Last Thoughts on Being Gizbar
by
Mat Tonti

In the spring of my 21st year, I found myself sitting on the mirpeset of my
apartment in Rechavia, a very well to do neighborhood in Jerusalem. It was
a beautiful spring day. Birds were singing, strands of Hebrew drifted up
from the street as neighbors passed each other. I, along with several
other Habo's had been attending the Hebrew University Oversees program (
Hebrew High to those who have participated), and were living the good life.
Classes were fairly easy, and few in numbers. Much time was spent hanging
out, and sampling the many treats that Jerusalem had to offer. On weekends
( which for some was a majority of the week), we did tiyulim, visited
Kibbutz, or visited Jerusalem's various hot spots. We were poor, but life
was good.
It was on that mirpeset that I decided that returning to University had
less than any appeal to me. I had done a year and a half at the University
of Wisconsin, perhaps the coldest place that I have ever been, and then a
half a year at Hebrew U. College was interesting, but I felt no focus, and
didn't want to be wasting my parents money any further.
I have, ever since I can remember, wanted to work in the Central Office.
When I first discovered that there was something more than just my
Machaneh ( Oy-a Mosh, you look so good to me), and that there were these
freaky people that worked and lived in New York, running the movement on a
national level, I just thought that it was the coolest job imaginable:
Traveling around to the different Movement events, going to Israel, living in New
York, hanging with the Workshop and MBI in the airport before they
embarked on their respective journeys. It sounded like magic.
And so I made the call. I spoke to the Mazkirut, and asked if there was
anything open. As luck would have it, the Gizbarit, Jesse Baden, was
finishing her term, and the office was looking for a replacement. The job
was explained to me: logistics, money, organization, flights for kids,
seminar sites, loans, record keeping, detail oriented-work. None of these
things had been taught to me while I was in Habonim. I had been trained in
the ways of Communal Socialism, and now I was being asked to be the
Capitalist. With much anxiety and excitement, I took the job.
So it's been going on two years now that I've been doing this job. In the
last two years, I've learned how to build and run a budget, plan a seminar,
cash checks for $10,000, and then carry it back from the bank to the
office. I've learned the in's and out's of logistics, and spent WAY too
much time in airports.( I haven't tallied the final number, but I would
guess something like 48 hours total over two years. WAY too much time.) I
learned more than I've ever wanted to know about accounting, taxes, wacky
parents, merchandising, and large unnamed corporations that can all bite me
in the tush.

It's been hard work all along the way. We are proudly a youth movement,
which is one of our strongest qualities. But there is a price to pay, and
that price is experience. The reputation that Habonim has, especially that
of the Central Office, of being disorganized is mostly due to the fact that
the entire office changes its personal every couple of years. There are
records of what has happened in the past, but there is no collective
memory. Policies that have been handed down from generation to
generation. Each incoming person gets a training period with their
predecessor, but after that is over, each person is on their own. I
essentially learned how to do my job as I did it. It was sink or swim.
There were a few months in the very beginning where I had a headache every
day after work from thinking so hard, trying to figure out what the hell I
was supposed to do. After two years of doing this, I'm FINALLY feeling
that I know what's going on. Of course, just as the comfort is setting in,
it's time for me to ske-daddle, and for a new person to come in and try and
figure out what's going on. Like I said, it's a price to pay, and while it
makes the lives of us in the Central Office all the harder, it is WORTH IT!
I've seen how other youth movements are run, and while they are indeed
geared toward the youngin's, it's run by adults. We are, for better or
worse, lead by those who were once Chanichim. Not to say we couldn't get
by without the considerable help by the elders. The Camp Committee's exist
so that we can do our job as a Movement. But the direction, the content,
the feel, and the SOUL of Habonim Dror comes from the youth that run it,
and the youth that participate in it.
Like I said, it's been a big challenge working in the office, but DAMN it's
been FUN! We make our own hours, wear what we want to work, work without
the hierarchy of every other job out there. All office work aside, I've
traveled to Israel, participated in numerous Fall and Spring seminars,
traveled to every Machaneh within one summer ( a dream within a dream),
hung out with every different Habo that came through the city?My apartment,
for example, has been passed down from Habo hand to Habo hand for the last
9 years. While I lived there, we've had upwards of 100 guests stay with us
over the past year ( each visitor documented in the Baiyt guest
book). I've hosted Habo's from Canada, Australia, Israel, South Africa,
and Britain. Pretty good for an international hostel.
The Mazkirut has taken numerous road trips, held numerous seminars. In
fact, the place that Winter Seminar was held my first year in the office
was the same as when I attended my first Winter Seminar. Ah, how the
circle completes itself. To top it all off, there is a potluck Shabbat
dinner every Friday night, for any local Habo's that want to attend.
And did I mention that New York rocks? It's fabulous. Music, excitement,
people from every walks of life, movies being filmed on every other block.
It's overwhelming.

That's it really. It's been a dream come true. After getting so much
from so many different people during my years growing up in the Movement, I
can honestly say I gave back, and loved most every minute of it. So for
all you aspiring Gizbarot and Gizbarim, I encourage you to give it a shot,
cause it is ONE WILD RIDE!

Mat Tonti, Gizbar Tnua
March 29, 1999.