LETTER
FROM ISRAEL
Viv Quarry (www.vivquarry.com)
Most people who head to Israel in search of a working holiday arrive with the intention of settling on a Kibbutz. These are communal, socialistic units in which all the land and tools necessary for production are shared by the members, as is everything earned by the labour of the workers (after tax). There are around 250 Kibbutzim that accept volunteers from all over the world, for varying lengths of time (preferably more than six weeks). In exchange for the volunteer's labour, the Kibbutz provides food, accommodation and the social services for virtually all their personal needs.
For someone arriving in Israel with a reasonable holiday budget, a Kibbutz is an ideal way of experiencing a different culture and climate, with the opportunity to make international friends and enjoy a buoyant social life.
I arrived in Israel from Greece with no more than £20, so a Kibbutz, with its pocket money of around £12 per month was not a practical proposition. I wanted to earn the money to enable me to enjoy life on a beach for a few weeks before returning to Europe. So I applied for a place on a Moshav instead. There are more than 325 Moshavim in Israel, which are smallholder settlements based upon individual initiative and profit; also mutual aid and co-operation. The land is leased by the state - an equal area to each family - but it's up to the individual farmer to decide what he shall grow, the hours to be worked, and how many volunteers to employ.
I am at the Moshav Idan in the Negev desert, south of the Dead Sea, and a few miles from the Jordanian border. The working day starts at 6.30am, picking tomatoes, peppers and onions for between 8 and 12 hours a day, six days a week. We are paid the equivalent in Shekels of approximately £120 a month. With one other volunteer, I work for a farmer who expects hard work but treats us fairly. Altogether there are about 75 volunteers, and we have credit at the Moshav shop which is deducted from the wages at the end of the month.
We work in a sandy, dry river bed where, without human ingenuity, nothing but the hardiest scrub would grow. The crops are irrigated through miles of sprinkler pipes, with water up from underground and phosphates added. The amounts of water and fertilizer distributed are automatically controlled by computer. Later on in the year melons will be harvested, and now the young plants are protected by many acres of plastic cloches laid in hundred metre strips. The monotony of picking tomatoes for 8 hours, with only a half-hour break, is compensated for, to some degree, by the incredible beauty of the desert at sunset as the tractor drives us back to the moshav after a hard day in the fields.
It is winter now, but for 95% of my time here the temperature at mid-day has been in the upper 70s. In summer it is only possible to work before 9am and after 5pm.
The social life on a moshav is not a varied as on a kibbutz, mainly because getting up for work at 6am becomes a strain after a few late nights drinking with friends! I was here three weeks before I managed to get eight hours sleep. The bar is in an air raid shelter, and once a week there is a disco where the volunteers can let off steam. We officially get two days off per month, although most farmers are flexible, especially if a volunteer plans to stay for longer than two months.
I have no regrets about coming to a moshav; I have been able to learn about Israeli culture and traditions at first hand, and taste delicious home cooking when the farmer invites his volunteers to eat with his family once a week. For me Israel is a country with a pleasant (if varied) climate, hospitable people, and vibrant history. I would recommend it to anyone wanting a winter in the sun, but who doesn't mind hard work!
Author's note:
This article was written for and published by a local magazine, near Viv's family house in England, called 'The Priston & Farmborough Link' (edited by Viv's mum). Viv was in Israel before the 'Intifada' (Palestinian uprising), and so many things will have changed since he was there.