Yesterday we joined the “breakfast club” and ate at a table beside the five men who the store owner Kathy calls the “hardcore” members. The “hardcore” group proposed the idea of the breakfast after the dining room closed. They had enjoyed long breakfasts there for years, and wanted to continue their tradition. Kathy obliged, and every morning, at 8:30, a spread of vegetables, eggs, cheese and bread is set for them to feast upon. Other men who have joined the club, arrive later in the morning to eat.
The routine intrigued us, especially as the men each made their version of Israeli salad. Tomato and cucumbers served as the base for all, but some added olive oil and lemon juice, and others added eggs and cottage cheese to the mix. One man’s bare feet were bleeding profusely onto the stone patio as he ate, but he didn’t seem to notice. Another man arrived at the table covered from head to toe in dirt, seemingly unconcerned with the cleanliness of his hands before digging into the shared basket of vegetables and bread.
The men all knew of Ben’s parents — Leah who grew up in the Kibbutz, and Peter who traveled to the Kibbutz from Wales to work as a volunteer. “Can you drink like your father?”, they asked Ben, proceeding to tell stories of the debauchery of their youth. A woman who worked in the market joined in the conversation, saying she remembered wiping Ben’s “bottom” when he was a baby in the Kibbutz.
Babies are cared for in communal houses staffed by kibbutz members. In the past, children of all ages slept in these communal homes overnight. But the policy changed after parents complained about wanting to be closer to their children, especially when bombs were dropping during the Six Day War.
Later in the afternoon we went to the kibbutz museum to sift through old pictures. The museum curator said we could use the pictures in our film free of charge. We were thrilled because most stock footage and photographs come with a hefty licensing fee. We do not yet know how the pictures will be used in the film, but we think they could be helpful in illustrating the changing kibbutz.
In the early evening we took Safta’s electric cart around the kibbutz security road to get some scenic shots of the surrounding area. It’s meant for transporting old people around the kibbutz, but it drives so smoothly that it worked quite well as a makeshift dolly. The hills and fields look beautiful at sunset, so at least we know that our film will have some nice shots in it. We shot some scenes of an old military watch tower, one of many around the kibbutz.
As we were filming, we heard some whinnying coming from outside the kibbutz security fence. We walked toward the noise, found an open gate in the fence and followed it to a small pen with a gorgeous horse in it. It was running around in circles, but would occasionally come up to us and stick its head out to make contact. It seemed frustrated in it’s captivity. In the orange glow of the setting sun the scene was magical, and we promptly captured it on film.
That same night after dinner, we followed Leah (Ben’s mom) through the kibbutz to see an area where some old chicken coops had been remodeled and re-purposed as art galleries. We were just going along for a nice stroll and so we didn’t bring along our camera gear. But as often happens in life, and especially in documentary film-making, we ended up missing some cinematic gold.
Out of the darkness we saw two yellow beams of light and heard a familiar South African accented voice cutting through the night. A club car (souped up golf car) stopped in front of us and out popped Francois “Frankie”, an old friend of Ben’s parents. Wearing a tank top and funky colored swimming trunks that can only be described as hideous, Frankie proclaimed “How do you like my new clothes?” We found out later that Frankie (claims) has never purchased new clothes while living in the kibbutz. He just wears old clothes that he finds left behind in apartments, or that are given to him from his “connections” at the hotel, when guests leave belongings behind.
Frankie was a volunteer in the kibbutz along with Ben’s dad, and also ended up marrying a kibbutznik, but he never left. He works as a general carpenter/Mr. fix-it, repairing and painting apartments. He also built the kibbutz and hotel bar without buying a single new piece of material. He uses wood and objects he finds around the kibbutz, and prides himself on not having to purchase raw materials. He is definitely an artist in his own right.
Frankie was apparently on his way to find us to help fix our broken stove. So we went with him to his “junk pile” to find a new oven. The “junk pile” is a huge collection of old items that Frankie has found all around the kibbutz. Tables, chairs, TV’s, lamps, beds, wood, ovens, and shoes are all stored in a small building that used to be the kibbutz market. Frankie searched through the storage room for a few moments and then pointed out a small table top oven. “It works… last night I put some chicken in it and left it for three hours, and it was done” he said. This was our new stove. Frankie also offered us some new lounge chairs and grabbed a new phone for our apartment, because the kawasaki ninja replica phone he already gave us wasn’t working. On the way out of the room, he pointed to some old flip flops and said “you want those — just came in today!”
If only we had our camera with us. In those few minutes of the twilight zone we would have captured something unique and hilarious about both Frankie and the kibbutz. Even though the moment was lost, we instantly knew we had found a valuable character. That night we went to his house for some coffee and filmed him for about 20 minutes talking about first coming to the kibbutz. The interview was a far cry from the earlier scene, but at least we got a taste of his character, and hopefully we can capture something more interesting when we follow him around one day while he works.
