Amos Oz - A Perfect Peace

And this as well:

Whatever informs a bird in a tropical rain forest in South America that the moment has come to fly north if it is to arrive in the Canadian tundra just in time for the spring thaw?

I've copied out these lines because, absurd as it may seem, if even a great man like Yolek can allow himself to believe in the most crackpot hypothesis, why shouldn't I try out my own modest powers of divination, no matter how wild the hunch?

Roughly an hour-and-a-half ago, at about twenty after two, while I was lying in bed, reading Griffin, there was a knock on my door. Before I could answer it, the door burst open. It was Hava. She had to have a serious talk with me. At once. This minute.

That she found me in my long underwear, a tattered woolen scarf wrapped around my throat, looking like a refugee from the underworld, didn't faze her one bit or make her feel the least need to apologize. She marched across the room in a huff and sat down on my unkempt bed. I fled to the bathroom, locked the door, and dressed hurriedly before emerging.

An obviously aging woman, her hair braided in a circle around her head, a Polish severity about her, a wispy mustache above lips perpetually pursed, righteous to her fingertips but determined to be tolerant as a matter of principle, having no choice but to put up with the despicable weaknesses of others.

How, I asked, might I be of help? She would try, she said, to control herself. She would not even begin to tell me what she really thought. Now all she wanted from me was to act. If I didn't want to be haunted all my life by what was about to happen to Yolek, whose state was far worse than I thought, I had better get that sewer rat out of here this very day. Every extra hour was a knife in her back and in Yolek's sick heart. Not just because of the publicity — why, any moment the hyenas from the press might arrive — but because Yoni must on no account find that creature here when he returned. Didn't I realize what was going on? Was 1 an imbecile like the rest of them? That little turd was living as merrily as you please in Yoni's room, and even sleeping in his bed. Who in the world would put up with such a sick scene? Not even cannibals in the jungle. And I was supposed to be secretary of the kibbutz. Well, that was what always happened when little men try stepping into shoes too big for them. But never mind. I would pay for it dearly, with interest. For what I had put Yoni through and for whatever happened to Yolek. Either I made up for at least part of the harm I had done by giving that worthless bum the heave-ho, or I would never hear the last of it from her. Today! The doctor, by the way, had expressly said that he was afraid it was the heart this time. She wanted me to know she could see right through my manipulations. At least I might stop playing the village saint. Because she had never misjudged a person yet. And she hoped that I didn't expect her to believe that I had really done all I could to get in touch with America. What kind of monster was I, lying here in bed like a country squire and snoozing away the afternoon? At which point she rose and stood facing me, taut and breathless, as if declining with stoic fortitude to strike back at her enemies.

"Hava," I said. "You're not being fair."

"Then throw him out of here!" she snapped, her eyes flashing. "This very minute!"

With a gesture of offended gentility, she turned to go.

"I'm sorry," I said. "You'll have to give me time to think about it. I do promise, though, to talk to Rimona and the young man. I think he can be persuaded to return to the barber's shack. But first we must concentrate on Yoni. There's reason to believe he'll come back soon. You have my solemn pledge that once he's safely home I'll convene a meeting of the family life committee. If it decides that action needs to be taken, I won't hesitate to do so. Hava. Please."

"I want to di-i-i-e-e!" she suddenly wailed in the shrill, piercing voice of a spoiled child who has been crushingly humiliated. "Srulik, I just want to die."

"Hava," I said. "Do try to calm down. You know we're all behind you. The whole kibbutz. Believe me, I've been doing, and will continue to do, everything in my power."

"I know," she sobbed, her face hidden in a white handkerchief. "I know you're a dear. And I'm just a horrid old witch gone completely out of her senses. I hope you'll forgive me, Srulik, though I've no right to ask after all my insults. I just want you to know I feel ashamed and want to die. Could I please have a glass of water?"

And after drinking it, she began again. "Srulik, tell me the whole truth. I'm tough as nails. I can take it. Tell me what you think. Is Yonatan alive? Yes or no?"

"Yes," I said quietly, with uncharacteristic firmness, "he's alive and well. He's been unhappy lately and just decided to go away and be by himself for a while. I've often thought of doing the same thing. And so have you. We all have."

She lifted her streaming face to me. "In this whole madhouse you're the only one who remained human. I want you to know I'll never forget it. That there was one feeling person among all those murderers and I attacked him like a beast and called him the most awful names."

"Hava," I said. "Don't be angry with me for saying that you need to rest a bit. There's already enough pain in the world. Let's try to keep as calm as we can."

"From now on," she said, like a mollified child, "I swear I'll do everything you tell me. I'm going to go back home right now and rest. You're my good angel. But I still don't think he should be living at Yoni's. And sleeping in his bed. It's indecent."

"You may be right about that," I said. "I think you are, but there's reason to believe he won't refuse to move back to his old room. After that we'll see. And Hava, if Yolek isn't feeling well, please let me know right away. Try to convince him to take the doctor's advice."

"But I'm not speaking to him any more. He's a murderer, Srulik. Are you asking me to throw myself into a murderer's arms?"

Once Hava was gone, I forced myself to spoon up half a container of yogurt and take an aspirin. I wrapped myself in my coat and went to look for Azariah Gitlin. I found him sitting at the switchboard. He was still so distraught that after sleeping for less than two hours he had got up and run back to his post.

He cringed when I walked in and hurried to offer me a cigarette — in fact, a whole pack, because he had another in his pocket. I had to remind him I didn't smoke.

"A thousand apologies, Comrade Srulik. Cigarettes are the most revolting poison. I beg your pardon. 'Stepan gave Alyosha his most precious stones; Alyosha got mad and broke Stepan's bones.' In Russian, Stepan actually gave Alyosha his silver spoon, but I changed it to stones to maintain the rhyme. I'm ashamed of myself, Comrade Srulik, for causing you all this trouble. Yonatan's the only friend I ever had in the whole world. But his going away — I mean this trip of his — I had absolutely nothing to do with it. Whatever you all may be thinking is the exact opposite of the truth. Because I want you to know, Comrade Srulik, that it was Yonatan who invited me into his home. It's as simple as that. You can even announce it at the next general meeting. He wanted someone to be there. He even showed me where he kept all his tools so I could replace him. Just as you've replaced Yolek. There's no embarassment like a bad comparison, as the saying goes, but you're all making the mistake that Spinoza called the confusion of cause and effect. Yoni didn't decide to go away because I moved in. He had me move in because he had decided to go away. It's a perfect example of mistaking the effect for the cause. Are you, Comrade Srulik, an admirer of Spinoza?"

"Of course I am," I said. "But let's leave Spinoza for less troubled times. Meanwhile, let me ask you a question and perhaps a favor too."