The Matrix

Anyone who has talked to me in the past week knows that it's lonely here.  In a town of seventeen families, I have only spoken to my host family (the Arizunis), two volunteers at a nearby farm, and two random Americans at the pool in a moshav 20 km away.  Moreover, the Arizunis quite understandably speak in mostly Hebrew.  Even though they make an effort to speak to me in English, it's been hard to connect with them.  It's not even just that it's difficult to communicate but I feel as if speaking to them in English, interrupting the seamless flow of dinner conversation or the silence of a lazy afternoon, is a huge imposition on them.  They've been so nice that I just can't bring myself to do it.  So I remain silent and leave meals early to give them time to chat and I keep to myself.

Then they found out that I had never seen the Matrix.  I thought their eyes were all going to collectively fall from their heads.  There was a long silence and then everyone started talking at once.  Some worriedly to one another in Hebrew, some in shocked English, and some in a panicked combination.  Let me be clear, this in no way solved the culture gap or has made me feel any less timid about my position as the only volunteer on this farm.  However, my relationship with the family has gone from "day laborer who enjoys food privileges and a rare chat around the meal table" to "day laborer who enjoys food privileges and a rare chat around the meal table AND who we must teach about the Matrix".

This is an important change because in the past week I have been privy to three incredible movie viewings.  On top of that, they have begun bringing me to the pool at the moshav down the road every few days when they go.  It's so much easier for me to communicate with them when we're sharing these secret moments of bliss.  And there's no other word for either experience than bliss.  I can forget that I'm lonely and have little in common with this family.  I can forget the heat.  I forget all of my inhibitions.  I forget my problems and responsibilities and endless worries.

Swimming is obvious.  I'm so much better on water than land.  So much more fluid and relaxed.  Moreover, it's the one thing I can connect with the kids about and since Tamar and Avi live for their kids, it's the one thing I can really connect with them all about.  I taught them to do handstands and Tamar and I worked with Lulu on her swimming.  I showed up the cocky teenage boys who annoy/bully Raz in an underwater swimming competition (two lengths in a single breath) and they were so embarrassed they left the pool.  It was nice to not have to talk, for communication to come easily.

Watching a movie with them is more than a connection, though, it's sacred.  A privilege.  The movies are shown on a projector screen that they hang in the kitchen.  The house is made of two train cars pushed into a "T" with the wall opened up so it feels like two spacious hallways more than a house.  I feel like there's some sort of wonderful symmetry that their house is shaped like a "T" while my house in California looks like a "U". So where the two intersect is where I like to think that the kitchen ends and their living room area begins - not that there are really any partitions in the space.  Two of the viewings took place in the hottest part of the day.  We covered the windows with sheets and turned on a fan.  Pressing my full body against the cold metal floor with the fan pointed at me was my first relief from the heat and the flies for the day and it was magnificent.  With the lights down and the projector swaying slightly in the occasional breeze that made it through the sheets, it felt like I was on a different continent.  Someplace cool and slightly moist.  In the middle of the film, though, it stopped and the lights went up.  Long enough for a bathroom break, I thought.  Really, it was long enough for Tamar to get chocolate.  Delicious dark chocolate that melted in your mouth.  Four tiny squares with every viewing.  The only processed food in the house.  The last Matrix we just watched at night.  Since it was warmer, we could put mattresses on the floor and not worry about sweating.  Every time the sentinels broke through to the dock there was a collective gasp.  I'm not going to lie, only their youngest  and I covered our eyes but you know I don't do action/adventure often!  Walking out into the stars with the now cool air on my skin and the soft well worn sand path beneath my feet, I felt like I was finally starting to get it.  The Arizunis and I will never be pen pals.  I probably will never come back.  But we'll always have the Matrix (all three of them).