By Assa Bartov, June 1, 2004
Tel Mond was a small moshava, but it had far more doctors than average. I would like to tell about four of them who left their mark on the community.
The first was Dr. Kosta, the first physician I ever knew. He lived in the center of the colony, but cared for all the settlements in the region. A doctor with a soul, he always knew that the medical tools at his disposal were limited, so a smile, a kind word, dedication, and patience were his everyday remedies. When medicine failed and the fever or pain persisted, he had his “magic cure” - tea with lemon and plenty of honey. And it worked.
I owe him a personal debt: on a dark night during the Arab Revolt (1936-1939), when I needed urgent care and the road to the moshava was life-threatening, he was summoned to my bedside by Morse code signals from the top of the water tower (there were no telephones then). Dr. Kosta, riding his black horse, didn’t hesitate or weigh the risks - he simply came.
I will always remember him with that kindhearted smile behind his glasses, riding in tight breeches or driving his carriage - the “private car” of those days.
The second doctor was Dr. Ben-Bassat, the moshava’s first dentist. He set up his “clinic” in a small shack. One room housed his family, another was the treatment room, and the reception area doubled as a kitchen. The clients’ bathroom was outside, in the yard or behind the bushes…
Dr. Ben-Bassat had a sense of humor, but he was also short-tempered—and more than one patient got a good slap when they screamed too loudly.
When there were power outages, and there were many, he used a pedal-powered drill, like a bicycle. The speed of the drill depended on how fast you pedaled. It was no pleasure, I assure you.
Years after he left us and moved to Tel Aviv, we still went to him for dental care.
The third doctor was Dr. Baksht, a veterinarian, one of the most sought-after people in the region. The health of horses, cows, and other four-legged creatures was nearly as important as human health. Dr. Baksht was deeply involved in the farmers’ lives, knowing their souls as well as their animals’. Many of his visits ended not just in the barn or stable, but at the kitchen table, in conversation over a drink.
The health of a cow or a horse carried enormous weight for the moshavnik; the farm’s future and livelihood depended on it. That’s why the doctor was a respected and authoritative figure.
The fourth doctor was Dr. Haim Shiber - a teacher, educator, historian, geographer, and photographer.
At our school, a teacher had to be multi-talented to succeed. He couldn’t specialize in just one subject; the “conditions on the ground” required flexibility. One year he taught geography, the next history, the year after that he filled in for math, and then for literature. It seemed like the only subject he didn’t teach was physical education. Other than that—he taught everything.
We didn’t always understand what a man with his level of education was doing at our school, teaching mischievous children who didn’t take learning seriously. He wasn’t always allowed to soar to the subjects he loved—geography and history, but when he was, we saw his true self: vast knowledge and genuine passion.
Dr. Shiber loved our annual field trips - that’s where he flourished. Armed with his eternal camera, he documented the children, the landscapes, and history in the making. With his passion for photography, he chased after every major event in the region and followed the development of the settlements. His contribution to documenting and preserving the region’s history is immense. And if I love geography, history, and photography today - it’s probably thanks to him.