This is my guilty secret:
I was never planning to live in Israel. Never. It just wasn't something I even considered.
My big plan was to live in South Africa in a nice, big house with a nice big pool and a maid and a garden (and a gardener) down the road from my incredible parents and my big warm happy close family.
It's weird when I think about it. My parents are both very Zionistic, they adore Israel and they visit all the time. I was educated at religious schools, including a Chabad school where I spent 5 years and a charedi school where I spent 6 years (more on that, another day).
And obviously, Israel is very central to Jewish thought, belief and religion. Every day, in bentching and davening, we mention it and daven for it numerous times.
But I seem to have somehow missed that, because living in Israel just wasn't even a thought.
In fact, my grand plan included an annual visit to Israel for Sukkot (as all self-respecting ex-pats do.)
One night, my grand plan was in for quite a rude surprise.
We were held up an gunpoint in our nice, big house in Johannesburg, while my one year old slept in his crib.
The intruders tied us up, and then they cut the wires of our satellite TV and radio and video machine (yes, it was a LONG time ago) with our challah knife, demanded money and designer shoes. and they happily loaded up our car with our loot and drove off.
And of course, like all good South Africans say after they experience violent crime, we said, "Wow. Thank G-d. That could have been sooooo much worse." And I thought that was the end of that.
BUT ––– A year later, we were on our way to Beit Shemesh.
Look, I'm not going to lie and tell you it's been a bed of roses. It hasn't.
It took me many years to come to terms that some of my favorite people in this big wide world of ours live a 12 hour flight away (and did I mention the price of airline tickets?) I *still* struggle with this and I miss them every day. And I visit as often as i can, which is hardly ever.
Not to mention learning to do things I had never ever done (and never wanted to) like cleaning toilets and washing floors.
And getting used to a very different culture, where everyone is a sabra (prickly pear). So if you annoy Israelis, out come the prickly spikes and boy do they sting. But underneath that, there's a warm, mooshy interior filled with love and care. You just need to get past the spikes first, which, for a sensitive South African, is not as easy as it sounds.
And besides the cultural gap, there's the issue of language. From the moment I open my mouth with my inauthentic accent and my incorrect reish, I am immediately classified as an outsider, someone who doesn’t really ‘get it’. And though I speak a decent Hebrew, it’s not my mother-tongue replete with my particular sarcastic humor and personal nuanced language.
It's definitely the hardest thing I have ever done, but I am endlessly grateful for the privilege of living in G-d's chosen land. It's still surreal after nearly 17 years. As time passes and especially since the terrible tragedies of October 7th, 2023, I grow more grateful for the privilege of living here every single day.
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