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Today is Shabbat, and my activity on this holy day of rest has comprised of lying in my sweat-ridden bed, listening to a strange mishmash (مشمش, משמש, mishmish anyone?) of Lorde and Ofra Haza, and reading Jane Eyre. As the buses stop running on Shabbat, in combination with the 100-degree heat, I have ventured out of the apartment today only to take out the trash and eavesdrop on my neighbors.

The above picture was taken from my room in the Mercaz Klitah, or the Immigrant Absorption Center in Be’er Sheva, a part of the Jewish Agency for Israel.

My neighbors are all recent olim, new immigrants to Israel. Most are Yemeni Jews, straight out of Frederic Brenner’s Diaspora. The women wear black abayas, some niqabs, and sometimes complete with green Crocs – visible beginnings of Israeli assimilation. The men don black pants, white shirts, tzitzit, thick peyot, and black velvet kippot atop closely cropped hair.

From Frederic Brenner's Diaspora, a
Yemeni Jewish woman

The first day, leaving the apartment to buy bed sheets and groceries, I noticed an elderly Yemeni man perched on a chair, overlooking the balcony. His dark skin contrasted with his long, bright white beard, which reached his knees. Five hours later, my roommates and I returned; he was still perched on the chair in the same exact position.

“Smells like my grandmother’s kitchen,” sighed one of my roommates, the first night. Her family had immigrated to Israel from Tunisia, and later Canada. Indeed, wafts of rich spices envelop our apartment morning and night, and I am amazed; our kitchen consists of only a refrigerator and a plug-in stove. There is no air conditioning. Yet the women cook full, hot meals daily.

This morning I awoke to singing, chanting in addition to the usual aroma of Yemeni food. It seemed more like Hebrew than Arabic, but it was no Carlebach melody I had ever encountered. Climbing on the kitchen counter, I stuck my head out the window and looked down. I understood nothing; I had read that not only is Yemeni Hebrew different from Israeli Hebrew, but also they speak Judeo-Yemeni Arabic, dissimilar to traditional dialects of Yemeni Arabic.

Tomorrow, my roommates and I meet with the Be’er Sheva Magen David Adom station’s coordinator; we begin volunteering on the ambulances Monday.

Other observations about Be’er Sheva:

This city’s population is about 200,000, and has way more malls than a city should. It recently opened a massive, American-style mall, dryly referred to as Grand Kenyon. Grand Kenyon consists of five floors, a train that runs throughout the mall, and fake grass and fake rocks to adorn a fake front garden.

It’s too hot to do much outside in the summer. Yesterday I went to a park, with real grass and trees, that was completely empty except two Russian women. I asked them if they were normally more people in the winter; one of them responded that she didn’t care, because she had moved to the desert for a reason.

Until next time.