A sad day...

Well, I guess it can't all be good here. Funny enough, I was eating dinner with Robin Einstein, Sharon Haber, Robin's cousin Melanie, and Kayla Ship, my tour guide for my trip in March, about Otzma as a program. In a side conversation with Kayla, I commented that what I like about Otzma is that we have been able to see what you don't normally see on tours here. On tours, no one wants to see that Israel, as a State and political entity, does not have it completely together quite yet. Two weeks ago on our education day, we were driven around to several different cities that have almost been completely neglected by the State. Ironically, all these cities are in the South, around Beer Sheva where I have lived for the last two months. I would say that a large majority of people in Israel believe that the desert is the future of this country. The Negev is where we have the most potential to grow and realize David Ben Gurion's Zionist dream of making the "desert bloom." Unfortunately, there are issues in the South that are truly difficult for a Jewish State to deal with, such as the Bedouins that were forced to settle within borders after the wars no longer allowed them to wander, or the new immigrants who were thrown into the Desert when they arrived in Israel and forced to build a life for themselves in a completely new environment. One particular city I visited, Yerucham, has a really large arch-like statue with a slide in the middle of it that everyone passes as you enter the city. You may ask, why the slide? The slide really stands as a symbol for those who can make it out of the city, slide away. They leave because the opportunities are so slim in cities in the periphery such as Yerucham. These are the ugly parts of this Jewish state that tourists do not come to and put money into the economy.
As a whole, things here are amazing. I walk around quite freely every day, appreciating the people that are out and about and th fact that the malls and shops are crowded. I can easily forget that this country is a new country, just barely hit the senior-citizen age, and still has many problems to deal with. I was reminded of this last night, in a very personal way. For those of you who don't remember, I have been lucky enough to be dating a very special man, Michael, who came here to make a life for himself from France. When I asked him once why he was here, he commented that in France he couldn't live his life as a Jew as fully as he wanted, and that he worried that when he started a family that raising Jewish children would be difficult there. He was a very successful dentist in France, working for 6 years and achieving financial goals that he had for himself. He took a chance by coming here, attaining citizenship, and then living on a temporary residency visa to see if he could make a life for himself here. On a more personal note, he is one of the sweetest, nicest men that I have ever had the privelege to get to know. He always supported me on my ways of practicing Judaism, even though he himself is an Orthodox Jew (and I can explain how that worked later if you are curious), and he also really respected what I had come here to do. Last night, after an amazing night of being together, he told me that he had to return to France to work. I sensed a sort of frustration and humiliation in his voice, but the truth is that doctors don't make the same living here in Israel as they can elsewhere. He had been searching for jobs to no avail, and I think he hit his limit and decided to go back to France next week to start rebuilding his life there. Needless to say, I am heartbroken about this whole thing. Heartache feels the same regardless of the country that you are in, and this one especially hurts because I am powerless. I cannot imagine the loss of intergrity he must feel having to pick up and start again, since I know how much it meant to him to live here, and I am having a hard time dealing myself with the circumstances of this loss of mine. He was wonderful to me, not saying that we were meant to be together, but it is yet another relationship that I feel was stolen based solely on circumstances out of my control.
I am angry. I am angry that a professional cannot come live in this country and realize the same success as he can elsewhere. On the one hand, we are doing so much right here. This is the one place that Judaism may be preserved forever, but how can we sustain the people here if we have no opportunities to offer them? How? I also take into account the fact that we did just go through the intifada, a four year war that completely decimated our economy, and we actually can try to build it up now. Health insurance doesn't cover dentistry. The health system is socialized, so what motivates people to be doctor's if they are not rewarded for it? We are so worried about our security here, but everyone smokes so much that I always wonder why we bother if we don't worry about our health too. These are hard times here, and I wish I understood the economy more so I could surmise a way to fix it. I don't, but God-willing, someone will in the future. That is all I can hope for so heartaches like this don't have to happen again.