Daily Life at Sde Boker

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"That is the Israelian technique," Miro bombasted in his pseudo-serious tone. Having been here for nearly five weeks now, and having been through the training process (aka being told what to do every five minutes), I can enjoy Miro's sense of humor with a smile on my face. Max, the newest volunteer, a 20 year old from Long Island, does not pick up on the subtle Israeli attempt at comedy. It's funny, only a few weeks ago I was beginning to think my only interactions with the Israelis would be responding to commands. Miro is exactly right though and he couldn't have said it any better--when Israelis feel that you are doing something incorrectly, too slowly, too fast, they let you know--immediately! That is the "Israelian technique."

I have really grown to like Miro and I would probably be the only volunteer to admit this. He's one of those guys who busts your balls all morning and then gives you a friendly pat on the back at the end of the work day. Many of the Israelis are like this but none to the extent of Miro. At first I found their way of giving orders and correcting you to be rude but now I understand it partially to be a problem of translation, but mostly a cultural difference. Having taught English, I know for a fact that the imperatives ("give me this," "pass me that") saves words and is an easier verb structure than what might be required to form a more polite exchange.

The major difference, however, is cultural. It's not only the volunteers that Israelis like to boss around. They like to do it to everyone. Let me give you an example. I will preface this by stating that I understand that there are certain methods and techniques that seem to work better than others when it comes to performing tasks in a chicken house. To the untrained observant, moving chickens from one side of the barn to the other takes no more than a bunch of idiots walking in a straight line, waving tarps wildly and kicking chickens sporadically. To me, the trained volunteer, I understand that there are certain commandments that must be adhered to. To the Israeli poultry workers, this procedure is as delicate as removing a brain tumor. One small misstep and the operation fails. It's a straight line or a flat line.

This procedure can sometimes take upwards of an hour and provides the Israeli men with the opportunity to show their true merit and value as King of the Coop. As one worker forges ahead of the line plunging into the sea of squaking chickens, another is quick to shout "Lo! Rega!" (No! Wait!). Depending on who has been working in the Lul longer, one man will finally concede to the other, either returning to the group or continuing ahead.

There is a chicken house hierarchy that all must accept. The volunteers, of course, are at the bottom of the pyramid. As a new volunteer you are subject to orders from anyone and everyone, including more experienced volunteers. We all work as a team so it is very important that everyone pulls their weight. Because we move from house to house performing a variety of different jobs, it takes about a month before you are comfortable completing just about any job. I am currently the longest tenured volunteer so I am kind of at the top of the ladder. It may sound like a silly designation but it really makes a difference for me--for the first time since I have been here, I really feel like I belong. You see, volunteers come and go all the time here and people come for all different reasons. Some volunteers hate it here--they bitch and complain until they leave, some to other kibbutzes, others home. Some are only here for a short time and don't really seem that interested in socializing or getting to know the Israeli way of life. Those who work hard, show up on time and genuinely seem happy to be here seem to be treated differently.

Just the other day Gal told me that the Israelis had been talking recently about how much they appreciate the work that I have been putting in and how I am the best chicken house volunteer many of them can remember. It really meant a lot to hear that from her. Yesterday, Tom asked me if I wouldn't mind bringing eggs and bread to work today. This allowed me to sleep an extra hour and when I arrived at Ovdat this morning Tom explained to me that I should consider this quite an honor. It might seem like a very small thing but volunteers are never asked to do this kind of thing. It means that I have gained the trust of my fellow kibbutzniks.

Back to the hierarchy--above the volunteers we have the members of the Gorin. These are Israelis that are in a special military program that allows them to combine kibbutz work with their military service. It seems like an awesome social opportunity. They arrive at Sde Boker as a unit--they live together, eat together and work together. They then enter the army together before again returning to Sde Boker. It is here that they forge lifelong friendships. Most of the people that I work with are in this program.

We also have Israelis that have finished their military service and have decided to live and work on the kibbutz for a salary. I have no idea how much they make. Gal and Tal fit into this category.

I am describing it as a hierarchy but I truly feel as though we are all equals here. They whole idea is that everyone puts in the same oamount of work. We do have specific people, however, in charge of each day's operation. Ed-dad is in charge of all the volunteers and Gorin. When any of us have questions about anything, we go to him. He is an awesome guy. He was a medic in the IDF and has been living at Sde Boker for about a year now. He truly embodies the spirit of kibbutz life and has told me many times how much he loves the peaceful way of life here. "It is very nice" is his favorite English phrase. I love the Israeli accent. "I am your boss at the chicken house but your friend afterward" he told us once. He is very good at his job and incredibly well liked.

Each chicken house has two bosses that are in charge of everything. El-dad reports to them. Some are young, some are old, some incredibly friendly, others distant.

So how does the schedule work around here? Well it changes everyday. There is a work schedule posted every evening in the dining hall indicating when and where you will be working the next day. Each chicken house serves a different purpose holding chickens of different ages.

Ovdat is where the youngest chickens are held. We don't hatch chickens here, they are delivered to us at a few weeks old. At Ovdat we immunize and de-beak the chickens. Holding their beaks up to a hot-plate might sound barbaric but the few seconds of pain required to flatten the sharp point of the beak saves the chickens from pecking one another to death in the future. Haroa is another chicken house and is home to the five week olds. It is at this stage that we begin hanging the chickens on the belt machine for immunizations. After moving the chickens from one side of the house (each holds anywhere form 10,000-20,000 chickens) we barricade the center of the building and begin herding the chickens into a circular gated area. Four to five workers are responsible for hanging each of the chickens in this area onto a "W" shaped hook on a rapidly moving oval-shaped belt. It is very hard work. Beginners bruise their knuckles, miss hooks, fumble chickens and generally slow down the process. I have come a very long way since my first week. I am now quite the chicken hanging expert--definitely resume material I think. "Well sir, I think my days hanging chickens in the Negev illustrate my hard work and determination."

One worker makes sure that the chickens are calm and that their legs are secure on the hooks before they enter the second stage on the belt. This is where 2-5 workers eagerly await the chickens with a syringe ready to inject the bastards with a variety of immunizations. I have only done this a few times--it is generally reserved for the most experienced poultry workers. The key is speed and precision. Injecting in the wrong location can be fatal to the bird. Rule number two, don't inject yourself! I am not exactly sure what happens if you do--some have told me you need to suck out the vaccine, others have told me that you need to go to the hospital. Manny (the always cheerful boss at Zin) told me that you get gangrene and might lose part of your hand. Oh, Manny! I hope you are kidding. You never know with Israelis. After the injections, the birds are separated into two groups (small and large) and fed accordingly after we are done. A typical day begins at 4:30 and ends around noon.

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Comments

[Edgar Navarro]

Sde Boker
Con Luisa!!! :D