Eshkol Nevo - Homesick

*

Today, out of the blue, in the middle of a lecture, I really missed you.

Lucky me.

I just wanted to get up and go straight home.

So why didn’t you?

You know …

Get up, get up, I’ll meet you at the door in my underwear.

And with a big hug too?

Sure, a big hug too. Why, did something happen at college?

Nothing special. I have days like that when Bezalel seems like one big maze and I’m the mouse, and every little conversation drains me, and I think that no one in the world loves me, no, even worse, that there’s something hard inside me that doesn’t let people love me.

What are you talking about?

It’s like a hungry tiger has its claws around my throat and won’t let go.

Yes, I know the feeling.

You do? What’s going to happen to us, we’re too much alike.

No we’re not. You’re messy and I’m organised.

How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not messy, I’m free.

Sounds like one of those soul songs, ‘I’m not messy, I’m fr-e-e-e-e-e’.

With Gidi Gov and Mazi Cohen in the background.

Accompanied by the Steve Miller Band and Singers.

The Hungry Tiger Singers.

Come here for a minute. Yes. Closer. Closer. You protect me from my tiger and I’ll protect you from yours, OK?

*

At the end of the month, the water heater exploded. No one knew yet that it was a metaphor. Someone, they didn’t know who, forgot to flip off the switch and all of a sudden, a little after one in the morning, it blew. A big boom, like a clap of thunder, but shorter. And a one-time geyser sprayed into the night air, covering the roofs and the field below with water.

Within seconds, everyone was outside. Moshe and Sima, Amir and Noa, and Yotam and his mum. (His father stayed asleep: the sound fitted right into the war he was dreaming about, the sound of an exploding bomb.)

During the first few seconds, they thought the worst (an earthquake, a Scud missile, even a terrorist bombing), but when the water began dripping from the roof, splashing on the asbestos and raising vapour, they realised it was nothing alarming. Noa went inside to turn off the switch, and her hand brushed against Sima’s, who had gone inside with the same objective in mind. Amir reassured Yotam by waving his hands and yelling: go back to sleep, kid, everything’s fine! The cats organised a meowing support group next to the washing line. Moshe Zakian stood outside, twisting a non-existent sidelock with his finger, thinking about how much money he’d have to pay. And decided to take care of it the next day.

Chorus

Sometimes we’re rap

Dissin’ each other all the time

Words, knives, nasty cracks

Listen up, yo

We do it all in rhyme.

Sometimes we’re trance

Smashin’ heads, necks, eyes

Bitin’ shoulders, asses, thighs

Night train! Take your seat!

‘Did you come?’ ‘Can you get me something to eat?’

But every time I think I know

How it’s supposed to be, all this you and me.

This you and me, hey,

The beat shifts, the disk warps

Love is a jittery deejay.

’Cause sometimes we’re blues

Playin’ in a key that’s oh so sad

Did you say something? No, did you?

We’ll talk about it tomorrow –

I’m tired too.

And sometimes we’re an Israeli folk tune

The kind that is so nice to croon

Scratch me here, stroke me there

Oh why can’t it be just this fine

All the time?

’Cause sometimes we’re Iggi Pop

or A Hard Day’s Night

Sometimes it’s rock guitars

And distortion all night

But every time I think I know

How it’s supposed to be, all this you and me

All this you and me, hey,

The beat shifts, the disk warps

Love is a jittery deejay.

The beat shifts, the disk warps

Love is a jittery deejay.

Music and lyrics: David Batsri

From the Licorice album, Love As I Explained it to My Wife ,

Produced independently, 1996

THE DRIVE WAS actually fine. My little Lilach didn’t cry too much, she just threw up a bit on the ride down to Jericho because of the turns, but I cleaned her up with the napkins I brought with me and gave her some water to drink. On the Jordan Valley Road, she went back to smiling that smile of hers that makes her look like an angel, and Liron played quietly with his Tetris. Usually, he keeps on shoving his head between the front seats and Moshe doesn’t like that because it’s dangerous, so they argue about it the whole way, but this time, because of the Tetris, he sat close to the window and didn’t look up from the screen, not even when Moshe said, look, here’s Lake Kinneret. Too bad, Liron, you’re missing out, I told him, because it really was something to see: a giant blue pool glittered between the mountains like a mirror. I don’t believe it, he said — and for a minute, we thought he was admiring the pool — I beat my own record! I beat it! Moshe laughed and said, that’s great, kid, and my little Lilach started giving a whole speech in her own language, biddy, bodu, bu du ja. Liron, pleased with himself, finally put down the Tetris, tickled her stomach and asked, Mum, what’s bigger, the Kinneret or the sea? I said, the sea, and he asked, how do you know? I said that you can’t see where the sea ends, but you can see where the Kinneret ends, and he didn’t say anything, but looked satisfied with the answer. The four of us drove along like that, the Kinneret on our right, a whole row of kibbutzim on our left and Greek music in the middle, Moshe singing along with Poliker singing about Aleka, the poor little Greek boy who was no Alexander. I drummed the rhythm on Moshe’s knee and thought, no question about it, we have to get out of Jerusalem every once in a while, to get a breath of fresh air, especially during such a tough week when all the TV stations are talking about Rabin, may he rest in peace.

But the minute we got to Rabbi Menachem’s house, my good mood was ruined. On the trip up there, I somehow managed to forget that visits to Moshe’s brother are no big pleasure, which is why we only go two or three times a year, but as soon as we walked in and said, Shabbat Shalom, and Menachem said, may your Shabbat be blessed, and lifted Liron into the air and forced his face close to the mezuzah and said, little man, didn’t you ever hear about kissing the mezuzah ? I remembered why those Saturdays get on my nerves so much that I always leave with my hair full of electricity. But I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to spoil Moshe’s time with his oldest brother, who actually raised him because Avram and Gina used to work from morning to night. The two brothers hugged and kissed each other on the cheek, and Bilha, Menachem’s wife, came over and helped me off with my jacket. No matter how hard I try to dress modestly, I always feel naked next to her. Bilha didn’t say a word, but she didn’t have to: the way she looked at my new earrings said it all. I checked that all the buttons on my blouse were buttoned. After the seder night last Passover, Moshe really let me have it about the bottom button — not the top one, mind you — of my white blouse that had been open and everyone could see — God help us — my belly button. I didn’t need that again. Meanwhile, my Liron had joined the ‘sidelocks unit’, Menachem’s four sons — I can never remember their names in the right order — and followed them out into the garden. Lilach was handed over to Hefzibah, the pretty, oldest daughter who always kept her eyes glued to her patent leather shoes. Hefzibah took her to the small room where Menachem and Bilha’s new baby girl, Bat-El, the latest in the production line, was waiting.