I couldn't get anything better for Egypt than a tourist visa.
This meant, that I had to return to Israel every two weeks.

I slept on the beach, was invited for breakfast, and went north.
In the taxi I met two French women, Raymonde and Joseline.
There was such an amazing click between us, that after 7 km,
when they had to get out at Ma'aganah, their hosting place,
I asked them, if I could spend some more time with them.

I wonder, what angel-on-the-abyss arranged this!
For no sooner had I sat down to continue our talk,
than my intestines revolted in the most hideous way.
I hardly made it to what was called a toilet there.
That was the start of the most horrendous diarrhea.

Raymonde, obviously appointed as my angel-on-duty,
dragged me to a friend's hut, which was next to the sea,
so I could more easily be hauled to the WATER to shit.

Strangely enough, there was Nadav ben-Mordechai!
a young Israeli, who had rescued me once before...

I was given a galabiya-gown to make shitting easier,
and was repeatedly carried into the water by 2 people.
I got worse and worse, with fever rising to 42 degrees,
as they told us in the Nuweiba hospital in the evening.

I was so numb, that I didn't notice, what was decided.
I see myself in a taxi heading north, through the night,
sitting/lying between my angels, Raymonde and Nadav,
supported by them, when I needed to stop the taxi and shit,
tugged into an ambulance on the other side of the border,
somehow handling passport procedures,
smiling a weak good-bye to my saviours, and - passing out.

Dehydrated - i.e. drained of WATER - as I was,
the Josefsthal hospital in Eilat acted fast and I recovered fast.
2 days later David & Eilat came down all the way from Tel-Aviv,
fetched me from the hospital and drove me to my bus in Lotan,
where the three of us united the flames of the Shabbat candles.
The next day they brought me - via the Succah - to my daughter.

At that time, I believed, what Sinai experts told me, that everyone has to go through this once, and if s/he survives, his body will then tolerate anything. This was certainly true. Ran [s.below] was disgusted when he saw the bottles with stinking water, which I fetched from Bedouin water tanks on the beach and drank. But now that I'm sculpting these experiences, I see how that physical shitting foreshadowed my later Hell. There I spread my legs under my gown, with people present, to let my shit flow freely into the WATER of the Red Sea. Ten weeks later I see myself sitting far out in the same sea, and yelling at some god from the bottom of hell: "You can do your shit alone! Do you hear me? I can do nothing but sit with these wretched people soaked with their puke, steeped in their shit."

By then the eviction by three categories of Egyptian police and the forced evacuation of our tents and stuff to the beach, and "the way of life" of my 3 "potential hosts and Rihlah-owners", their smoking grass from morning to night and its consequences, had taken such a toll on me, that my vision, my efforts, my being had become a lifeless shell. Ahmed [left in the photo] said: "You must go home and heal yourself." On the last day of the Festival of Succot, I did just that, I went home for five weeks. Not knowing, that I wouldn't see again my "partners" or our Rihlah

But then, in the middle of July, I recovered within five days,
wrote a Rihlah-brochure with Immanuel's help in the Galilee,
hiked from there with Sandra, one of my future Sinai angels,
hiked further with Avi Dagan, another of my angels-on-duty,
won over young Keren [ "ray" of the sun], to get her parents' car,
[see about both, Avi and Keren , in "Flight to Egypt"]
went south to"Polysack" in Kibbutz Nir-Yitzhak,
to buy material for a tent,
[to get the link right, I just refreshed contact with Drorah, the saleswoman,
also a grandmother of nine, who'll soon be 70, retire from "Polysack" and teach]
went to Beersheva to buy what I'd learnt to be vital for survival,
went to Nir Gur in Arad, to make a model of the "bench-closet",
to be made of "gareed", the stems of palm fronds, by an artisan,
to furnish the tents in addition to mattress, carpets & solar panel,
traveled down to Eilat, and crossed the border by foot at mitnight.
Except that this time David was at my side for another day and night.

