Determination -- Struggle
	The Ongoing Dispute with the Settlement Institutions
	When I joined the group that was on Givat Naame, there were not very many of us. We expected to bring more chaverim up when work would start on digging the fish ponds. I was still the representative of the kibbutz, but my "base" moved from Benyamina to Naame. Most of my efforts were not devoted now to money, but to dealing with land and our future in Naame. From time to time I would get to Tel Aviv, or look in on Nachmani in his office in Tiberias. Natan Cohen took care of the financial matters of the kibbutz and would visit Naame regularly, and remain for a few days. Shaul, our mukhtar (under Turkish and British rule, the village head), had the honor of plowing the first 50 dunams of land which had been given us. Our first crop on this land was potatoes. As Dr. Mehr had promised, with the first hot days of summer came the malaria season. We all had fever; luckily, not all at the same time. The fever struck suddenly, the sick came down with very high fever, headaches and general weakness. The medicine was quinine pills. Sara Paltiel would take a blood sample from the sick person, send it to Kfar Giladi and the answer was returned by Morse; usually, Malaria! Our luck was that the type prevalent in the Huleh was Tropicana. This type is not fatal but weakens a person considerably. We swallowed the quinine and when the fever went down we returned to work, until the next attack, which came on schedule. In June, we sent several people back to Benyamina to recover some of their strength (only to recover, because they came back to Naame as soon as they could). We learned to live with the malaria, because we had no choice, and in time we paid the price. Some people were so weak that the doctor ordered us to send them to Ramat Rachel to recover. The air there in Jerusalem would help them regain their strength. The malaria left its mark on us, on our lifestyle, and on our future at Naame. One matter that encouraged us was that the JNF acquired another 1000 dunams (in addition to the original 500). We knew that Nachmani made efforts to procure more land. We believed that the JNF would, sooner or later, recognize our right to erect a permanent settlement at Naame, but we knew we would have to fight for that right. I traveled to Tel Aviv for my first meeting with Hartzfeld and Marshak, the heads of the Agricultural Department of the Histadrut, and we told them how we had taken the bold step of settling at Naame without the help of the Jewish institutions. We took this step with the hope of creating a permanent settlement at Naame. We described how things developed, from agreement with Shwartz and the leasing of the first fifty dunams, and the procurement of the one thousand dunams recently by the JNF. This area had been given to Kfar Giladi on a temporary basis. We asked that they support our demand to lease that land which was adjacent to ours, next to "Malaria Hill" at Naame. We were young and ardent, and I guess a bit theatrical along with our tenacity. They listened with great interest, and we felt, even with sympathy, although their reply was discreet: They would meet with Yosef Weitz and hear what his plans were regarding the Naame land. By the time we met again with Hartzfeld, there had been some interesting development. We learned that the JNF in the USA and some of the leaders of the "Poalei Zion" movement and other Jewish trade unions had the idea of commemorating the name of the great French socialist leader, a Jew and a strong supporter of Zionism, Leon Blum, by establishing a settlement in his name. Leon Blum, former Prime Minister of France, was at the time a prisoner in a Nazi concentration camp. Someone had the idea that the Anglo-Baltic kibbutz, which had members of Habonim from the United States, should be the one to establish this settlement. We received a telegram sent to Benyamina from Habonim, and asking us for our stand on this matter. I had met Hartzfeld at our first meeting before having come down with malaria, but by the time of our second meeting I had already had one bout of the fever and was worried that I was on the verge of another. I had the quinine ready, but slept well at the hotel that night and went to the meeting next day feeling okay. Hartzfeld's news was disappointing. "Weitz does not agree to leasing you the land at Naame, not even a part of it." What encouraged me somewhat, was that I felt that Hartzfeld himself did not feel comfortable with Weitz's decision, but did not want to express his disagreement in words. I told Hartzfeld about the initiative of the American branch of the JNF in connection with a settlement in the name of Leon Blum. "That is very, very interesting; be patient, you hold out at Naame and I will do what I can for you," he said. That was the Hartzfeld about whom we had heard so much. The name of Hartzfeld has come up several times in this story, but I had not intended to tell about