5 minute read
Returned to Sender by Rafi Sackville
Israel today Returned to Sender
by rafi Sackville
Irecently bought my mother six mezuzot for her new apartment in Australia. It was the least I could do to help her move after the difficult six months she’s had since my father’s passing. She was delighted, but even more so after I told her about my friend Shlomo, who had offered to make a simple but elegant mezuzah case for her.
Were we living in the center of the country I would have probably sought out someone traveling to Melbourne and asked them to take the mezuzot for me. Living in the Galil, however, where a drive to Jerusalem takes more than two hours, I decided to rely on the postal service instead.
My cousin put up some temporary mezuzot while we waited for the package to make its way across the universe.
I made an online appointment at the post office. I sent the package certified and express. I waited a few days before checking on the tracking number. After a week and a half, I was notified that the item had been sent to Australia.
Seeing we’ve been FaceTiming each other every day for years, I kept my mother abreast of the parcel’s progress. Over the last few months, our conversations have become longer. I revel in making my mother laugh. I jokingly quipped how the mezuzot would probably take forever to get to her. In her inimitable manner, she quipped back that it was the thought that counted. She was confident they would arrive.
While waiting for the package to get to her, Omicron started to rapidly spread throughout Israel, much as it has done everywhere in the world. Nothing much changed here in Ma’alot where we live. We were designated a “red zoned city” months ago.
This designation affected our school, because there are classes in which less than the required 70% of students have been vaccinated. For a time, these students were being taught via Zoom. Then the government changed its policy. Then they did it again.
Like many governments around the world groping for the correct response to the ongoing crisis, Israel is no different. Its messaging has been confusing to such an extent to leave even the likes of ministers in its own government speechless.
The messaging has had a major effect in schools. When students stayed home sick and teachers soon followed them, our staff was sent vague messages that needed parsing down to the last syllable.
For example, when my colleague Gabby fell ill with Covid, we were informed that if we’d been within close proximity to him and we were over 60 years old, we were to take a PCR test. Everybody else had to take an Antigen test. The arguments about “proximity” really means “within 2 meters and for at least 15 minutes in length.” If you didn’t know this, parcel service with whom I had entrusted those mezuzot. I provided the representative with the tracking number.
“Sir? Are you there, sir?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Ah…there’s a problem regarding your package.”
“What problem?”
“Australia is temporarily not accepting parcels from overseas.”
It took me a moment to absorb this. I looked around me. A teacher at the next desk was complaining about her unvaccinated students who had been too close to Gabby for too long the day before; the bell for the next lesson had begun to ring; a homeroom teacher was informing us that three of his students had been diagnosed positive with Covid.
“Australia isn’t accepting parcels? I don’t understand. Your tracking service has been informing me for over a month
you’d be confused. As for Antigen testing, huge swaths of the population were hoarding them like toilet paper in the early days of Covid. Not to mention the fact that they are less than accurate.
We were informed about Gabby’s condition on a Monday. He was feeling well. His health provider had called him the previous evening and told him that as he was over 60 and in a category of at-risk people, they would be sending him one of those famous tablets from Pfizer within the hour. Apparently, the pill helps mitigate up to 80% or more of the symptoms. It arrived as they had promised. As of this writing, Gabby is happily resting at home.
I was sitting in the teachers’ room during a break when I decided to call the that my parcel was sent there.”
“We apologize for that, sir. Unfortunately, we have no idea exactly when they plan to restart the service. Where are you now?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Please, sir.”
“I’m at work,” I answered.
He checked my address.
“OK,” he said without explanation. “We’ll be in touch in the near future.”
Without so much as a goodbye, he was gone, leaving me holding my phone and watching the cacophony of madness around me. I packed my bag and went to class.
Monday is a slow day at school. Students are dismissed at noon. We teachers
Shlomo with the mezuzah case he made for my mother
eat lunch before going to the auditorium to attend a teacher enrichment program. I had just sat down in the teachers’ room when a delivery guy knocked on the door.
Michal, the Hebrew language teacher, gesticulated wildly at him.
“You’re the guy who delivers those Pfizer tablets, aren’t you? I’ve seen you around a lot in the last week.”
The delivery guy nodded in the affirmative.
“What are you doing here with that white envelope?”
He checked the envelope he was holding.
“I’m looking for Rafi Sackville,” he said.
I stood up and made my way towards him. As I did so, Michal stormed out of the room in anger. I signed for the envelope and went back to my seat.
A moment later, the principal was standing in front of me demanding to know if I had tested positive for Covid. I looked up at her and sighed slowly. Ripping off the top of the envelope I put my hand inside and raised six mezuzot and a wooden case above my head for all to see.
“I’m always positive,” I smiled.
Pointing to the mezuzot, I added, “Here’s something that is bound to help during this crazy period of Covid.”
Then Michal walked back into the room and sent an accusatory stare in my general direction.
Meanwhile, do any of you know someone traveling to Australia anytime soon?
