Exodus: A day in my life, Part VIII

Beep beep….beep beep….beep beep….beep beep
 
I wake up.  Put on khaki pants, a short sleeved collard shirt, and sandals.
 
I get to the kibbutz Synagogue on time, but there are only three people inside.  The Friday night service begins on Lotan time, about ten minutes late.
 
I enjoy singing the prayers. I know some of the melodies from the Synagogue I would go to in Ventura, California. Some of the melodies are relatively new to me but I have learned them quickly.
 
I have difficulty remembering words, but after hearing a melody only a couple of times it sticks in my head.  That’s how my brain works. I don’t know exactly what I am saying, as the prayer book is entirely in Hebrew, but I get a good feeling saying all the prayers.
 
The services last about an hour and by now the Synagogue is full. After the concluding song, everyone hugs each other and wishes each other a “Shabbat Shalom.”
 
I walk to the dining hall with the throngs of people, the kibbutzniks, the volunteers, tourists, and archaeologists. I see a table with my host family and sit with them.
 
For the past month I have eaten Saturday evening meals with my host family, the Hilani family.  The time spent with them has been one of the highlights of my time on the kibbutz. They are warm and full of love. 
 
The prayers over the wine and bread are said and the food is served. Tonight the food consists of a vegetable salad, rice, peas, and chicken.  The food is tasty, but the noise of the dining hall is a bit irritating. Some people get the food before dinner and bring it to their homes, but despite the noise it is nicer eating with everyone than eating alone.
 
When the dinner is over, I bring my dishes to the dishwashing room and head to the Synagogue, which is actually a social hall. Tea and coffee is served, as well as cake and watermelon.
 
I don’t want to socialize, but I do want watermelon, so I grab two pieces and head back to my room.
 
On my way to my room I see some volunteers hanging out and playing the guitar. I feel more comfortable hanging out with the volunteers and I sit with them.
 
I don’t really pay attention to what is being said. Mirav, Pomme, Tavor, Timor, and a handful of other volunteers are sitting.
 
Mirav takes out her guitar and begins to play some songs. I get excited and quickly go to my room and pick up my guitar, in order to play with Mirav. She has a songbook and I sit next to her and play and sing folk songs. It’s magic.
 
My phone rings.
 
“Hi,” I say.
 
“Are you going to be doing the music today?” Nat asks.
 
“Yes.”
 
“Leah and I will be opening the pub in twenty minutes.”
 
“I’ll see you then.”
 
I want the music to be organized, so I return to my room, and put my discs and mp3 player in my backpack. I take a quick shower and for ten minutes I just sit and listen to music. I am excited. I love putting on music.
 
I am ruled by time and the ten minutes has passed. It is time to walk to the kibbutz pub.
 
I meet Nat and Leah at the entrance to the pub.  They open the doors and begin preparing the bar. I go to the music booth, turn on the lights, turn on the sound system, turn on the computer, turn on the CD player, and plug in my mp3 player. I am ready. I get a glass of beer and wait for people to come.
 
I start the night off with easy listening. This is followed by rock and then dance music. By now I am a little drunk and am feeling good. Seeing people dance to the music I play makes me feel at peace with myself and the world. Everything is good.
 
The night ends at three in the morning. I take my music and walk back to my room. I set my alarm clock for 5:30 in the morning, as I need to get up early on Shabbat to milk the goats. I get into bed and quickly fall asleep.
 
That’s all. 

One day in the life of Yehuda Hammer.