In Nuweiba we purchased a small car-battery for my 10 W solar-panel,
then walked back to Jessica, that Swiss woman married to a Bedouin,
in order to check out promises of cooperation made by Eid & M'sallem.

We felt weighed down by the sticky atmosphere among all people, and when night fell and longing for pure air became overwhelming, we decided to walk up a wadi on the other side of the coastal road, though we had no idea, where we would end up in this darkness. Later I learnt, that it was called Wadi at-Taulah, the Table-Wadi. After some time we reached a spot of sand in the dry riverbed. We lay down side by side, felt safe under the canopy of stars, and fell asleep, still with a heavy heart. When I looked around in the early morning, I said: "This is the place!" "But you told me about two other wadis, where there might be the possibility to dig up ground water." "Yes, but now I know, that this is the place!" We went down the wadi to wait for a taxi on the road.

When we reached Basata, we parted, and I got off - alone.

Maybe, this is the place to tell about
my "Holy Mountain"
January 1994

It was January 1994 and I was tired and exhausted.
A group came to the Succah for a night only,
they were from the US and on a pilgrimage to the pyramids in Egypt.
In a meeting with them in the Tent of Appointment it turned out,
that their leader was a channeler.
I suggested to take the group to the edge of the Ramon-Crater.
After having walked at the side of the leader for some time,
I heard myself asking questions, and among them a surprising one:
"Is the man, for whom I've been searching all my life, already around?"
And he answered, without change of voice or closing of eyes:
"Yes, he is around, but is there a place for him in your all too busy life?"
I laughed a little...

In February 1994, Renata had gone to Sinai for a week,
and in the first team meeting after that, everyone said,
"It's you now who needs to rest and go away, even abroad .

"Abroad? I just got a letter from a friend, a peasant woman:
"Oh, if I only could take you in my arms so you could rest!"
In fact, her's is the only place where I would like to rest.
But it's a village in Germany, and I have no money."

"Would you go, if I gave you the money?" asked Renata.
Renata received a small salary like the other hosts.
There was never enough money for my own salary.
I hesitated and then agreed: "But only in April."
To go before or during Pesach, the busiest season,
was out of the question.
"But you need a rest immediately ! Go to Sinai!"

It so happened, that two guests, a woman and a man,
guides in Desert Survival Training in the United States,
planned to go to Eilat the next day and later to Sinai.
Wasn't this a sign from heaven?

We drove to Eilat and they invited me to stay over night in their hotel.
We talked into depth and felt, that there was meaning in having met.
We fixed, that they would guide me through an Indian "Vision Quest",
I should meet them 5 days later in the cafeteria of "The Devil's Head".

I crossed the border with my very heavy backpack.
Since I had made up my mind to avoid any hosting place,
I had taken with me also bottles with 6 liter drinking water.
Some angel helped me to slip through the security controls.
I reached the shore and plodded along for the rest of the day.
The beach was strown with repulsing garbage like a carpet.
I kept fighting with my growing disgust until I understood:
"It's exactly this shit in which you are supposed to immerse.
Feel what you feel and don't run away!"

When dusk tinted the sea, I turned west to the mountains.
I met a young Bedouin, explained my strange wandering,
and knew I was in for trouble.
I managed to get away and find myself a hiding-place.
Later in the night, he came searching for a cheap feast,
my heart was beating to the throat, but I was not found.

I left hurriedly in the early dawn and returned to the shore. After much walking I came to a bay that invaded the mountains. I settled down at its edge for the next three days. The place was so fantastic that I kept saying to myself: "If there was a little cabin to live in, and a host to take care, a tourist would pay 300 $ for a day to live here." The integration of water play and mountain climbing produced a feeling of wellness and happiness I hadn't known for a long time. I had written this passage and regretted not to have any photo. The next day as I was guarding Tomer playing with his friends in the corridor of his school, my eyes fell on a bunch of school-books: "The Geography of the Mediterranean Nations", and there - under the general title of "the mountains meeting the sea" - I found this picture. If it's not my Sinai bay, it at least resembles it very much. Luckily I had my camera with me. Since the Egyptians won't "ever" permit me to enter Egypt again, I'll content myself with this photo.

