No longer an ‘olah chadashah,’ now I’m just an ‘olah’

In a post I wrote on Facebook, I said…

I’ve been trying to think for months about what to write today. How to explain the emotions. However, no words can really truly explain it. So instead I’ll explain briefly a question I have been asked constantly for the past 10 years…

Why? Why did I make aliyah?…

The 1st few years, I jokingly said ‘why not?’ but after a few years I’d gone through enough that that no longer made any sense. But the truth is, the real reason is just as difficult to put into words as it is to explain the feelings I’m having today, if u haven’t felt it, u just cant understand.

When I was almost 15, I went on a trip to Israel with my shul (synagogue). I’d been before but not old enough to remember, or not clearly. I remember when I landed there was this feeling. It was like a part of me that I never knew I had been missing, had reconnected. I knew then that one day I would make aliyah.

About a year and a half later, I went on another organised trip. I remember how hard I cried when leaving. It felt like I was leaving a part of me behind, and not knowing when I’d be back made it worse.

So the answer to ‘why?’ is simple,
כי בישראל, אני שלם

Israel is where my heart always has been, and always will be… for many more decades to come.

and whilst it is true that it was hard to put into words the feelings of making it 10 years I wanted to try to write a bit more and explain my journey to this point.

In that post I wrote about the ‘why’. But I didn’t write about the ‘how’.

How even before I made aliyah I was already being thrown challenges. How I learnt through fire and tons of mistakes…

Before making aliyah in 2014 I had been on a gap year in Israel in sem (seminary/מדרשה). I had made all the arrangements while there, the plan was to do sherut leumi (national service). I had my place ready and everything set. Then… The day I was to fly back to England to finish the arrangements needed there (like getting my stuff), I was told I no longer had a place in sherut leumi. Not in that organisation. There’s a few different organisations that help arrange sherut, but that one no longer would accept me. At that time, that one happens to be the best for olim. So losing that place was a massive setback. But there was no way I was going to let that stop me.

I’d waited long enough, 5 years, I wasn’t waiting a second longer. So I flew back home and for around a month I kept this secret from everyone. As far as anyone knew I was still doing sherut leumi and everything was good. I didn’t want anyone to have any chance to persuade me to wait, so I kept it a secret Until I had a new plan.

I don’t remember how I found it, I believe nefesh nefesh (the organisation that helps with the aliyah process). But I found a kibbutz ulpan program at Sde Eliyahu  that would give me what I would need. A solid home for the 1st 6 months.

Around the time that I was waiting to confirm if I had got into the program or not, my mum started to notice something was up. She took me out for lunch and managed to get it out of me. A week later my entire family knew.

It was a tense week till I found out if I’d gotten into the program. As expected, people tried to persuade me to wait. But I refused.

I remember how relieved I was when I finally got the yes.

One thing that people might not know is when you make aliyah you need a plan. Or… Need to convince them you have one. Or they won’t let you. So it was an intense month till I’d got that confirmation. And even then I had to try to figure out a way to make them think I had a plan for the rest of the year. 6 months wasn’t enough.

Unfortunately that wasn’t the only challenging part to my journey. But I’ll get to that…

I remember the day I landed. It was around 6 or 7 and I remember being so confused at how dark it was. I was expecting sun and walked out into darkness. In England summer is later than here, so I’d gotten used to nighttime being 9ish. ‎

I remember getting to the kibbutz and being greeted by the owner of the program as well as a few others who had also gotten there early. Then the next few days more came.

I made some awesome friends there. An amazing experience, so many new incredible memories, not much Hebrew . I left the ulpan with pretty much the same amount of Hebrew as I went in with, and that’s to say basically none. But the experience, that is something I’ll never forget.

Now, the next part of my journey is comical looking back. It makes me laugh at how naive and innocent I was.

After the ulpan finished, I moved to Ramat Bet Shemesh, the same place I had been during the year before in sem. it made sense right, I already knew people there and knew the city. But very quickly I had a sharp introduction into how gap year is not the same as living in Israel. I was alone and no longer in the bubbled safety of the program.

