Jewish fiction; Jews -- Fiction; Short stories, Yiddish -- Translations into English
Oh, what a commotion it made! Hardly was it known that I wished to buy
Palestinian earth, than there pounced upon me people of whom I had never
thought it possible that they should talk to me, and be in the room with
me. The first to come was a kind of Jew with a green shawl, with white
shoes, a pale face with a red nose, dark eyes, and yellow earlocks. He
commenced unpacking paper and linen bags, out of which he shook a little
sand, and he said to me: "That is from Mother Rachel's grave, from the
Shunammite's grave, from the graves of Huldah the prophetess and
Deborah." Then he shook out the other bags, and mentioned a whole list
of men: from the grave of Enoch, Moses our Teacher, Elijah the Prophet,
Habakkuk, Ezekiel, Jonah, authors of the Talmud, and holy men as many as
there be. He assured me that each kind of sand had its own precious
distinction, and had, of course, its special price. I had not had time
to examine all the bags of sand, when, aha! I got a letter written on
blue paper in Rashi script, in which an unknown well-wisher earnestly
warned me against buying of _that_ Jew, for neither he nor his father
before him had ever been in Palestine, and he had got the sand in K.,
from the Andreiyeff Hills yonder, and that if I wished for it, _he_ had
_real_ Palestinian earth, from the Mount of Olives, with a document from
the Palestinian vicegerent, the Brisk Rebbetzin, to the effect that she
had given of this earth even to the eaters of swine's flesh, of whom it
is said, "for their worm shall not die," and they also were saved from
worms. My Palestinian Jew, after reading the letter, called down all bad
dreams upon the head of the Brisk Rebbetzin, and declared among other
things that she herself was a dreadful worm, who, etc. He assured me
that I ought not to send money to the Brisk Rebbetzin, "May Heaven
defend you! it will be thrown away, as it has been a hundred times
already!" and began once more to praise _his_ wares, his earth, saying
it was a marvel. I answered him that I wanted real earth of Palestine,
_earth_, not sand out of little bags.
"Earth, it _is_ earth!" he repeated, and became very angry. "What do you
mean by earth? Am I offering you mud? But that is the way with people
nowadays, when they want something Jewish, there is no pleasing them!
Only" (a thought struck him) "if you want another sort, perhaps from the
field of Machpelah, I can bring you some Palestinian earth that _is_
earth. Meantime give me something in advance, for, besides everything
else, I am a Palestinian Jew."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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