On a beautiful evening-it must have been about ten years ago-Rachel Siegel and I arrived by car at Camp Kvutza. We were met by the advance crew of a few boys. The camp consisted of a hilltop cluttered with tents which had obviously seen better days in the army. We also found some boards for the future kitchen, a few boxes of cups (without handles), and dishes (slightly cracked), salvaged from Unser Camp for whose guests they were not deemed worthy. We were most impressed with the big, old farmer's stove, and the old Ford that we were barely able to purchase for $10. Our status as property owners was made complete when we obtained from a friendly storekeeper a prehistoric ice cream container that was to serve as our "refrigerator."
One of the advance crew was Hayim Rambam. For the stormy nature of this boy, the walls of his home, even in early childhood, and the discipline of a school, had proved too stifling. He was drawn to the broad, open fields-the sort of boy that can develop into a hero or an adventurer. He had a leader's qualities and could influence people either for better or worse. On closer acquaintance, you learned that a few warm friendly words could easily quell the storm raging in him.
I well remember the delightful evenings and sunsets in the camp which were so inspiring. Tired after a day of hard work, Hayim could be found on one of the cots in the tent. We knew then that he was moody and ready to tell stories of his adventures throughout the United States. He used to spend many days and nights with hoboes and his stories were remarkable. We saw a different world, people who were tired of civilization and routine. They felt free as birds and so did Hayim. He was an adventurer, always seeking new thrills and experiences. Once he admitted to me that only because of the deep love for his father, he gave up that kind of life and returned home. And many a time I thought that perhaps Hayim may turn out to be another Jack London.
Hayim was the driver of the Ford on which we depended for supplies from the nearby town and water from the well. He was also our "life saver," to whom many campers literally owed their lives.
Incidents of that summer keep coming to mind.
Here we are, Hayim and I, riding in the Ford. The Ford that had not the least desire to climb the smallest hill, that constantly refused to get back to camp on time, becausd of whose caprices we always had to bring along a couple of "footmen" to help push when the inevitable need arose, was an obedient, willing servant in Hayim's skillful hands. I am sure that it was solely to Hayim's credit that we came away that summer sound in limb.
Towards the end of the summer, a hurricane suddenly pounced upon us, destroying many houses in the neighborhood and flooding all the valleys. Our ancient army tents, whose mission in life should long since have ended-in which we have to cover ourselves with raincoats even during a light downpour-bowed meekly before the wrath of the storm and finally surrendered completely. We all gathered in our one "building," squatting on the tables with only a roof overhead while the torrent of rain drenched us through the open sides. We felt that the very foundation of our camp would not survive that night, so we decided for safety's sake to make our way to a nearby boarding house. How well I remember that procession in the thick blackness, without a path to follow, knee-deep in water, lashed by the wind 1
It was one of those moments when old and young display all their shortcomings and weaknesses and, on the other hand, when a person may forget about and sacrifice himself for the general welfare. Hayim showed himself to be the second sort of person.
The work in Camp Kvutza became a form of training for Hayim, and he hoped to obtain a certificate to go to Eretz Yisrael. When he did not receive a certificate, he went on his own.
I did not see him for a long time after that but heard he was employed as a tractor driver in Mikveh Yisrael. In the meantime, I also went to Eretz Yisrael and settled in Jerusalem with my husband. Suddenly, Hayim showed up in Jersualem during a holiday. He was much changed-more mature, less restless, more serious in outlook. It was clear that Eretz Yisrael had had a marked effect upon him. He dreamed of participating in the defense of the country . . .
But a month later he was dead. While working in the fields, under the hot sun, he drank from a spring he did not know was contaminated. It did not occur to him that tiny microbes would conquer his powerful body and quiet his stormy nature for eternity.
Leak Brown
Haboneh June, 1942