than they would if they had gone somewhere else," he said. "I tell them that in my first five months here I made my family here. It is not a blood family, it is a family of Israelis. Even though this is not where I was born, it is our country. The army is our army, the university is our university. So that helps." In Ibim, students from various countries begin to mix with each other. Skoplovsky said he has learned a few words in Amharic, and demonstrated them to the delight of the Ethiopians. When the students hold a Latin-style dance, the Ethiopians and Russians are quick to join in. "I cannot say that we are all a family, but I would say in the six months we are getting together well," Skoplovsky said. Andargachao Smalin, an Ethiopian student who plans to serve in the Israel Defense Forces and then hopes to study at the Technion, agreed. "We are all going on the same bus to the same place to learn," he said. "We are all going to the same gym. We are all going to see the same soccer team. We are doing all these activities together." At Kibbutz Or Haner, O'Dwyer said he does not know if his parents ultimately will immigrate. But, he said, "I think this program is very special. It is not like you have to manage every problem. You are on a kibbutz with people who help you." He regularly speaks to his parents by telephone, and his mother has visited once. Still, he often feels homesick, not only for his family and friends, but for "the meat"—the thick steaks that Argentines love and which are a rarity in Israel, where diets tend to run towards salads, pita breads, hummus, tehina, tabouli and other Mediterranean favorites. Even though Argentines at Kibbutz Or Haner have started the Asador Catering Company, specializing in barbecues for large parties, this is for special events, not for every day dining. On the other hand, O'Dwyer said, he doesn¹t miss Argentina's failing economy and the fear people have about thieves and a lack of security. Economic worries beset some of the students, particularly the Ethiopians with whom I met. Being in their second year at Ibim, they are in different circumstances than the newer arrivals, who have a larger allowance. Elena Ataklat, who formerly lived in the Ethiopian capital of Addis Ababa, where she studied electronics, said the students are hard pressed to live on their budgets of 600 shekels a month, which is about $130. The allowance is established by Ibim's governing board, on which members of the United Jewish Federation of San Diego County sit. The UJF contributes $750,000 annually to Ibim's operating budget. Ataklat, smiling but determined, suggested that the good people from San Diego should reexamine the budget. To a chorus of agreement, she explained that even with the tightest of budgeting, $130 a month is not enough to cover food, transportation, entertainment, laundry and such over-the-counter medicines as aspirins and cold tablets. She suggested that the monthly allowance be increased to 1,000 shekels (about $230) to accommodate Israel's high cost of living. In some cases, students are able to pool their funds to make economies, she said, but it is not always possible. For example, she said, some Ethiopians like to eat their national spongy bread, injera, while others do not. So sharing groceries becomes a problem. Preparing one's own food was a culture shock for Tadela, who like many Ethiopian men grew up thinking that was "women¹s work." He reported that he now makes a pretty fair injera and also can whip up a pasta dish. Before the group interview in Ibim concluded, Ben Moyal had some thoughts she wanted to share with Americans, of both the Northern and Southern varieties. "When you say 'Israel' in South America, people say, 'oh it is very dangerous,'" she related. "When I said I was coming here, most of the people there thought I was crazy because of the news and everything. But if they really would come here, they would see that it is not like that, and this is a normal place. You can live here and be secure." Shwarzman agreed, saying about Americans: "Tell them to come and make aliyah." Said Skoplovsky: "I think you should all come to Israel to live and build the country, but if you don't want to live here, at least come and visit us. Show the world that people can come to Israel and be safe, and that we are a country that knows how to live— that even with the dangers we have a full life." |