the man, Hartzfeld, about whom younger generations of kibbutznikim know so little. He was short in stature, with a mop of gray hair, but brimming with energy, decisiveness and determination. He was the human motor behind the wave of kibbutz and moshav settlement all over the country. He was born in Ukraine, studied in Yeshivot and was ordained to be a Rabbi. He was active in the Socialist-Zionist Movement in Tsarist Russia and was exiled to Siberia. He escaped from Siberia and succceded in reaching Israel. He was an agricultural worker in Petach Tikva. When I first met him, he was already 50-plus and head of the Settlement Department of the Workers Agricultural Union (HaMerkaz HaHaklai, in Hebrew A.M.). So far as the Histadrut, The Zionist Organization or the Jewish Agency were concerned, Hartzfeld symbolized the flag carrier of Jewish Zionist settlement in its struggle against the limitations by the British Government. Harzfeld was also a member of the Directorate of the JNF, where he was one of those always inciting the JNF to do more and to dare more. He was one of the initiators of the "Wall and Tower" settlements. For all the kibbutzim and moshavim, Hartzfeld was the one they turned to for all the problems connected with their settlement. He was their protagonist against the bureaucracy and against all the departments where red tape stalled action. Whenever a new settlement went up anywhere in the country, Hartzfeld was there. He was enthusiastic and excited, he would lead the singing and his enthusiasm was catching. He would sing recent Israeli songs and old chassidic tunes he remembered from his youth. In 1947 I arrived in Basel at a Zionist Congress convention, together with a number of English leaders of Habonim. During a break in one of the hot discussions that had been going on, a group of members gathered around Hartzfeld. "The Old-Young Man" started singing, and in a few minutes so was everyone else; some in Hebrew and others just carried the tune...from that very first meeting, Hartzfeld fought for our right to settle at Naame. Suddenly, the War is So Close We sat up on that little hill isolated from the rest of the world. Newspapers arrived several days late, and the radio's battery wasn't always in working condition. Perhaps also, our style of life (which I called "living with Nature"), its novelty, the scenery and the surroundings distanced us (physically and mentally) from the rest of the world, which was soon to be involved in a terrible war. This war was approaching the borders of our land. In North Africa, the Germans advanced to the border of Egypt, and in Lebanon, the Vichy Government, now a vassal of Germany, had large forces of Senegalese soldiers ready to assist or attack, as the Germans might require of them. The British decided to preempt them, and overcome Lebanon. Lebanon was to be invaded from the south and east. An Australia contingent which was to attack from the south, took up positions in the orchards of Kfar Giladi and the surrounding wadis (ravines). We also heard that fortifications had been built at Rosh Pina. However, all these preparations did not raise tension or unease, perhaps because the big, friendly Aussies that wandered around were so at ease and gave us a feeling of security. On the 25th of June, 1941, I rode to Kfar Giladi to pick up a number of things, including a new battery for the radio. Near the Metula-Halsa road (where the Dafna junction is today) there was a small tent outpost manned by Australian military police, and three Aussies sat there. I stopped and said good morning and asked them what's new. "Haven't you heard? Russia is at war," they answered. On June 22nd, the German armies invaded Russia, and we on the hill muffed this important development in the war of the Allies against Hitler. Our life on the hill continued as usual until we had another sudden shock. We were told that the Australian command warned the surrounding settlements that it had decided to retreat to Rosh Pina. This placed all the settlements on the alert. A messenger came to us from the defense committee of Kfar Giladi and told us that all the men, women and children of Metula had left the moshava and some of Kfar Giladi's people had gone to keep watch there. He said that some of the new settlements were willing to take a chance, stay where they were and see what would develop, but he suggested that we vacate. A small isolated outpost like ours doesn't stand a chance. Kfar Giladi also signaled to us by Morse, saying they were sending a truck to pick us up and move us out. We decided that we are not budging from our hill, and I think we did not even regard this as a problem of security and defense. We only had two rifles and a sack of hand grenades. Our answer was a spontaneous reaction of a group of young kids standing by a crazy idea for which they were willing to stay on a malaria-stricken hill in the middle of nowhere and fever. At any rate, when the trucks came, we helped