Memoires of Gershom

Memoirs of Gershom

…Everyday started out the same. The Jewish officers would come just after dawn to round up the men for the work parties. They were always in a rush because they knew the Egyptians would beat them if they showed up after sunrise. My father would get up off of the small pile of straw that we used to sleep on, drink a bit of water and hurry out the door. We never had enough food in the house, so there was nothing to eat in the morning.

My mother would get up a few minutes later, and proceed to wake the children up. She would tie the baby to her back, and put on our hats and sandals. It would be a long day under the hot Egyptian sun, and there was a lot of work to do to keep the family fed. Together with our mother we would cross over the bridge, walk through the Egyptian town of Raamses, and go out to the fields to look for food. Usually we could scrounge some wheat near the Egyptian fields, and on a good day, we would find some wild cucumbers and melons.

Once we found enough food, we had to rush home to prepare the meal. She knew that the workers would be given only a few minutes to eat during the heat of the day, so she had to have the food ready for my father. While I would run down to the river with a pitcher to bring fresh water, my mother’s hands flew around the wheat stalks, picking off the kernels and grinding them into flour. By the time I returned, my mother would be ready to knead the dough, while I stoked the fire with the wheat stalks. The matzot she made never had time to rise. The instantthe bread was ready she would put it in a bag with a jug of water and I would run to bring it to my father while my mother fed the other children.

I would cross the bridge back over the river out of Goshen and into Raamses. I tried to avoid the Egyptians. They walked with their chins proudly out and would spit at us as we would go by. I had to make it to the brick factory further up the river from the bridge. It was a low building, with black smoke rising up from its chimney. Barges would dock on the river nearby bearing huge bundles of straw that they would use to make the bricks. Jewish slaves would stream in and out to carry the bricks. The bricks would come out of the ovens and the Jews would put them in bags and haul them to whatever temple or monument they were working on at the time. I knew that if I waited long enough my father would come to the factory for another load of bricks and I could give him his meal.

My father was a strong worker -- he could carry three of the bricks at a time on his back, while most workers could only carry two. It was important, because the Egyptians were very insistent that their quota of bricks be filled. If the work party didn’t fill their quota by dusk, there would be beatings. I remember how proud I was of my father. One evening I told him that when I grew up, I wanted to be able to carry three bricks at a time from the brick factory just like him. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at me. He said quietly, “God forbid. ”

When I gave my father his meal, he would give me a gentle smile and then ravenously devour the food. I always felt guilty that I couldn’t give him more, but it was always all that we could find. He would eat squatting near the entrance to the factory. If he stayed for more than a minute or two, he knew he would be beaten. I wouldn’t see my father again until the next day. My father would trudge in after I would go to sleep. That gentle smile was the only thing he could give me.

At night my mother would sing us songs as we lay upon the straw. She would tell us stories about a far away land that God had promised us, a land of hills and valleys. That someday we would go there, someday we would have more to eat, someday we would see our father more. I don’t think we could have kept up the work if it weren’t for her.

The day that Moshe came, our lives changed forever. We all gathered late one night and heard him speak. He turned a stick into a snake, his hand turned leprous. My mother said that maybe the time had finally come. I couldn’t sleep that night I was so excited.

But the next morning was worse than ever before. The Jewish officers gathered up the men even earlier than before – they said that the Egyptians would no longer deliver straw to the brick factory. We all had to help gather straw because we had to keep to the quota of bricks. Our daily outing for food lasted much longer because we also had to gather straw. That first day we just couldn’t find enough straw, so we gave up the small pile of straw that we used for our beds.

The plagues began, the blood, the frogs, the lice. As we walked through Raamses, the Egyptians laughed at us and said, “Your god, it seems can only attack us with tiny armies. Pharaoh will never let you go!!” The Egyptians still walked proudly and spat at us as we walked by. They seemed more annoyed than impressed. My mother was still hopeful, but it seemed like Egyptians were more powerful than Moshe. My father seemed more down than before. The gentle smile he would give me when I brought his food seemed strained.

When the next plagues came the wild animals, the animal epidemic, the boils, and the locusts, the Egyptians’ contempt turned to anger. They weren’t just being annoyed by magic tricks. They were incensed that their property was being destroyed. We had to run through Raamses, because the Egyptians would throw rocks and sticks as we went by. My father’s pained expression turned fearful. “Be very careful walking through Raamses,” he told me. “The Egyptians are more angry than ever. They could do anything. ”

But then the darkness came. We didn’t see the Egyptians for three days. When they finally emerged their swagger had gone. They were fearful, they turned away from us when we walked through Raamses. Something had changed in them. They no longer walked with their chin out. We saw Moshe walking through Raamses, and the Egyptians were thrown into an open panic. They shuttered their windows and brought their children indoors as he passed.

