Getting Used to Not Knowing by Rafi Sackville

Israel Today Getting Used to Not Knowing

By Rafi Sackville

Iconsider myself a law-abiding citizen. I follow the rules; I never look to break them. I was brought up in Melbourne, Australia, a law-abiding society where today its citizens have submitted, albeit begrudgingly, to the longest government Covid lockdown in the world, stringencies the likes unseen in the U.S. or Israel.

That said, the era of Covid has blurred the lines between what is and is not legal and has left most of us in a state of constant bewilderment. Covid has turned the passage of many countries’ legislative processes into a comedy of never-ending errors: democracies that once took generations to develop their legislative powers now roll out new laws ad-hoc, many of which are driven by politics and misinformation.

We had spent the summer in Far Rockaway, New York, with our children returning eight days before the start of the school year. Informed during our vacation that we’d need to go into isolation, we mentally prepared ourselves for a week of solitude, otherwise known as “climbing the walls.”

Coming back into the country gave us a taste of things to come. The arrival hall at Ben Gurion Airport was dark and unwelcoming. Today, this usually vibrant space serves as a portal to the left, where, through the doors at the hallway’s end, a hangar-like area has been tented and primed for Covid testing.

Once tested I turned to an official-looking chap standing at the taxi stand.

“What now?” I asked him.

“I’m in security,” he replied sternly in the apparent belief that he was absolved of further engagement with me.

I leaned in towards him and quipped, “Even if you don’t want to answer, it doesn’t hurt to smile.”

He tried hard but couldn’t resist a smile.

A citizen behind him said, “It’s like the game of Monopoly; by arriving from overseas you just picked up a “Go to Jail” card which sends you home for a week, or something like that.” I asked him what he meant by “something like that.”

“Just wait. You’ll see.”

His use of metaphor was rather quirky, for he then asked me if I’d ever had an eye test which makes the world look blurry. I told him I had. “Well, it’s something like that.”

Being an abiding citizen…yada, yada, we went home. While in New York, I called the rav of our shul in Ma’alot to ask him whether I should risk turning up for minyanim during the seven days of isolation. I’d turn off my phone so I couldn’t be tracked. His answer was exquisite; he told me he didn’t recommend the encouragement of moral delinquency. So I found someone to say Kaddish for me and together with my wife entered the small confines of our apartment, where we were to wait seven days before our next Covid test.

My friend Noam organized a couple of evening street minyanim for me so I could say Kaddish. The gathered men below my balcony replied amen to my Kaddish. I now know how Juliet felt while Romeo was swooned below her window.

Two days later, we got the first of two texts and emails from the Covid testing service and the Ministry of Health. The former informed us we had tested negative at the airport. The latter related that we were mandated to remain at home for fourteen days, not seven. Whaaat?! I’d been told seven days. What on earth did

this mean?

I contacted a friend who returned home a day before us. Before repeating the phrase “I don’t know,” he rattled off a list of tests one could do: “There’s an AID genomics where you get results in one day, a three-hour test, a rapid antigen test, but it isn’t recognized for the purpose of letting you out of isolation.” Then he said, “But…I dunno!” I told him that was a lot of information for “I dunno,” to which he replied that it has gotten to a point where having more information is not in and of itself meaningful because no one knows the rules anymore.

“But for sure you’re allowed out after seven days,” he assured me.

He’s right. The government has two separate websites for Covid that are regularly inconsistent with each other. Oftentimes, they’re lagging behind with updates. What that means is one has to rely either on being brazenly Israeli or on one’s own circle of acquaintances.

Did I forget to tell you that Covid inspectors are all over the place? Another friend’s son came back from overseas and was sleeping soundly the following morning. He was awoken by an inspector wielding a photo of him for identification and a warning that

he shouldn’t wander away from his home.

We waited for a knock on the door that never came. But that isn’t surprising because our family doctor informed us that they don’t do inspections on the isolated anymore.

“So I could’ve gone to shul, then?” I asked him.

“Not at all,” he said.

I listened his slightly confusing explanation and then thought to myself, “Well…now…I dunno!”

On the seventh day of our isolation, we went to be tested again. While

driving home, I told my wife that I was taking a detour to our health clinic for a booster shot. No, we were not supposed to be getting it until we’d tested negative, but I really didn’t care. Eli, the nurse at our health clinic, gave us our booster shot without any questions. He then printed out a page of answers to questions he never asked us. One question asked if I worked in education. Eli wrote, “No.” So much for 37 years a teacher.

The following morning at 10:00 I got two more text messages. The first informed me that my Covid test after isolation was negative. Anyone will tell you that means I’m allowed back out into the community. Yay for that. The second message read, “Despite testing negative, you must self-isolate for another seven days.”

I was sick and tired of asking friends or perusing websites on the matter. I left the house and went straight back to school. I wonder where Eli thinks I’m employed.

Now that I’m back to normal, you may want to ask me if in hindsight the measures I took after testing negative were correct. All I can say is…I dunno!

What that means is one has to rely either on being brazenly Israeli or on one’s own circle of acquaintances.

Rafi Sackville, formerly of Cedarhurst, teaches in Ort Maalot in Western Galil.

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