Part 19
Another inhabitant was Jim the Bricklayer, with a heart of gold, from England as well, and a tough mate in the Timna copper mines. That month we worked for a subcontractor. We rose at 5 o’clock and then hurried to the bus stop in Eilath. Seats were for the regular workers, we would drowsily hang off a loop while the bus tore for 23 kilometres, more beside than on the road.
To work then, with a clasp for 6 bricks in each hand. These had to be carried up 25 metres of stairs, where a chimney was being built. A number of them was already finished and in use. They emitted a fine haze of sulphur and every three days we needed to put on new old clothes, generously provided by the Company. And showering of course, long and thoroughly.
An amazing character and fellow-villager was Jim the Hermit. According to his own rare utterances he was a Gipsy, about 50 years old and a lifer on the road. He was of small stature, but very muscular. He kept himself very much to himself and was always working on his outfit.
Then there was Frank, Canadian and into booze, so he went into Eilath every evening. And when we, after an evening of blowing, singing, story-telling and reciting poetry, had just gone ‘horizontal’, a tiny distant bell would ring and Frank would be calling out: ‘Candyman, candyman!’ And then everyone would rise again and Frank would share the Halva he had brought, a sweet mixture of ground sesame seeds and honey.
Finally there was Lars, Swedish, rich, because he owned an old Volkswagen beetle, full of humour, gentle and very sympathetic. We used to tease him for not being able to say ‘jam jar’. He is the only one I saw again later when he visited me in Holland.
At the fireplace in front of the Teepee, a bucket was hanging in which everyone put his contribution of food. That could be anything as it all went into a dark hole. And in case it did not look enough, we waited until just before sundown and nicked onions and tomatoes from the kibbutz.
Jan Ploeg
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