Moshe called another meeting of the people, but this time only the adults went. When my father came back, he sent me over the bridge into Raamses. “Go door to door in Raamses and ask for gold and silver utensils – bowls, cups, tongs forks. Tell them that Moshe says we need them for an honorable offering to God. ”I couldn’t believe my ears. Would the Egyptians really give us their valuables?

I crossed the bridge into Raamses and walked up to the first house I saw. “So says Moshe,” I cried at the door. “Give us gold and silver utensils so we may make an honorable offering to our god. ”I listened to a rustling inside the house. There were screams and tumult. Suddenly an Egyptian woman flung open the door with a crazed look in here eyes. She handed me a huge silver bowl filled with gold utensils and jewelry. “Take it and go!” she said, slamming the door as abruptly as she had opened it.

When I arrived home with my hands full of Egyptian finery, I noticed a sheep tied outside the house. “What’s that for?” I asked. “To sacrifice to God,” my mother said. “But the sheep are holy for the Egyptians!” I insisted. “This is what Moshe said to do,” my mother said firmly.

Over the next few days my father wasn’t working for the Egyptians any more. He would come with us to the fields to help gather wheat. We had more to eat, and my mother even had time to let the bread rise. Soft, moist bread -- what a treat!But still, my parents seemed tense. I was looking forward to tasting the roasted meat, but it seemed like my parents were dreading the day.

Soon the day of the sacrifice arrived. My parents were more nervous than ever. We went to the fields extra early to gather extra wheat, lettuce leaves, and some hyssop branches. When we got home my mother gathered all the extra bread crusts from the last few days and threw them into the fire. “Why are you destroying the food?” I asked. “We can’t have any of the dough that rose around,” she answered. She began making the bread the way she would when my father was working. Quickly removing the kernels, grinding them into flour, making the dough. She had no intention of letting the dough rise today.

I went outside. My father was sharpening a large knife until the blade was perfectly smooth. He tested it carefully with his finger. He quickly slaughtered the sheep, motioning to me to catch the blood with a bowl. He skinned the animal and brought it inside to the oven. “Aren’t you going to cut it into pieces? If we take one of the legs I bet we can make a great soup!” I said. “Moshe said that we must roast it whole,” my father said simply.

My father returned to the bowl he left outside with the blood of the sheep. I watched as my father took some hyssop branches and dipped them into the blood. He painted the blood on the door posts of our house and on the lintel. The red blood stood out against the sandy color of the house. “Why are you doing that?” I asked again. It seemed like I was asking that question a lot lately. “Because Moshe said we must put the blood on our homes to protect them,” my father answered. “Protect them from what?” I asked. My father paused for what seemed an eternity, looking at me with a soft expression. “Come help me wash the lettuce,” he said.

That night we all sat around the table. We had lights lit in our house, a luxury unheard of before. The aroma of the roasted sheep wafted through our home. We ate a wonderful meal, but my parents still seemed frightened. They didn’t even take off their shoes or loosen belts. “What’s going on tonight? Why is Moshe telling us to do all these strange things? Why are the Egyptians so scared?” I asked them. My father and mother looked at each other. Finally my father said, “Mother always said that one day we would leave here. Perhaps she is right. Perhaps tonight is the night. ”

Suddenly I heard a scream in the distance. Then another. Then more and more. It sounded like it was coming from across the river in Raamses. Screams of agony, bitter screams like I had never heard before. I sprang towards the door to see what was happening, but my father tackled me as I neared the door. “You must not leave!! It isn’t safe!!!”He held me in his arms the rest of the night, in a tight embrace, as we heard the screams from the other side of the river.

As dawn broke, there was a knock on the door. A neighbor had a frantic grin on his face. “Moshe says that Pharaoh has let us go!!” he said simply and ran off to the next house.

My mother sent me across to Raamses again. “Run to the Egyptian houses and get things we’ll need for our trip – clothing, grain, whatever else you can think of!!”The Egyptians I saw were mourning, crying, exhausted from the night. They let me into their homes and said simply, “Take what you want. What good is it anyway. ” I came back first with an Egyptian donkey loaded with grain, and then on another trip with armloads of clothing embroidered with gold and silver. My mother and father were frantically grinding the grain and making dough. Never had my mother worked the dough so fast. “We’ll need lots of provisions for a trip through the desert,” she said….