Exodus - Leon Uris [148]
The kibbutz movement, that unique child of necessity, became the key to all settlement. The kibbutzim could absorb vast numbers of new arrivals.
Yet not everyone could adapt to life on a kibbutz. Many women who fought for their independence didn’t like it once they had it. Others objected to the lack of privacy and others to the children’s houses. Although the entire Yishuv subscribed to the idea of national land and the conquest of self-labor, the main reason some could not stand kibbutz life was the lack of personal identification with a piece of land one could call one’s own. A splinter group broke off from the kibbutz movement. It was called the moshav movement. In a moshav each man had his own piece of land to work and his own house instead of the communal arrangement. As on the kibbutz all the civic functions were centrally run and all the heavy machinery was owned by the entire moshav. Certain base crops were farmed by the entire community and there was a central agency which did all the marketing and purchasing.
The main difference was the measure of individual freedom and the fact that a man’s family was in his own house and he ran his own farm in the way he saw fit. The first moshav was in the Jezreel Valley and was named after its Biblical site, Nahalal, the Heritage. The Nahalal pioneers faced the toughest swamp and did a miraculous job of redemption.
The drawback of the moshav movement in the over-all scheme was the working for personal profit and the inability of the moshav to absorb the numbers of new arrivals the kibbutz could; but both movements flourished and grew.
As the Yishuv grew, so did the complexities of the community. Barak Ben Canaan, a respected elder citizen, was never at rest. Zionism had a bulky machinery and there were a dozen different political philosophies inside the Yishuv. The dealings with the Arabs became more delicate after the riots and the dealings with the British became more confusing after their sudden departure from the Balfour Declaration and the articles of mandate. Barak’s wise council was sought in every quarter. Although there were no more outbreaks against the Jews, the atmosphere was one of uneasy calm. Every day there was a new story of an ambush, a sniping, or a theft. The tirades from the Moslem pulpit never ended. There was always tension in the air, for the sinister Mufti, Haj Amin el Husseini, lurked in the shadows.
One day in 1924 Barak returned to Tel Aviv after a particularly difficult week at the Yishuv Central in Jerusalem. He was always happy to come home to his three-room flat on Hayarkon Street overlooking the Mediterranean. This time he was delighted and surprised to see his old friend, Kammal, the muktar of Abu Yesha, awaiting him.
“For many years I have been meditating to try to solve the perplexing riddle of how to help my people. It grieves me to say this but there are no greater exploiters than the Arab effendis. They do not want things better for the fellaheen ... it may endanger their own pleasures.”
Barak listened intently. This was a tremendous confession on the part of an Arab and one so enlightened as Kammal.
“I have watched the Jews come back and perform miracles on the land. We have nothing in common in religion or language or outlook. I am not even sure the Jews will not eventually take all the land. Yet ... the Jews are the only salvation for the Arab people. The Jews are the only ones in a thousand years who have brought light to this part of the world.”
“I know this is difficult for you to say, Kammal ...”
“Let me continue, please. If we can live side by side in peace although our worlds are far apart then we must eventually prosper from what you have done. I see no other way for the