Then came the day of the appointed meeting with my friends. I walked west along the bay , until I reached the coastal road. I hitchhiked to the Devil's Head and from there walked west. until I met an odd solitary rock with a cosy niche to sleep in. I felt it to be "God's ear", the right site for my "vision-quest". Without backpack I traced my path back to the Devil's Head. In the cafeteria I left a note and a kind of map for my friends. And indeed, the next morning I saw them coming towards me. It was a great start - this encounter in the middle of the desert. After the rituals of preparation - each of us went his/her way. All the three would fast and stay by him/herself for 24 hours.

Waking up from another solitary night in "God's Ear" , I found myself in the surprising company of a ~~~ fox. Since I was terribly cold, I started walking right away. I was determined to find my sacred mountain this day, and I hoped, the fox would not leave me, and it didn't. It accompanied me - at a distance of about 10 meters, until I reached the first cliffs above my chosen wadi. I sat down on a cliff to rest and the fox sat beneath to watch me. I closed my eyes for some time. And when I opened them, the fox was gone. I am not an animal fan, but I knew that to American Indians animals are messengers. Since I was following an Indian way of healing and growing, I let myself be inspired and guided by their beliefs on this day.

The little prince learns from a fox

With no feeling of hunger, I climbed higher and higher.
And I did reach my sacred mountain,
which is the undescribable feeling of being WHOLE.

There were also understandings and decisions of the mind.
I reinforced these in the closing rituals, when we three met.
But what I remember now, is the feeling of wholeness.
The innermost core of this feeling has never left me since,
despite swirling tornados and swallowing hells in my life.

We drove to the Sea at Basatha for a last ritual inside the Water.
It had to do with holding a rope between the three of us,
while each one was swimming individually.
What I remember more vividly, is this:
When I entered the sea, something thought in me:
"I wished I would encounter a very special animal."
I laughed at myself:
"Here's a coral reef with thousands of creatures,
each one special and unique!
What more do you want!"
But sure enough,
when I returned from the swim with my friends far out in the sea,
and had crossed the reef on my way back to the beach,
there was a strip of flowing green algae under the water,
and gliding through the green - I saw - a water snake,
an animal I had never seen before
and did never see again,
though in Eilat I snorkeled on reefs innumerable times.
My snake was wholly white, except for her purple head.

My desert guides drove me all the way back to the Succah,
interrupting only in Ne'ot Smadar, that unique community,
to which I had been trying to connect several times before.
I felt whole.
Two weeks later, on the 4th of March 1994,
LOVE began to make its appearance and then to evolve,
as I always knew it would, once I would be WHOLE.

 

 

Forward again to July 1996

Now, in July 1996, I am on my own again, in Basata. Sharif gives me three bamboo poles - without money. How did I transport them to the entry of the Table-Wadi? How did I carry them up through the boulders of the wadi? The next day I started to cut the material for my tent. I'm going to tell this story in the page about the Sinai Rihlah. There was a niche under a rock which provided a little shade. But when cutting and stitching the widely spread-out material, I had David's black umbrella over my head, its handle under my armpit and a string tied to its spikes held by my teethe. [see demonstration with a piece of the original black and silvery netshade, the original needle and the original black thread, on my veranda on 2003_03_15] For sleeping there was just one suitable spot of sand in the wadi. It was the beginning of August and the heat intense day and night. That's why I slept naked - not inside my sleeping bag but upon it. But my backpack and a bedsheet were close at hand, just in case... One night I woke up horrified - a man approached me. With utmost speed I wrapped the bedsheet around me. He was already squatting at my side, demanding harshly: "Give me WATER!" But before I could hand him the bottle, he jumped on me. My left hand shot into my backpack, grabbed the saw, which I had borrowed from M'sallem on the beach, in order to cut the bamboo-poles to the needed size. I pointed the saw against the man's chest like a sword, but he was already on his feet: "I was only joking!' he said in English with a heavy Arabic accent. And he disappeared into the night. I felt myself numb with fear. HOw could I possibly go back to sleep? But I had to! I needed to hurry up with my tent. And indeed, the next night I slept in my tent for the first time.