two women who were not feeling well to get into them, and the rest of us stayed where we were. The danger and the tension subsided quickly; the Australians did not retreat; on the contrary, they advanced, and started an offensive, and we remained where we were, period. The immediate danger to our region blew over, and once again, I could leave for Tel Aviv to take care of Naame's business. I found out that the American initiative to establish a settlement in the name of Leon Blum improved our chances. In addition to Hartzfeld's unconditional support, Berl Katznelson also was ready to help. Katznelson, the greatly admired leader of the workers' movement in Israel, carried a lot weight with the Zionist leadership and its institutions. In our meetings with Hartzfe1d and Katznelson, we convinced them that they should support our demand to be the kibbutz that would be established in the name of Leon Blum, and that the kibbutz should be erected at Naame. Regarding the first part of our demand, they were in whole-hearted agreement. As regards Naame, they said we should be patient, and flexible, because the JNF experts did not think a kibbutz should be built in such a low-lying area, close to the marshes. Yosef Weitz still was against building at Naame; Hartzfeld was still waging our war to lease the lands at Naame. We were matched against a very tough opponent, Kfar Giladi. This kibbutz, the first in the region, had fought for years to assure its physical and economic safety. Almost all the land that Kfar Giladi tilled was either difficult to till or of low productivity. Most of their land was not irrigated because water was limited. When the JNF started to buy land in the Huleh, Kfar Giladi asked to be given some land that could be irrigated, in addition to what they already had. The directorate of the JNF and the Agricultural Board of the Histadrut (Labor Organization) were sympathetic to the demands of Kfar Giladi, but stipulated that any division would be temporary until all the land that could possibly be acquired would be in the hands of the JNF, and would take into account any new settlements that would be established in the region. It was decided to lease the one thousand dunams to Kfar Giladi, but Hartzfeld already tried to get us an addition to the paltry fifty dunams adjacent to Shwartz' five hundred dunams, so that we would be able to settle at Naame. At this juncture, we became rivals to Kfar Giladi, and they regarded us as threatening their best interests. This situation was not pleasant for us either, but we were determined to remain and settle at Naame! "Vacation" in Benyamina When there were more married couples among us, and some new fathers as well, it became the norm to send people back to Benyamina once every two months. We called this the "Benyamina Vacation." Of course it was a vacation only in a figurative sense, because the vacationers worked in Benyamina, as did everyone else. The chaverim looked forward eagerly to this vacation, as did the women and young mothers also, as their little children hadn't seen their fathers for two months. For me personally, my position was easier than most and I did not need a Benyamina vacation, since, because of my position as kibbutz representative, I would stop over in Benyamina on my way to Tel Aviv on kibbutz business. I would stay in Benyamina for a day or a day and a half, and spend some time with Beba and little Dan, who grew a great deal between visits. At rarer intervals, chaverim and chaverot from Benyamina would come to visit us on the hill. I also had an unexpected visit from Beba, thanks to an incident which now seems quite humorous. As I was coming down with an attack of fever, I received a letter from Beba. I managed to read it on my way to bed, and even wrote a letter and put it in an envelope. It was handed to someone who was leaving for Benyamina. Only a short while later, I discovered my letter next to my bed, and realized that I had put Beba's letter back in the envelope instead of mine. The mistake could not be corrected, as the person had already left for Benyamina. When Beba received her own letter in an envelope addressed by me, she did not know what to think and decided to come up to Naame. She arrived from Halsa on horseback and found me hale and hearty. I immediately understood why she had come and explained why the mistake had happened. We were both pleased that the "calamity" had turned into a pleasant event, and laughed about it and enjoyed her visit. I was glad that she had the opportunity to see the hill with her own eyes, and knew it not only through letters. It was a short visit; (Dan was in Benyamina), but Beba managed to visit Kibbutz Dan also and return, all on horseback. With time, the continuous interaction and movement between Naame and Benyamina served to strengthen the social unity and framework of our kibbutz, which had been previously divided into Naame, Benyamina and several chaverim who worked in Afikim. We in