Why, indeed, am I here?

Recently, WestBankMama asked me to participate in her collage of blogger memoirs documenting the process behind their immigration to Israel - please find my “tuppence” herewith...

So I have many memories of visiting Israel as a child- summer holidays in seaside hotels full of snotty English people, Mitzli Mango, a terrible hospital spell, a fantastic slide park in Netanya. When a significant chunk of my family immigrated in '86, I spent even more time here. But while Israel had become their home, even at an early age I was determined that it would never be mine: I complained to anyone who would listen (sorry, Aunty J!) that it was too hot, filthy dirty and full of rude and noisy people. Indeed, it held zero attractions beyond seeing my cousins and the incredible excitement of Kosher Pizza Hut and Burger Ranch. (You may laugh, but in the late 80's, that dismal chain was a veritable Mecca to someone from somewhere with no Kosher restaurants. And in gratitude, I still partake of their Spanish Burger on very rare occasion.)

So I think we can all agree that the dichotomous combination of antipathy towards the smelly country and love of kosher junk food rendered me ripe for the subsequent Brainwashing inflicted upon me by the Zionist Youth Movement my parents dispatched me to on Saturday afternoons. Yes, that one: the one with by far and away the best track record of persuading teens and young adults to abandon the places of their birth and stake their claim to the Land of Israel (I like to think I wouldn’t have fallen for any smaller potatoes.) The month-long post GCSE trip to Israel with this proven machine at 16 set the motions in place to make me think that I might actually want to spend a year in the Old City of Jerusalem and on Kibbutz at age 18 on a structured study-volunteering program, rather than choose to worthily cavort around Bosnia, Bolivia or Botswana building dams, digging wells or whatever all the cool kids were doing.

I won’t discuss the actual year-long program, except to say that it did exactly what it said on the tin: over 70% of us have moved here since! Without a doubt, it left me feeling tied to the land in a very emotional, experiential, angsty and passionate manner. (Although find me a 19-year old Tori Amos fan who doesn’t use the above words to describe her daily life, and I’ll give you a prize) But to my mind, Israel was clearly the only place to be: Oslo was just beginning - at the time, that seemed like the biggest disaster in the world- I couldn't fathom why the Evil Government was planning to part with even a centimeter of our holy soil to placate the "enemy." Via the in-no-way Right Wing programming, I got to hang out in places and spaces that Jameel might not even know about. So great was my desire to become a permanent fixture on the holy landscape, I decided to enroll in university here and forgo my place at a red-of-brick UK institution.

Ah me- this story might have had another ending altogether but for my abject dislike of mathematics (necessary for the Israeli University Psychometric Exams) which led me to decide that it would in fact be a better plan to pop back temporarily to England and get a degree which didn't require any such torture. Indeed, this blog might have looked quite different- it could well have been written from a caravan on a remote West Bank hilltop of questionable international legal status, with me typing away furiously, pushing back my (orange) headscarf and long sleeves, sneaking in bites of Kosher Pizza between posts, while lots of little Parrot spawn, all bearing names reflecting my passion for the Land, the Torah and Jewish heritage, scampered around my feet.

Ah, not me! (Well, except maybe for the Pizza part)

I would like to note for the record that the transition from young, idealistic firebrand Land-Of-Israel warrior to world-weary, cynical Human Rights activist didn't happen overnight, rather, it took a good few years. Years of becoming open to ideas which had formerly seemed unthinkable, discovering to my dismay the huge holes in the narratives about our history and heritage I'd been fed since childhood, and moving on and away from any form of one-sided rhetoric. This process obviously gathered momentum once I immigrated to Israel and could reappraise my surroundings with new eyes, but I almost didn’t actually make it: Suffice to say that once I'd finished university in the UK and found myself preparing for the move I'd always told myself I would make, I did not actually know why I was making it anymore- none of my motivations for moving to Israel were any longer valid (the Kosher Pizza was the notable exception) and my future looked as bright in England as anywhere else. Yet I felt that while I was still able to, I should give it a try, safe in the knowledge that there was still lots for me to learn about Israeli society and the region overall...

That said, my first few months were pretty standard: When we had to go around the Absorption Center classroom describing our motivations for immigration in hesitant Hebrew, obviously I got a few raised eyebrows when I said "Pizza"- my answer didn't quite capture the same spirit of "anti-Semitism in my country", "achieving my Zionist Dream", "I want to serve in the army of Israel" and "I want to raise my family Jewish" etc etc. Small wonder I wasn’t much of a poster child for “Aliya” unlike some other bloggers I could mention! (evil grin)

Ok, so I know that this is supposed to be a "how did you get here" MEME of sorts. But while my answer to that question doesn’t get any more formulaic and boring than “graduate of Zionist Youth Movement”, I feel it is important to stress that the reasons I have remained here are wholly unrelated to any of the reasons I arrived, and crucially are light years away from the education I received -and was so open to- as a teen. Indeed, the Israel presented to me in my formative years: a promised homeland just for the Jews, where social problems are at a comfortable minimum, and the few unsophisticated “Arabs” who live here at our good grace are either shepherds, merchants or terrorists- bears almost no resemblance whatsoever to the place I inhabit today. Granted, this realisation wasn’t an easy or speedy one to reach, and as I have ranted previously, makes for an increasingly isolating and depressing position at times. And one that certainly will not score me any Zionism points with my former youth movement!

Finally, to discover that “Zionism” was a dirty word to so many people was a terrible, almost soul-destroying blow- and further, I never imagined in my wildest dreams that one day it might also seem like a dirty word to me in certain instances. Yet before you all cry out "Traitor!" let me assure you that deconstructing my idols has in fact served to strengthen my identity as both a Jew and as an Israeli, in a way which I feel is more honest and reflective of reality than any of the ideology pumped from all angles by youth movements, educators and emissaries. Overall, I remain both satisfied that I made the move and grateful for all the experiences I've had since which have shaped me. So despite all the rants you may have heard over my blogging life as to this stupid, pathetic, unpleasant country full of (and led by) stupid, pathetic and unpleasant people, or mournful cries for Chocolate, Channel 4 or Crumpets, rest assured that I ain't going anywhere until I've done my utmost to sort our messes out once and for all.