I still use the umbrella - with its now redundant string when it's raining in Modi'in.

I was still very frightened.
Why had I attracted this?
Part of my days were filled with innumerous encounters with people.
Bedouins and Egyptians, men and women, strangers and potential partners.
A talk with a professor from an Egyptian university made sense of what I saw:
"People here fear their own shadow", he said.
We had met in the fieldschool of St. Catharine


It's not that I don't know fear.
On the contrary, fear is the core of my self-conditioning,
as I found out once, when I studied the Enneagram-theory
about what model of the universe each of nine different types of people have.
At that time (1984?) the first type was called "Fear",
and I felt, that this was my basic problem and - gift!

In my own words:
When preparing for this incarnation,
and knowing exactly what I wanted to learn,
I chose all kinds of conditions, exterior and interior.
In choosing "Fear" as the main interior conditioning,
I gave myself a powerful chance to grow:
By not succumbing to my sickening shyness for instance,
I expanded my self-esteem and therefore my overall strength.
Of course, in the past "overcoming fear" came at the price of denial.
Nowadays I do both:
I relate to my fear like I would to a lame friend on a hike:
I don't give up on what I want, i.e. go on with the hike.
Nor do I desert my friend and hike on.
I take him under my arm, and walk only as fast as his lameness allows for,
while all the time breathing-moving-sounding as much as I need to.

During all my 14 years in the so-called insecurity of nature,
many, many people asked me, if I wasn't afraid.
I was afraid, when driving my bus down a dangerous road,
like the Sodom road to my first experience in the Desert (Nov. 1987).
I was afraid, when I roamed through the desert,
and had not found my way back, when the sun was about to set.
I was afraid when - during the night of my flight to Egypt - I met a hyena.
But I was never afraid of "bad people".
Out there under the open sky I feel safe.

"Strengthen ye the weak hands, and confirm the feeble knees Say to those with a quickened heart: Be strong, fear not."

"Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf shall be unstopped. Then shall the lame man leap as a hart, and the tongue of the dumb sing-with-joy."

"They shall obtain joy and gladness,
and sorrow and sighing will flee away."
Jesaja 35, see now in Song-Game 2007

But I had to learn to identify with the FEAR in Egypt. There is fear everywhere on earth, certainly in Israel. But when I crossed the border from Egypt to Israel, I always felt, that I could breathe with more ease. "In Egypt we fear our own shadows", said Prof. Youssef Mohamed from Tanta University. In Egypt everyone fears everyone so much, that truthfulness can hardly be found. Even when a lie is unnecessary, truth is not an option. If I wanted to work with these people, if I wanted to bring about change, I could not allow myself to judge people . I needed to learn to be accepting of their fear.

In my pocket calender in which I used to write the names of the places where I slept and of the people I encountered on a certain day, I found an old clip glued into it, one of my ongoing attempts to define my goal: "I want to bring together the creative people yearning for satisfaction and the problems of the world screaming for creative solutions. I want to work with teams of people who work on the main problems of the world. I want to bring them to the desert, the traditional space of inspiration and empowering, and to the Succah, which is not only a doorway to the desert, but also a study model for the 3 biggest problems."

The most staggering situation where this lesson was pounded into me,
occurred 6 weeks later, after the inauguration of our Rihlah on Sept. 13, 1996,
when Ahmed and Aziz were supposed to welcome a prestigious guest.

But before this I have to tell
how I found these potential partners,
or how they found me.

It was also at the edge of the WATER,
where the potential hosts and owners of a "Mobile Hosting Business" were 'waiting'.
Significantly they were not Bedouins from the Red Sea, but from the Mediterranean,
runaways from their Bedouin society near Rafiakh in Egypt, south of the Gaza strip.

