The Bicycle Boy

Even after visiting his son a few times and becoming acquainted with the life style and dress code of the kibbutz, he again arrived in an elegant suit, a tie, a grey felt hat with a black band around it, wearing two toned British shoes and with a flower in his lapel. Abu El-Wazir, like a high ranking official, no less, refused to adapt to the khaki fashion; he adhered to the kind of suits that immigrants arrived in and came to the kibbutz like a patriarch out of the old world into the very heart of the new revolutionary world. From the pocket of his waistcoat he pulled out a watch attached to it by a golden chain, opened the lid, glanced at the dials, returned the watch to its place and continued to walk about the grounds like someone visiting one of his estates.

These visits embarrassed Nuri. He knew very well what the kibbutz members and their children thought of his father and his apparel. There were times he was proud of him, but mostly felt ashamed, and as if the apparel wasn’t enough, his father would softly sing Arabic melodies that played in his soul, spoke Arabic to him in this place where Hebrew was revered and where it was demanded of all to put their mother tongue and its culture behind them and adapt to the new Israeli culture. The patriarch walked around the grounds rolling prayer beads between his fingers behind his back like a representative of...