I hadn’t been to look at the place. Nor met the roommate. I believe we spoke on the phone, maybe video called. I trusted what I’d been told. And ended up in a one bedroom apartment with an older lady and well… Had a very sharp introduction to how important communication is when moving in with someone as well as checking where you’re going to be. Trusting and Israel don’t really make a great mix.

After about a few months there, I ended up being kicked out. Without much warning. Don’t think I had a contract like I said…. Naive.

Fortunately I made some friends there and they let me stay with them for a day or so till I figured what I’d do next. It was very close to my draft day (I believe 2 or 3 months off) so I managed to push to move into the Kibbutz early. Back then that could be done, but nowadays I don’t even think that sort of living arrangement exists anymore.

So for the next 2 and a bit years I lived in Kibbutz Ein Tzurim. The army gave me structure and taught me a ton of things about myself. It was a challenge for many reasons (that’s an entire story in and if itself) but I’m so happy I did it.

The army taught me the culture. The slang. It turned me from an oleh (immigrant) into an Israeli. I feel sorry for those who come later in life and don’t get that experience.

When people say to me ‘wow you made aliya at 19 that’s so brave’ or something similar to that. I don’t understand it. To me… It didn’t feel brave. Didn’t feel like a change. Or anything. Didn’t feel like all these things people were saying it was.

But when I look at new young olim, who are the same age as I was. I now understand. Looking at them… So young. So naive. So new to life. I honestly don’t know how. And looking back at all the challenges, it’s still kinda crazy to me to be here now. Without all the support I wouldn’t be here, and that took me a while to feel OK with.

I won’t go into too much after the army, because most of it is just depression and mental health.  Finding out I was autistic, figuring out adult life. There’s a lot of finding myself within that too. But most of it after that point was just normal life challenges. Making friends, creating a life here. Figuring out my identity.  Figuring out who I am.

Throughout the years people have constantly suggested I go back, but go back where? Sure my family is there. But my friends, my life, my entire adulthood has been in Israel. Friends often ask me for advice when they go to visit England and the truth is… I don’t know. I was a child when I was there; when I go back now, I’m just as much of a tourist as my non English friends, the only difference being I don’t need a visa or anything to go there. But over the years, things have changed so much there that it’s unrecognisable… Or maybe it’s just that I’ve changed.

I remember how it felt the 1st time I realised I no longer felt like I was going back, but that I was going on holiday. It was strange. It was close to my 3rd year in Israel and I was going back for a visit. And I realised that I felt like a tourist. Since then things have only gotten further away. And well now, I’ve lived in Israel more than 1/3 of my life.

I haven’t spoken much about the support I’ve gotten over the years, but it’s been a lot. From strangers, from family, from friends. I’d have never made it without that support. Or well… I would have but life would have been even more of a challenge than it was already.

Looking back over the 10 years, to that naive, innocent girl I used to be. Unaware of who I was and where I was going. I can see why people are amazed at it. But to me, it was just so obvious that it didn’t feel like a choice.

In some ways, a part of me has always wondered if it was. My name, Nehama Rivka, Is named after 2 of my great* grandmother’s who lived in Israel during the 1st aliya and then left. So in some ways, me being here, is bringing them back home.

My earliest memory of childhood, one of the only ones I have of early childhood, is when I was around 3 years old standing at the kotel and a bird pooped on me. Pretty sure it was on a new hat I’d got. My heart has always been in Israel. This has always been where my path was taking me. And to have made it past the 1st decade is just more than words can explain.

Before I made aliya I was told that no-one believed I’d make it, I believe the words that were said was ‘everyone is betting on when you’ll come back’. That stuck with me through the years and makes every single year feel like the biggest accomplishment. I think it was after my 5th year that I finally stopped listening to that voice that said maybe they were right.

So the answer to how I’ve made it this far, well I’m not quite sure, stubbornness, determination, and a lot of support and help from a bunch of different people. It would have been very different without that support, but I wont say that I wouldn’t have made it without it because when I made aliya I told people who doubted I’d make it, that I’d rather be here living on the streets or working in minimum wage jobs than live anywhere else. I’m very grateful I didn’t have to do that and thank everyone who helped me.

I may have come here alone, with only a few non-immediate family here. I’ve never felt alone here, because we support each other. My life is here now, and nothing is going to change that.