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Shaul and Yehudit, my uncle and aunt, were among the founders of Kibbutz Manara
in 1943. The kibbutz was located in an illogical position - perched 880 meters
above sea level, with the sheer, 800-meter cliff of Ramim on one side and the
Lebanese border on the other. It was a national necessity and would allow the
future State of Israel to defend the Galilee panhandle. For my aunt and uncle,
who had made aliyah from Germany in 1933, and the other members of their
settlement group, this was reason enough to go and live on top of a barren,
windswept hill.
Shaul was the kibbutz driver. For the kibbutz's first five
years, Shaul hauled water from Metulla, driving his horse-drawn water carriage
along the only route that that led up to the kibbutz - the road through Lebanon.
During the war in 1948, the roadless kibbutz was isolated and surrounded by Arab
irregulars and the Lebanese army. The kibbutz members refused to evacuate, though the
children, including my two cousins, were taken down the cliff to safety, on the
backs of the kibbutz members, in a harrowing night march.
When a road finally was paved to the kibbutz, after the
establishment of the State of Israel, Shaul progressed from a carriage to a
truck. Every week, he hauled the carp from the kibbutz fishponds to the Tel Aviv
market, in a huge water tank on the truck. Every week, he used to show up at our
home outside Tel Aviv with his exciting truck full of live fish.
Yehudit worked in the kibbutz clothes room - procuring,
mending, and taking care of the clothing needs of the kibbutz. In the 1960s, the
kibbutz movement sent her to Tel Aviv to manage the central kibbutz clothing
store.
I spend the holidays of my youth at Manara, living with my
cousins in the children's house and later working with Mendel the herdsman,
grazing the kibbutz cattle on the fields along the Lebanese border.
My Manara relatives are typical Galileans - muscular,
strong-willed, stubborn Jewish farmers. Manara, isolated on top of its mountain,
has borne the brunt of attack, bombardment, katyusha rockets, wars, economic
difficulties, lack of water, land, and means of livelihood. But, nevertheless,
they have created a beautiful home, overlooking the mountains and valleys of
Lebanon, the Hula Valley, the Golan Heights, and the mountains of Galilee.
Yehudit passed away a few years ago. My mother died two
years ago. They are buried, side by side, in the kibbutz cemetery, secluded in a
clearing in the forest on top of the cliff.
This issue is dedicated to all the people who love the
Galilee, especially my aunt and mother. May they finally find peace in the land
that they loved so much.
Yadin Roman
Introduction to the Galilee Issue
January 2007
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