The Kibbutz

Part 1: Surprises are abound

It was another day in Milan, Italy, just a few days before the start of a new year, 1938. About me, I was born and raised until now in the north of Milan in a Christian neighborhood to a Jewish family. I am 12 years old, and my name is "Or", "Or Calo". Yes, Or is my name, a Jewish name but not common. I have short brown hair. In my view, if there is one thing, I look at first, it's the hair, it's the first acquaintance with a person after their face. I look pretty, I think I look quite pretty. I even heard that one of the girls in my school has a little of a crush on me. But that doesn't contradict the fact that I don't have many friends at school. I am a Jew in a Christian school.

My mom wanted me to connect with my Christian neighbors, despite the difference between us. For my mother, it was important to her that I would have a good relationship with my neighborhood kids. Not like My mom. She is a strong woman. My mom no longer talks to her large family with twelve siblings. My mom was a traditional Jew, they found for her a match with a 30-year-old man. But my mom had different plans. She wanted to marry the man who is now my dad, Elise. She fought with them for an entire year, and in the end, she decided to start a new life without them and became a free Jew. But she taught herself to stand on her own, and today she and my dad run a phenomenally successful clothing business.

In any case, I was a lonely Jew. I hardly ever met Jews except my family, and occasionally at unique events. That's how my life was, but I had one friend named "Mano". But not once or twice do I hear him defame Jews in the school corridors. how they are dirty, greedy, and bloodsuckers, along with his Christian friends.

He wanted to meet and be friends with popular kids. This is Mano, he has been following them. But when he is with me, what are we not doing? Even one day, when we were young, our parents called the police because they could not find us. And where did they find us in the end? Sleeping on a bench. But as time goes by, I feel that Mano and I are drifting apart. Sometimes I would try to hang out with him by force and drag him out of his room. But he is on his own. Alone.

One day, as I was heading home, to my surprise, I saw my mom and dad. They were carrying a big black bag. We take this bag when we go on vacation. For example, when we went for a walk in the streets of Rome. My mom called me, "Oh, Or you've arrived. Start packing your things."

I asked her, "Why are we packing? Where are we going?"

My mom said with a mysterious expression, "It's a surprise. Start packing."

From that moment, I started packing my clothes, and all the things I needed that were in my room. Even though I kept asking myself all the time, where are we going, I continued to pack. I thought that maybe we are going on vacation for the New Year.

After half an hour, my mom called me, asking if I had finished packing. I replied positively. She looked pleased and then I saw that the whole house was empty, even a painting that my grandfather from my father's side painted was taken to the bag.

"Tomorrow at nine in the morning, we will go to the... never mind." she interrupted herself.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

My mom answered with her famous saying, "Remember, my son, surprises are abundant, every surprise is a sign of a new beginning, and every beginning is a new story with a new cover and new questions."