Page 11 - Iton 10

convenient because we could walk together to our meetings in Habonim to which we both belonged. Sadly be
'dropped out' after becoming a communist. He survived the Holocaust and returned to Cluj where he became
a journalist writing for the Hungarian papers. He was the only one of us who remains there. But to return to
the subject of our sexual education, the fact is that despite our enlightened debates on sexual equality in the
ideal society we intended to build, the subject remained theoretical, at least for me.

…In Habonim theories on the subject of sexual freedom were part of the revolutionary agenda we debated,
but they tended to remain just that, theories. In fact we shared a tacit assumption that before our aliyah, or
at least before hachsharah, when we achieved independence from parental authority, sexual relations would
remain on hold. In retrospect I recognise that this consensus, which we claimed to have reached on
ideological grounds, coincided entirely with the inhibitions about sex which had been instilled in us from early
childhood.

…In September the three of us returned to school. Not far away, Hitler occupied Czechoslovakia. The radio
sounded menacing and life, still carried on as usual. Then, in the spring of 1939, something happened which
abruptly propelled my life forward. One day, after returning from school, I received a telephone call from
one of the senior chaverim. His voice, demanding that I join them immediately, sounded urgent. When I got to
our usual meeting place I was told, to my astonishment, that I was about to be interviewed by Akiva a shaliach
from Ben Shemen an agricultural boarding school in Eretz Yisrael. Apparently, he had in his possession twenty
emigration certificates for suitable candidates from the various Zionist youth movement in Rumania. I can't
remember how many of them came our way, perhaps ten, but to my astonishment I turned out to be one of
the chosen.

The news threw my poor parents into a quandary, and panic. Which was safer? To keep me by their side or, to
let me go? Both alternatives seemed equally dangerous. But when I informed them that they were expected
to pay a hefty school fee, Father sounded both relieved and regretful: 'Darling, I can't afford such a sum.'
But then, after a moment's hesitation, he added, 'Of course, there is your inheritance from Grandfather.'
His voice reluctant, he added: 'Grandfather would have probably approved.' I knew that Grandfather had left
me some money but until that moment it meant nothing to me. I struggled to take it in: 'You mean I can use
my inheritance to pay the school fees?'He reluctantly admitted that I could, provided that my eldest uncle,
Jozsi, the executor of grandfather's will, agreed to it. I didn't hesitate. That very afternoon I took the
train to Uioara where Uncle Jozsi was now running the mill. By the time I arrived he had discussed the matter
on the phone with my father. He heard me out patiently and without further ado, agreed to release enough
funds to cover the fees required by our school Ben Shemen. I returned home, my head spinning, but
triumphant.

But the date of our departure dragged on, due to various obstacles, including the difficulty of finding a
suitable ship to take us from the port of Constanza (on the Black Sea) to Haifa. On the 3rd of September
1939, England declared war on Germany and the Second World War began. For a while the whole thing looked
hopeless. Then, quite suddenly, everything fell into place, and we were told we would sail in the last week of
December. The intervening weeks remain a blur. I was seized in a whirlwind of preparations. A dressmaker
came daily to sew the wardrobe required by the school. (When I got to Ben Shemen, the housemother
unpacking my clothes decreed sourly, that my wardrobe of beautiful poplin shirts, elegant shorts — in fact
everything that my mother had so lovingly prepared — was 'much too luxurious for 'our sort of life'. So most
of it was packed away in the giant wicker packing case in which it came, and remained there until I left the
school.) I said goodbye to my family in Ludus and Uioara, I parted from my Jewish schoolmates — most of
whom were to perish in Auschwitz — and said l'hitraot to the chaverim who were to follow later. The parting
from my father, and my little brothers — even now, after sixty-five years — is still too painful to think
about. Then my mother and I travelled by train to the port of Constanza where our group was to assemble. At
the moment of departure my friends and I lined up on the deck of our ship to wave farewell to our parents
who stood on the quay. I went on waving until, at last, the figure of my mother grew dim and it finally came to

me that I was leaving them all behind.