11/8/00
Only
in
Israel
Quiet
it
ain't.
When
the
white
Mitsubishi
signaled
right
and
turned
left,
it
was
bad
luck
for
Cohen:
he
had
just
repaired
his
white
Subaru,
and
now
--
this.
In
a
second,
a
crowd
gathers.
Everyone
takes
charge.
(There
are
nine
majors,
six
colonels
and
two
generals
in
attendance,
not
to
mention
11
medics,
all
of
whom
pounce
on
poor
Cohen.)
An
argument
breaks
out,
as
to
the
best
thing
to
do.
"He's
going
to
need
a
new
radiator,
that's
for
sure."
"Waddaya
talking.
The
car's
kaput."
"Idyot.
My
brother
could
fix
it
for
maybe
eight
thousand.
Three
thousand
if
The
Arab
comes
up
with
something."
It's
a
warm
day.
Warm?!
It's
so
warm,
a
debate
gets
going:
half
the
crowd
is
certain
it's
a
khamsin,
the
other
half,
a
sharav.
Things
get
so
testy,
they
refuse
to
even
agree
that
it's
hot.
Levy
from
the
Mitsubishi
is
hollering
at
Cohen
from
the
Subaru,
blaming
him
for
both
the
traffic
accident
and
the
peace
process.
He
is
making
no
sense
at
all,
but
so
what?
He
is
shouting
loud
enough
that
the
majority
takes
his
side.
"Waddaya
crazy?
The
Mitsibushu
shoulda
--"
"Who
you
calling
crazy?
Your
mother
--"
"Oh,
yeah?
Your
mother!"
Which
gets
everyone
arguing
about
why
people
have
to
argue
at
a
time
like
this.
Cohen,
it
turns
out,
did
the
rewiring
in
Levy's
apartment
some
years
earlier,
and
that
makes
Levy
even
madder,
because
the
house
short-circuits
every
time
he
uses
the
shaver
when
the
fridge
is
working.
And
as
it
turns
out,
Levy's
nephew
does
miluim
with
Cohen's
fat
son,
and
a
bus
driver
who
had
stopped
to
survey
the
damage
happens
to
be
their
sergeant
who
wouldn't
release
the
nephew
for
his
cousin's
wedding
but,
as
it
turns
out,
Cohen's
son
was
also
invited
(the
cousin
is
his
girlfriend's
brother),
and
he
was
given
leave.
A
long
line
of
cars
is
honking
the
bus
driver
to
get
moving,
because
they
also
want
to
see
the
damage
before
it's
cleaned
up.
The
driver
takes
one
last
look,
says
"tsk-tsk,"
and
drives
off.
A
tremendous
traffic
jam
has
formed
in
both
directions,
and,
although
several
passersby
have
taken
it
upon
themselves
to
direct
the
traffic,
nothing's
moving
because
everyone
has
to
stop
and
ask
"What
happened?"
Some
dimwit
comes
running
up,
waving
his
cellphone,
and
asks
if
he
should
call
an
ambulance.
As
if
--
with
a
tenth
of
1
percent
of
the
national
population
already
on
hand
--
he's
the
first
at
the
scene
with
a
phone.
The
first
were,
in
fact,
both
Levy
and
Cohen,
because
both
were
talking
on
the
phone
the
moment
the
accident
occurred
(turns
out
the
people
they
were
talking
to
sit
next
to
each
other
in
shul).
Thankfully,
Cohen's
only
serious
injury
is
a
bent
antenna.
Is
it
hot.
A
parked
car
nearby
starts
emitting
a
shrill
wail,
like
an
air
raid
siren,
but
nobody
notices.
Actually,
three
other
car
alarms
have
been
blaring
all
afternoon,
but,
like,
who
ever
does
anything
about
it?
You
ever
see
a
policeman
come
racing
to
the
scene
because
an
alarm
has
gone
off?
There
are,
in
fact,
two
cops
stuck
in
the
traffic
jam,
but
it
doesn't
occur
to
them
to
get
out
of
their
squad
car
and
take
control
of
the
situation.