Naarme were a bridgehead for future hityashvut (settlement); the group in Afikim gave us financial returns; and the base in Benyamina was the economic, organizational and social center of the kibbutz. The general assembly there, and the committees ran the kibbutz. The industry in Benyamina and the agricultural branches started to develop and pay off, and laid the basis for our future in Naame. And no less important, our children were raised in Benyamina, and from those early days onwards, they have always been our most precious possession, socially, and culturally, and enriched our lives. We Are "Discovered" I can't figure out exactly how or why we suddenly converted from an unknown bunch of kids on a godforsaken hill in the middle of the Huleh, to the proper address for guests and visitors. After the memorable visit of Dr. Mehr which I mentioned previously, no one else came to visit us. The first to break the isolation were Abe and Zina Herman. This couple, among the first members of Habonim in England, were old friends from the early Benyamina days, and they came to visit us every so often on the hill. Their visits ended when they left Israel on shlichut. In later years, Abe was Ambassador to Washington, and Zina was active on some committee of the United Nations. Years later, I met Abe again in Jerusalem when I was on some official business connected with my position in the office of the Prime Minister. During the 'sixties, when he was Ambassador to Washington, Abe suddenly appeared in our kibbutz. He came to co-opt me for an important position in the embassy and succeeded in convincing the kibbutz to send me. But back to the hill. To the best of my memory, one particular visit seemed to give impetus to the others. That was the visit of two special guests: Moshe Sharet (Shertok, in those days), who was responsible for foreign affairs in the Zionist Organization, and his friend and schoolmate, David Hacohen, the CEO of the building construction company, Solel Boneh, who was also on good terms with British officialdom in Palestine. We were told of their arrival by Morse and we waited for them for a long time. When we had almost despaired of their coming and were about to finish off the meagre offerings we had prepared for them, they showed up riding on a pair of horses. During the First World War, both had been officers in the Turkish Army. We had the impression that they were experienced riders. I imagine that Sharet had heard from Katznelson or Hartzfeld about us, decided to visit the Anglo-Baltic chalutzim in the Huleh and asked David to come along with him. Moshe was particularly interested in the Anglo-Saxons among us; what youth movement they had been in, and where they or their parents originally came from. After that visit, we had many "assorted" visitors. One, for instance, was a British officer who came to spend a short leave working with us in the fields, even washed dishes in the kitchen, and in all, felt very much at ease with us. He was an amateur artist, and left us one of his pictures which he painted in Naame. We were even more surprised when five young men dropped in on us, sailors on a South African naval vessel anchored in Haifa. They had a short leave, were all farm boys back home, and wanted a vacation in a village. Moshe Sharet's office sent them to us. They were strong and agile and worked very well, and enjoyed our company, the singing in the evening and swimming in the Jordan on Saturdays. They didn't even complain about the poor (to put it mildly) meals we ate. There were other very different guests, five or six members of Maccabi, from Bombay, India. These boys had made aliya and were sent to us, probably they that had sent them hoped that they would want to join us. They were well-dressed men, but not manly enough in our sense of the word. Their hands blistered, they had backaches and stomach aches and they tired at work even though they didn't work so hard. One of them asked to work in the cow barn, and when asked why, he said because they work sitting down. These unfortunate wretches fell into the wrong hole, and left ASAP. It took some time before we met others of our kin from India, who have worked and lived with us for a long time. If I thought that Dr. Mehr's visit was historical, then Hartzfeld's was even more so. On his first visit, he was quiet and reserved. He came with a committee that was supposed to suggest what the future of the land that the JNF had purchased in the Huleh should be. Hartzfeld did not limit himself to this visit, but came again by himself, cheerful and joking on our account, and before departing repeated, "Hold out, and things will work out in the end." I mention these visitors now, because I think they also had some important influence on our future. It broke the feeling of isolation, it added interest to and color to our daily life, and even taught us not to underestimate ourselves. Advancing, Absorbing Young People In the fall of 1941, preparations