19/1/98

Shopkeepers, brotherג€™s keepers

    Yehudaג€™s social scene is a shopping mall. For the past decade or so, almost daily, thatג€™s where he meets his friends. Thatג€™s also where he got most of his education.
    Sounds pathetic. But for Yehuda, loitering around the Israel Brothers Mall has not dulled his wits,  it has immeasurably stimulated them.
    Yehuda, afflicted with Downג€™s Syndrome, is not the sort of character warmly welcomed at a place like this. Many folks secretly wish people like Yehuda would stay out of sight. Heג€™s unesthetic, his behavior is often graceless; heג€™s capable of galumphing up to a stranger sitting at a coffee shop, slapping him on the back and loudy demanding a cigarette. It would be perfectly understandable if the shopkeepers shooed him away.
    Instead, they have taught him to read and write. They feed him. They give him clothes and money and -- much more -- they give him friendship and warmth and they have grown to love him. They do not shun him, they look him in the eye and touch him and make him feel like a real-live human being.
    This sort of generosity is not tax-deductible. Every time Tito gives him a meal, his deli takes a loss. When Yehuda marches into Holi Hobi and says he needs socks, Zadok gives him socks without considering profit loss.
    "Heג€™s a part of the scenery here," says Zadok, a  genial man of 49. "Sometimes he doesnג€™t come for a couple of days and everyone asks, ג€˜Yehuda, whereג€™ve you been?ג€™ "
    Betty, 21, has been working at Angelג€™s Bakery in the mall for only two months, so it takes her an extra second or two to understand who Iג€™m talking about. "The fat one? Oh yes. We never say no to him. We feel sorry for him."
    Imagine that. It is hard enough to resist the delectable display, the enticing aromas at Angelג€™s, but just think if it were free! Lucky Yehuda:  "Whatever he wants, he gets," Betty says.
     "Lucky" is, of course, debatable. To his fellow residents of nearby Beit Julia, he is. He is not, to you and me.  Heג€™s lucky, among the childlike, because heג€™s got a bulging bellyful of goodies; on the other hand, he has no teeth.

HEג€™S UNSIGHTLY, ungainly, disruptive, and a "major nudnik." But go into almost any of the 50-odd shops here and mention Yehudaג€™s name, and they smile warmly.
    "Yehudeleh? He doesnג€™t bother us. He comes in, to change money, to write things down for him,  to ask for a cigarette. Of course, we help him," says Sima, a sales clerk at Annie, a kitchenware boutique. If there is a shop that would not want this bull around, itג€™s a china shop. But he lurches in, mixes with the tony ladies among the highly breakable ג€“ and pricy ג€“ merchandise, and sure enough, even here, heג€™s welcome. Sima says heג€™s never broken anything.
    The shopkeepers didnג€™t get together to decide on a policy about Yehuda; it just happened naturally, ever since the mall opened and this odd fellow burst through the door as if he owned the place. So many of the store owners, it turns out, are kind and caring, and each one, on his own accord, chose to be nice. Soon enough, they realized that everyone was doing it.
    Ironically, this did lead to a conference: Yehuda was getting mighty fat on the sandwiches, Cokes, ice cream, cake and chocolates. The shopkeepers met and agreed that it would be better for their friend if they were a little less good to him.
     "I used to give him too much food, we all did, then we realized we had to control it," says Tito, owner of the Beit Hapri snack bar. "Yehudaג€™s simple. He eats until heג€™s ready to burst. He lost his teeth in the last year, so he doesnג€™t eat as much as he used to; as fat as he is now, he used to be twice as big.
    "Of course we care about him. Jews are like that." Thereג€™s another reason for Titoג€™s sympathy: his uncle, in Argentina, has Downג€™s.
    David Herzberger spends his working day endlessly dealing with children who come to his shop, Party Time, for gifts and knickknacks. He always finds time and patience for Yehuda. "We taught him how to add. Nothing much, really: ג€˜Yehuda, how much is that?ג€™ ג€˜One.ג€™ ג€˜How much is this and this?ג€™ ג€˜Two.ג€™ And today he knows. Itג€™s amazing. We taught him a little bit to read and write, and we play games to test him: weג€™ll write things down incorrectly, and heג€™ll say, ג€˜Hey, itג€™s wrong!ג€™ ג€
    Heג€™s become more sociable, more alert, says David. "We gave him a lot of confidence," says Tito. "Everyone in Talpiot knows him by now, taxi drivers pass him and shout, ג€˜hey, Yehuda, howarya!ג€™ "
    The shopkeepers have taught him how to handle himself in public. "Once he came in, yanked off his shoes and loudly demanded new socks," says Zadok. "It wasnג€™t nice, I was tending to a customer. I want, I want, I want, he says. I explained that just like everyone, he has to wait his turn. Heג€™s learned."
    Tito is fatherly to him, even though at 30, heג€™s a few years younger than Yehuda. "I love him very much, but sometimes Iג€™ll be sharp with him: ג€˜Yehuda not now, I have customers, wait outside!ג€™ We get a little angry with him occasionally, but still, he knows this is his home."
     So appropriate that this shopping center is named Israel Brothers.