They're
on
a
mission,
and
nothing
will
deter
them:
they're
prowling
for
cars
with
dirty
license
plates,
and
you
could
whiz
past
them
doing
140,
they
wouldn't
notice.
Everyone
milling
about
is
scanning
the
crowd
for
people
they
know.
Everyone,
it
seems,
knows
everyone
--
or
is
about
to:
"He-e-e-y,
Moshiko,
what's
up?
What's
new?
How's
things?
Didja
see
the
accident?
Was
it
something!
You
know
my
army
buddy
here,
Shlomo?
Oh,
Shimon
is
it?
Never
mind,
this
is
--
ALLO!
Ai,
over
here,
Tznonit,
howya
doin'?!
Wywywy,
you're
lookin'
foxy,
you
gotta
meet
my
friends
here,
Shimshon
my
army
buddy,
and
..."
Well.
Don't
think
Tznonit
doesn't
know
Shimon
and
Moshiko.
But
she
can't
remember
who
the
hell
this
guy
is.
Meanwhile,
Eliyahu
Cohen
(no
relation
to
Cohen,
but
he
is
related
to
Levy)
is
stuck
in
the
traffic,
and
he's
not
too
happy
about
it.
He
was
just
on
his
way
to
getting
the
car's
air
conditioner
fixed,
and
the
last
thing
he
needs
is
this.
If
he's
shvitzing,
imagine
his
wife:
she's
in
the
back
seat,
giving
birth.
Eliyahu
has
the
presence
of
mind
to
get
out
the
videocamera.
As
soon
as
the
camera
is
turned
on,
two
dozen
people
press
their
faces
to
the
car
windows,
to
get
filmed.
The
wife
is
with
one
hand
holding
back
the
baby,
with
the
other,
trying
to
get
her
mother
on
the
cellphone.
A
man
with
a
beard
comes
running.
"Maybe
I
can
help!"
he
shouts.
Reluctantly,
the
father-to-be
turns
off
the
camera
for
a
moment.
"You're
a
doctor?"
"No."
"Can
you
fix
the
air
conditioner?"
"No."
"Then
you
can't
help."
"I
said
only
maybe
I
can
help.
If
it's
a
boy.
I'm
a
mohel."
The
mohel
spots
a
kid
standing
around
with
his
friends.
"Yingele!"
the
circumcisor
exclaims.
"You
remember
me?
But
of
course
not.
Tell
your
friends,
it
didn't
hurt
so
much,
did
it?"
The
kid
blushes.
Suddenly,
someone
calls
out
"mincha!"
and
a
few
dozen
men,
including
both
Levy
and
Cohen,
gather
in
front
of
the
lottery
booth
for
afternoon
prayers.
A
gum-chomping
teenager,
her
bellybutton
left
uncovered
between
the
miniskirt
and
halter
top,
is
shooed
away
from
the
booth,
but
she
stands
her
ground,
protesting
that
it's
an
emergency,
she
had
been
sent
by
her
unemployed
father
to
buy
lottery
tickets
at
precisely
that
moment
on
the
advice
of
his
rabbi,
and
anyway,
she
pouted,
she
was
there
first,
and
this
is
a
democracy,
and....
The
men
just
figure
the
hell
with
it
and
shuffle
over
to
the
watermelon
stand
across
the
street.
Cohen
and
Levy
finish
their
prayers,
and
promptly
attack
each
other.
Levy
bloodies
Cohen,
but
it's
nothing
compared
to
what's
going
to
happen
to
Levy,
because
his
wife
is
gonna
kill
him
when
he
gets
home,
because
he
had
promised
to
take
the
kids
to
a
movie,
and
this
time,
she
had
warned
him,
no
excuse
will
do.
Which
is
why
Levy
half
hoped
that
Cohen
would
bloody
him,
if
just
to
win
a
little
sympathy
from
his
wife.
Nobody
can
agree
why
the
fight
started.