for digging the fish ponds were completed, the planning, surveying and putting in markers was done. Shwartz brought in 5-6 tractors (one of ours and the rest from other kibbutzim). In the next few days we had to get used to certain changes. The noise of the tractors and the billowing dust defaced the pastoral beauty and solitude of the hill. There were changes on the hill also. Once work had started on the ponds, Shwartz needed more workers, so reinforcements came up from Benyamina. Shwartz improved his part of the stone house. His brother Mordechai, who was overseer of the work on the ponds, lived there, and we improved on our part of the house; we added wooden shacks, some farm sheds, a water tower, and later still, a bakery. In the evening, the tractorists would bring the tractors to the hill and prepare them for the fol1owing day's work. The foreign tractorists (those from other kibbutzim) would go back to their homes for the night, and would come again in the morning. At the start, Moshe Shwartz would also arrive every day, but he did not stay at the hill for the night. It was not the same hill we knew the first six months that we were there. The lonely little hill was now bustling with life. In addition to our own chaverim were the tractorists and other skilled workers that Shwartz had brought. Yoske Goral and his leanto on stilts were an integral part of the scenery. Our feeling that we would be allowed to settle there permanently grew stronger, especially when I returned from Tel Aviv with the announcement that we were to receive a good-sized piece of land on the banks of the Jordan River under lease from the JNF. In Benyamina there were discussions about the possibility of absorbing a group of Noar Oleh (Youth Aliya) from Afikim. (In Afikim the group was called "Noar C"-- the 3rd Youth Group). There had been such a group when we were at Afikim, the 2nd Youth Group; these were young people who were in Aliyat Noar and came to the kibbutz to learn trades. We had worked with them and we thought this was a good element to add to the kibbutz. They were lively and healthy kids and one reason they had done well was that they had a very good leader in Mula Zeharhari (I mentioned him previously). To my mind, Youth Aliya was one of the outstanding achievements of the Zionist Movement in those days. Aliyat Noar was a project initiated by Henrietta Szold. This 70-year-old woman was an unforgettable Zionist leader with a beautiful soul, and a determined fighter. She knew how to convince Jewish parents in Central Europe, where the Nazis had already gained control, to allow their 15-16-year-old children to organize into groups for Aliya to Palestine. Henrietta Szold managed to "force" the British to give certificates to those groups that would make aliya. In this way, thousands of youth escaped from those countries where they were in danger of being wiped out. These groups of Aliyat Noar studied, worked, and were educated mostly in the kibbutzim all over the country. The group of Noar in Afikim completed its two years of study at the end of 1940. Most of them had come from the Netzach movement in Austria, and some from Czechoslovakia. The group was organized in Vienna and some other individuals were added to bring the group to the right size. When they had completed their stay at Afikim, quite a large number of them decided not to split and break up, but to stay at Afikim until the proper authorities decide where they should be sent. At the end of the third year, the suggestion arose that they join the Anglo-Baltic kibbutz (there were other suggestions as well, such as to remain at Afikim). We in Benyamina had tough debates about their joining us, because some were not sure if they would suit our group; mixing a German-speaking element with Baltic and English, could be complicated. Even the majority among us who were for receiving them realized it would be difficult, but thought that nevertheless they should be accepted, since with the outbreak of war there was no aliya and we needed more young people, especially if we were soon to settle on our own land. I was sent to Afikim to speak to the group. I told them about Benyamina, and about Metula. but I spoke mostly about Naame, where we had decided to settle despite all odds and all difficulties that stood in our way. I told them that if they decided to join, they would go straight up to Naame, because that is the best place to receive a young group full of energy, and I suggested that they send up some of their people to look the place over. At the end of 1941 they decided to join us. In the spring of 1942, a group of 18 young boys and girls arrived. A significant addition to our work force. In their time at Afikim they had learned to work well, some at farming and some at various trades. Some volunteered for the British Army in 1941 and came to us after war, when the hill was already a story of the past.

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