Sarah 5
I've noticed a curious thing about secular Israelis. They claim to dislike us, yet on every occasion when there is trouble they go way out of their way to be fair and lenient. I mean come on, if those 200 drunks had been anyone other than Haredi, the newspapers would be calling it treason. Actively aiding your enemy in wartime, possible death penalty. Yet the whole thing is presented as nothing more than drunken lads in a minor indiscretion.
The IDF proves to be even more lenient than I guessed. Some 3/4 of the men were already married; got the standard four month tour. However, the other 1/4, all of whom were engaged were given an easy out. Two busloads of them arrived, accompanied by two hard looking Colonels who acted as witnesses. The rabbi did a mass ceremony. Then the men were taken away to join their comrades in basic. The women were all given their draft exemption cards on the spot by these Colonels.
Very nice, takes care of everyone but me. Now the men, when they return from tour, it will be to a hero's welcome. Me, it would be different. Just spending the last week lodging with all these prostitutes has ruined my reputation you see. Forget ever going back, guilt by association, I too am now a prostitute.
The week of exams defies belief. My Hebrew written skills really ain't that good. The questions are long, convoluted and baffle me. Eventually I realize it's pointless. It's all multiple choice anyhow, so I just guess everything.
The conversations in mess and common room are beyond belief. It's best to keep this story suitable for children, so I won't repeat things. However, stories actually include bestiality. OY!!
And now I sit waiting to be called for my interview. All around me, I can sense the fear of death. These girls are really scared what they'll get. Me, I shrug. I'm Hasid, we believe in reincarnation, similar to Hindus and Buddhists. Death is immaterial to me. What frightens me is having to kill, being judged harshly in G-d's eyes.
A fat Sgt calls out "Sarah Zilberstein". Oy! So this is what your career soldier looks like. Heavy nicotine stains, bloodshot eyes, reeking of last night's booze.
She opens the file, "well shortstuff, guess what, we've decided you qualify as a dishwasher."
"Would that mean using a dishwashing machine or by hand?"
Hard look, "you're pulling my leg, aren't you?" A second of examining my face, "no you're not. It's just that Haredim don't read lotsa newspapers."
I nod vaguely.
"Yes sunshine, it's machines. And yes, that's the same machines as you'd find in hotels, restaurants or boarding schools."
Thank heavens! At least I end up with something marketable.
"Go back to the waiting room. Col wants to talk with you."
I feel a shudder of fear. Come on now, surely Col's don't talk with every new recruit. Wonder how heavy it's gonna be?
The IDF proves to be even more lenient than I guessed. Some 3/4 of the men were already married; got the standard four month tour. However, the other 1/4, all of whom were engaged were given an easy out. Two busloads of them arrived, accompanied by two hard looking Colonels who acted as witnesses. The rabbi did a mass ceremony. Then the men were taken away to join their comrades in basic. The women were all given their draft exemption cards on the spot by these Colonels.
Very nice, takes care of everyone but me. Now the men, when they return from tour, it will be to a hero's welcome. Me, it would be different. Just spending the last week lodging with all these prostitutes has ruined my reputation you see. Forget ever going back, guilt by association, I too am now a prostitute.
The week of exams defies belief. My Hebrew written skills really ain't that good. The questions are long, convoluted and baffle me. Eventually I realize it's pointless. It's all multiple choice anyhow, so I just guess everything.
The conversations in mess and common room are beyond belief. It's best to keep this story suitable for children, so I won't repeat things. However, stories actually include bestiality. OY!!
And now I sit waiting to be called for my interview. All around me, I can sense the fear of death. These girls are really scared what they'll get. Me, I shrug. I'm Hasid, we believe in reincarnation, similar to Hindus and Buddhists. Death is immaterial to me. What frightens me is having to kill, being judged harshly in G-d's eyes.
A fat Sgt calls out "Sarah Zilberstein". Oy! So this is what your career soldier looks like. Heavy nicotine stains, bloodshot eyes, reeking of last night's booze.
She opens the file, "well shortstuff, guess what, we've decided you qualify as a dishwasher."
"Would that mean using a dishwashing machine or by hand?"
Hard look, "you're pulling my leg, aren't you?" A second of examining my face, "no you're not. It's just that Haredim don't read lotsa newspapers."
I nod vaguely.
"Yes sunshine, it's machines. And yes, that's the same machines as you'd find in hotels, restaurants or boarding schools."
Thank heavens! At least I end up with something marketable.
"Go back to the waiting room. Col wants to talk with you."
I feel a shudder of fear. Come on now, surely Col's don't talk with every new recruit. Wonder how heavy it's gonna be?
posted by afghangirlscifi @ 8:04 AM
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