Fed up with life in the Diaspora
Op-ed: Israel may not be land of milk and honey but it's the one place worth overcoming hardships for
I am planning to move to Israel next summer, but make no mistake – my wish does not stem from a belief that this tiny country in the Middle East is the land of milk and honey; nor do I think that suddenly all my problems will be solved.
The situation in the neighboring countries, the threat a nuclear Iran poses and the thought of the wars my children and grandchildren may be forced to survive all terrify me.
An Israeli friend recently asked me what my five favorite things about Israel are, and here is my list:
(1) Hummus Said in Akko. Hummus in general. Even better, food in general.
(2) Hebrew. Even though I lived in Israel for a year, I think I will never be able to get used to the miracle of young kids shouting to each other on the street in the most beautiful language in the world, which for me was the language of synagogues for so many years. I have a little tradition: Every time I arrive in Israel, I sit down at Ben Gurion Airport and have a cigarette, even if I miss my train. I just watch and listen, and get goose bumps from the Hebrew sounds dancing around me. How cheesy this might sound to Israelis, and how true it is for me.
(3) Being able to wear my Magen David outside – and not having to hide it under my dress.
(4) The Jewish atmosphere everywhere, even though I am not religious. Menorahs in the windows during Hanukkah, kosher food at supermarkets, kids in costumes on Purim, the silence on the streets on Yom Kippur – the list is endless.
We never got around to the fifth thing – we slipped into a long discussion about the first four.
Life in Israel hardly unbearable
I have lived in five countries: Hungary, Ethiopia, Spain, Israel, and now Sweden. Growing up in Hungary was not the easiest for a Jewish little girl. Looking back, one of the biggest childhood traumas I had (and you may consider me lucky for this being the biggest) was lying to my classmates about all the beautiful Christmas presents I got, when in reality, I had no clue what Christmas really was.
Now, as an adult with a strong Jewish identity, it seems ridiculous. Maybe it was an exaggeration on my parents' part when they told me not to admit that I am Jewish in class. Maybe it was their second-generation Holocaust-survivor paranoia. But it happened, and they were certainly not unique in this regard.
Twenty years on, Hungary is a country trying to deal with everyday reality. Democracy is so fragile that I, like many others, tend to think it is slowly but surely vanishing again. Many of my friends, who are active in the Jewish community, have been features – with their pictures and phone numbers – on an ultra right-wing, nationalist website.
Right now I'm living in Stockholm, Sweden. Finally – a welfare state! A rich country! Democracy! Freedom of speech, and equal rights for everyone!
But still, Stockholm is the first city that I live in, where I am scared to take the metro alone on a weekend night. And there are neighborhoods I would never enter, because all the Swedes I know have advised me not to: These are the immigrant ghettos of multicultural Stockholm.
At the same time, I see all the wonderful things Sweden has to offer and I make the most of them. And at the end of the day, Sweden is also just a country, and as such, imperfect, trying to deal with its own problems.
It always pains me to hear of Israelis who think life is so unbearable in Israel that they would like to leave. Naturally, I accept it; everyone has the right to their opinion. But growing up in the Diaspora and living in various countries proved only one thing to me: That however much I love spending time in different places and getting acquainted with the local culture and traditions, there is only one place where it's worth every challenge, every hardship and every new drop of sweat, and for me, that is Israel.