A
poll
is
conducted
among
the
eyewitnesses,
and
about
half
say
it
had
something
to
do
with
Cohen
making
a
snide
remark
about
the
"Proud
to
be
riffraff"
sticker
on
Levy's
newly-dented
bumper,
while
about
half
say
Levy
said
Cohen
should
cover
his
car
with
riffraff
stickers.
Everyone
agrees,
however,
that
the
accident
was
God's
will.
This
is
not
a
good
time
to
be
moving
into
the
neighborhood.
The
truck
is
stuck
a
good
kilometer
away,
and
Sima
wants
her
stuff
NOW.
She
gives
her
new
neighbors
a
fair
idea
of
what
they
can
expect,
when
she
cuts
a
swathe
through
the
throngs,
elbows
out,
in
full
holler,
with
a
posse
of
terrified
Arabs
in
her
wake,
her
worldly
goods
on
their
backs.
And
just
let
them
dare
ask
for
a
tip!
At
the
same
time,
her
husband
is
upstairs,
in
their
new
third-floor
apartment,
heaving
an
old
green
couch
over
the
balcony.
It's
a
hot
day.
Damn
hot.
A
bunch
of
kids
are
over
at
the
makolet
on
the
corner
(not
at
the
Super
Cheap,
because
nobody
shops
there,
but
next
door
at
the
Super
Zol),
buying
ice
cream.
They've
been
buying
ice
cream
for
20
minutes.
Finally
the
grocer
realizes
the
kids
are
not
buying
ice
cream,
they're
cooling
themselves
off
at
his
freezer,
and
he
swats
them
away
with
a
broom.
A
frowning
woman
tells
him
off,
reminding
him
that
he
also
has
kids
sweltering
somewhere
and
how
would
he
feel
if
blah
blah
blah.
He
sighs.
It's
been
that
kind
of
week.
Tomorrow
he
goes
off
to
miluim
for
a
month.
He
can't
wait.
One
of
Sima's
Arabs
slips
on
what's
left
of
a
dead
cat,
and
drops
her
bed
in
the
middle
of
the
street.
Sima
shrieks
at
the
Arab
that
he'll
never
get
out
of
Gaza
again
because
her
brother
is
in
the
Border
Police,
and
what
kind
of
morons
are
these
people,
good
luck
to
Arafat
when
he
tries
to
run
a
country
full
of
them,
and
because
she
is
shouting
loud
enough,
everyone
takes
her
side.
Cohen
and
Levy
finally
get
around
to
exchanging
ID
and
insurance
information.
Turns
out
they
have
the
same
agent.
Cohen
asks
Levy
how
much
he's
paying.
Levy
is
paying
a
lot
less.
That
pleases
Levy
because
it
shows
he's
a
better
negotiator,
and
it
pleases
Cohen,
because
it
shows
his
car
is
worth
a
lot
more.
They're
both
in
a
much
better
mood
now.
Someone
shouts
"It's
a
girl!"
Eliyahu
is
grinning.
A
tumultuous
"Mazel
tov!"
rises
from
the
street,
and
all
the
drivers
honk
their
horns
rhythmically
in
celebration.
Finally,
Levy
and
Cohen
lurch
off
in
their
newly-dented
cars,
and
traffic
gets
moving
again.
The
tiniest
breeze
wafts
through,
and
the
throng,
as
one,
says
"Ahhhhh,"
and
slowly
disperses.
The
cops
are
giving
a
whopping-big
ticket
to
the
moving
truck,
and
the
Arabs
are
convinced
it
is
not
because
their
license
plate
is
dirty,
but
because
they
are
Arabs.
Eliyahu's
wife
is
feeling
guilty,
because
it
wasn't
a
boy.
The
immigrants
in
the
ground
floor
apartment
are
happy,
because
they
have
a
new
green
couch.
Sima
finally
has
her
fridge
plugged
in,
and
Sima's
husband
his
TV,
which
he
already
has
on
full
volume.
Moshiko
gets
Tznonit's
phone
number,
so
they're
happy,
and
the
unemployed
man
will
be,
because
his
daughter
with
the
bare
bellybutton
has
just
bought
a
winning
ticket,
which
proves
there
is
a
God.
It's
just
another
day
in
Israel.