Page 40 - Kol Bogrei Habonim - January 19

REMEMBERING…
CLIVE NOBLE
Even though I was only seven at the time, I
remember the events of 1947-48 clearly.
My parents had always been Zionists: In the ‘30s,
they had been involved in the Young Zionist
Movement, as had many of their brothers and
sisters. (Mum was one of nine; Dad one of four.)
The families were very close – so much so that
Mum and her two sisters married Dad and two of
his brothers. The family was very self-contained,
and my folks were cautious about mixing with
those 'not of the faith’. We lived in Streatham,
South London.
I remember my parent's excitement in 1947:
"Soon, we’ll have our own State, our own
country". I wasn't too sure what it all meant. I
knew I was different from the other children at my
local primary school; the only other Jewish kid
was an older cousin...
So, let's fast forward to May 1948: Something had
been mentioned at school about the War of
Independence, and one of my mates had boasted:
"Lots of Jews killed yesterday, but only one Arab
so far". It must have been in the early days of the
war. He went on about circumcision and what his
Dad said about Jews. This was my first experience
of antisemitism.
That evening, when my parents came home from
work, we talked about it: "Come on," my Dad
said, "We’re going round to see that boy and his
40
Dad". I wasn't too happy about it, but we went,
and the boy and his Dad both apologised.
Shortly after this, a Habonim group started in
South London, and I was encouraged to attend.
We were 6 Bonim, and the Madricha was an
elderly lady in her ‘40s. We sat in a circle, singing
songs, playing some silly games and talking about
collecting money for trees in Israel. It really was
not for me. The group split up a few weeks later,
and I was relieved. Those were my feelings at the
time.
Let’s keep this short: One day, eight years later,
when I was 17, I returned home from a table
tennis event at a youth club in the local church
hall. My folks had found out I had been going
there for some weeks and were angry. They said,
"You can't mix with them, they're not Jewish.
What you need is a Jewish youth club with an
interest in Israel." I remembered my short-lived
experience as a Boneh and I was not too
impressed.
Next, they called Habonim. Colin Primost
answered the phone, and Mum told him, "My son
wants to join Habonim. Where’s the nearest
meeting-place?" It was Eton Avenue, Swiss
Cottage. Reluctantly, I went, and was very
pleasantly surprised at the warmth and friendship
of the Chaverim.
…and the rest is history, for another time.