Another Thing About Ketura:

Last weekend we went to visit Ketura for the third time since we moved to Reut.
It was very nice to see friends again and to spend a Shabbat (Jewish Sabbath)resting and soaking up the atmosphere. Shabbat on Ketura is very relaxing. The weather cooperated and we had a wonderful winter day in the desert.
We barely saw our two boys-they had a full schedule visiting all of their friends. Even Zoe, our 2 1/2 year old managed to spend time with some of her old playmates. My wife, Joyce mentioned that she would like to come back because she missed her friends. Joyce did manage to create close bonds with several of the women there.
While I found the trip pleasant, our third time there since saying no thank you to joining the kibbutz, drilled into me more than ever that it was the right decision short and long term for the family. There are several reasons for this: one is that Ketura is a society that has an incredible underlying tension in it. And of course it has to do with finances. There is a significant minority of veteran members who want more money in their pocket and are agitating to get that, however, economically, the kibbutz is just not up to rearranging the structure of stipends and benefits to enable this to happen. Some members are ideologically opposed to it as well-they oppose any move to move the kibbutz away from its communal origons and their creedo: Everybody according to their ability, everybody according to their need. Not that this is necessarily what everybody lives by either. Although incredible lip service is paid to this motto.
There is also an incredible societal tension between the haves and have-nots. The haves are those that have some sort of outside income, whether its investments or subsidy by generous parents. The have-nots are actually those who have to rely soley on the kibbutz for all of their wants and needs. Strange isn't it- you would think that the ones who are able to live the ideological lifestyle would be the haves. Aren't they afterall living according to their ideals and the fullest kibbutz lifestyle, which isn't supposed to be ostentatious? Oh, and yes, the ones with some outside source of income are not really supposed to be using it to supplement their lifestyle, but let's be realistic. It happens. For instance several kibbutz members take an annual trip abroad to visit family and/or vacation. The have not's are given a trip once every four years to visit their family abroad. During the three years we lived there this tension increased, and the problem hasn't abated. I didn't want to become a part of this battle especially since our resources were extremely limited and dwindling. There was a good chance we would have become one of the have nots.
Another reason, is that each time I go back there I realize, yet again, just how insular and closed kibbutz society is. Ketura has seemed to make it work and succeed, despite all of the problems they have (although, as I alluded to in the upper paragraph, its is slowly but surely breaking apart). That being said, in order to truly become a successful part of that community you really and truly have to change your way of thinking. Your worldview has to become kibbutznik. Living, working, sharing finances, having what you and your children eat decided by committee has to become natural for you, and the way we, the 99.999 percent of the world live, has to become, somehow, not natural. Since we never became members we were never a part of their club (almost but not quite), and since we moved away to the outside we are, as welcome as our visits are, not of their mindset.
It's just as well I suppose. Our first six months out of Ketura have been a little rough, but it is getting better every day. We belong with the 99.999 percent. It's the natural way to live.

Kibbutz Memories:
When we lived in Miami we held on to our child’s hand tightly whenever we went out. As soon as they were old enough we taught them to hold Mommy or Daddy’s hand and to always keep us in sight and to never ever wander off.
All playtime was supervised. If you took your child to a park or a playground, you watched as they played. You stood guard. The rule was you didn’t let your child out of your line of sight, and if for a moment you did happen to get distracted and you couldn’t see your child - you immediately subdue that instant rise of panic and fear - you get up and walk around, trying to locate him by line of sight before resorting to calling for him in an ever rising worried voice.
So it was quite a shock when we arrived at Kibbutz Ketura to see how much freedom, even the three, four, five year olds had, and how much the parents gave them. There were children everywhere: riding bicycles, running, shouting, playing soccer, basketball, going in and out of peoples houses. Both my wife and I were quite taken aback and yet my children, 3 and 4 year old boys (at the time), took to it immediately. Almost too easily.
It was far easier for them to let go of our hands then it was for us to let go of theirs. For several weeks after our arrival I would feel that old sense of panic if I didn’t know where they were or if I couldn’t see them. We could feel in a way, them escaping from our hold. At dinner in the dinning hall we would be lucky if we could get one or two bites into them because they were in such a hurry to leave the table and go outside and play. Even after being on kibbutz for three years we still had that problem.
We knew within our first few days on Ketura we had to teach our children new boundaries. This was drilled into us when just a day or two after our arrival, our oldest son Adar, got up before everyone else, put on his clothes and walked to the row of houses in front of ours and entered the house of a four year old boy he had upon arrival. The other boys mother later told us that Adar walked to her son’s room, saw that he was still asleep so Adar went into the living room and sat down. The Mother, who was in the bathroom at the time, heard a bit of commotion, and called out hello. Adar answered: “I’m here.”
In the meantime, I had woken up and went in to look at our children and saw that Adar wasn’t there. Kibbutz houses are very small so it only took a few seconds to see that he wasn’t anywhere in our house. I felt that rising panic, uncontrollable and irrational and came to the immediate (rational) conclusion that he had been kidnapped. Somebody came into our house in the middle of the night and took our oldest boy. Then something told me to stop, go outside and check at Omer’s house, Adar’s new friend, and sure enough there he was, sitting on the couch, thumb in his mouth.
It probably took a good half-year before we became more settled with their new freedom and they became used to it also. Confined to the limitations of apartment living, our children burst forth, becoming bundles of energy racing around the kibbutz, tiny rockets that couldn’t be stopped. Although at times frustrating when we had to try and rein them in, I appreciated the fact that they were able to laugh and play and run around to their hearts content.
Although it still bothered me the few times that I couldn’t find them. In fact, it became one of the major criticisms I had of the kibbutz-yes the children had much more freedom there. Yes, it was much safer when compared to living in the city. However, kibbutz was still not a 100% safe environment and there definitely as an atmosphere of complacency and at time neglect when it came to the safety and welfare of the children.
In many of my conversations with parents on kibbutz they rarely acknowledged this or took it as a fact of kibbutz life.
That is why I am pleased with our decision to move to Reut. It is a community of duplex houses and paths and, at least, some quiet streets. Our children have many friends and as time passes and they learn how to conduct themselves in the city, we are giving them more and more freedom. Adar and Nadav, now aged 7 and 6, go to friend’s houses that are one to two blocks away. As they get older, their territory will, of course, expand.
We will teach them how to conduct themselves as children in the society at large. I came to believe that they should not be raised in a bubble. Yes, society does have its dangers. This morning’s newspaper had an article about a father who was sitting on his apartment balcony watching his seven year old daughter play in the public playground next to their building. He noticed a man approach his daughter and offer her candy. The father rushed out of his apartment, flew down the stairs to the playground to find his daughter missing. Thank god he found the two a minute or two later-the stranger with his pants open trying to convince the father’s daughter to let him take pictures of her.
Some might say that this is an argument for raising your child in a more protective environment. I came to the conclusion that this could also very well happen on kibbutz. Ketura was not a 100% closed environment; people came in and out of the place all the time. There was a guesthouse; there were students, etc. No place is safe. What you can do is, as this father was, be watchful, be attentive, and educate your children about strangers and their motiv