Here, nearly forty years ago, I was born
In a small hut, in a small village -
My childhood passed gently by.
I remember -
My little feet
Wandering barefoot
Through the sandy paths and dusty lanes,
Winding trails
Leading to every home,
And those who walked them -
Simple, kind-hearted people.
I remember -
Along the roadside
Bloomed anemones and tulips,
Lupines and golden sunroses.
We gathered them into a bouquet for mother,
Because then, in the open fields,
Nothing was scarce.
I remember -
The scent of an approaching holiday,
The air filled
With smells of fresh cleaning and cooking,
And everyone was rushing, rushing.
And then, when the holiday arrived
In its full splendor,
A spirit of holiness filled the air,
Voices of melody, prayer, and Kiddush.
And we, the children,
Could only absorb it all - taste, feel, and be moved.
But more than anything -
What I remember most
Are the people.
We were like one big family.
When there was a wedding - everyone came.
Everyone cooked, everyone baked.
Everyone was invited,
Everyone stood beneath the chuppah,
Everyone rejoiced, danced, and celebrated -
As if a brother or son was being wed.
And if, heaven forbid,
There was a funeral -
We stood together,
Grieved, supported, and wept.
And even though today Ein Sarid is more beautiful -
The paths have become paved roads,
The huts replaced by fine homes -
What I miss most
Is the togetherness of the people.
And so I call on every child -
To love, to care, to share -
Because that
Is the greatest joy of all.
Ein Sarid – Orna Allalouf Founders’ Day, 2000 (5760)