This is the Hebrew version of Nurit Henig's new story about the life and thoughts of a child during a war. I think it is universal to all children and all wars... and very beautifully written. Please wee the previous entry to read the English version! It's a little different from my usual postings in the way it was formatted, but this is because the site keeps arguing with me that it does not understand Hebrew, and I had to trick it by seeing it as a picture...
I am happy to post a second story by Nurit Henig (see her biography on the story "Yuda'le" below). Not only I find it an extremely well-writting story, but it is a powerful, universal account of a child's life and thoughts during war.
Children’s Games: A War Story
By Nurit Henig
The three of us, Nili, Koby, and I, sat on our sand hill which the truck dumped on the sidewalk.
The hill wasn’t only ours, it belonged to all the residents on the street, who filled sacks to protect the shelters’ doors from the air blast, but we turned it into a playground, and no one had the leisure to chase us away. It happened a little after Passover, and after I had celebrated my seventh birthday.
Mother thought I was too old to play in the sand, but there were no games in the little room we occupied on the third floor, except a box of Pick-Up Sticks, dominoes, two packs of cards the grownups used for playing Gin Rummy, and also an old chess set Father used to open when he was home, but he was at the wars for a long time. It was late afternoon on Friday so we knew we would have to separate any minute, since it was almost the Sabbath.
I am thrilled to post a new personal history from Israel! The story is generously given to us by a distinguished lecturer and scriptwriter, Dr. Yitzchak Enav-Winehouse. Enjoy! And please leave many nice comments since I hope to persuade Dr. Enav-Winehouse to send us more...
WHO ARE YOU, TEACHER?
Ever since I can remember myself, I have taught much but learnt so much more from my teaching. It all began a long, long time ago and in another country. I was then no more than a naive, twelve year old and there, wide-eyed in front of me were the “Kovshim,” the youngest age group in what is now the legendary Zionist youth movement of Hashomer Hatzair. The clubhousewas situated in the working class district of Hackney, the very heartland of Cockney London. These were kids who came from homes, like my own, where the only book to be found was a “sidur” or prayer book. They, like myself, would learn, in a movement which seethed with intellectual activity, of the worth and intoxication of reading.
I am delighted to post a very nice review that was sent to me by Dr. Yitzchak Enav (Winehouse), a noted lecturer and scriptwriter.
"I just found your delightful story: a lovely variation on Hamletian indecision and its devastating consequences. It has something very Jewish rather than Israeli about its tone. Yudale's procrastinations remind me of the Yeshiva Bochar dithering between two interpretations of a text, or the wondrous piece of dithering on the part of the protagonist in the film Chinese Take-Away. Terrific stuff!! Send me more ! Publish!"