The first potential pioneer was Abdul-Aziz.

I had not yet completed my third generation pyramidal tent,
and was walking up and down that inconspicuous Table Wadi
2 km north of Tarabin, 1,5 km west of Eid's and M'salllem's huts.

When I had to go to Tarabin for information or assistance,
I never took the coastal road but the longer path along the SEA.

On the third day after my return, July 29, 1996,
I needed to buy a mattress and a local carpet.
I passed by a lonely "khusha" [hut] by the Sea,
from where a young fisherman was calling me:
"I just caught a fish. Do you want to eat it with me?"
Food was something rare during those weeks.
It's astonishing how my body - so fond of eating - can do without, when necessary!
I postponed finding a mattress and gladly accepted
and Aziz became my first "partner", or so I wished,
He promised to help me saw the bamboos for the apex of my tent.

By then I still hoped, Eid, M'sallem and Jessica would be the pioneers.
They came to visit me up the wadi, and often I got food down at the sea.
I could fetch impure WATER from their tank, and borrow M'sallem's saw.
But they did not become partners or pionieers.
Eid, in particulalr, had nothing to loose, but he feared the Egyptians.

The second potential pioneer was Ahmed

The second, the older one and the closest in understanding was Ahmed,
like Aziz a Bedouin from the area around Rafiakh, south of the Gaza-strip.
where I had been in detention in May 1995.

After the second night of having slept in my own precious tent,
I went again to Tarabin to buy a mattress, helped by my contacts.
I was led to a shop of an Egyptian, who could order such things.
Hearing about my vision, he said: "You should register a patent!"

 

I saw Ahmed on the beach, while talking to someone I needed.
Maybe, it was, when I watched a "gareed" artisan at his work,
and thought of going to El-Arish and studying this dying art,
in which I saw the great potential for a future Desert Economy.
Ahmed looked at me with his sad face, but nothing was said.

I met so many people then, mostly Bedouins, Israelis, Europeans.
As before & after, I often found myself in the role of a "supporter",
listened to people's plights, encouraged them to "move emotions",
the Swiss Jessica in her impossible environment was one of them,
or impossible couples like Joseline and her Bedouin friend Ri'aad.
Raymonde and her Israeli boyfriend Yaron were supporters for me.

These contacts led to all kinds of visitors in my hidden Table Wadi,
like one Michael Reznik, who was ready to be my mailman in Israel.
I wrote an invitation to an "Aetgar ba-midbar", a challenge in Sinai,
"Let's create tents together towards the opening of the first Pyramidion!"
a letter which he was supposed to read on the phone to my friends.
Among them my closest: Moshe Klein and Keren Krotchik.

On August 5,1996, I noted:
"Aziz did not come to help me with the path,
A policeman threw him into prison".
Arbitrary incarceration would soon be part of our 'routine'.
So I worked all alone on making a proper path to my place.
"I collapsed. Sleep and pain all day.
In the evening - Dana and Nir - they gave me Reiki."
This was an Israeli couple who studied Chinese medicine,
and were guests in a khusha, a hut not far from Aziz.

 

I used my second routine journey to the border Egypt-Israel,
to make contact with more hosting enterprises along the Sea.

Raymonde introduced me to those around The Devil's Head.
I was most impressed by Mazaag or "Sinai's creative center",
a truly "desert-compatible" enterprise, suited for workshops.
and dreamt with their owners, Ruth from Australia and Sa'eed.
But our dreams were doomed.
3 months later I was not allowed to cross the border anymore,
and Mazaag was closed down because of a certain workshop,
which the Egyptians found offensive to morale...

On my way to Israel I had a nagging fantasy: a cup of yoghurt,
caused by the poor nourishment of dry laffas and bad WATER.
And what did "God"? He sent me a car to the north end of Eilat,
whose driver was the manager of the Dairy of Kibbutz Yotvata.
I was invited to drink all the yoghurt in the kibbutz dining room!
Re'uven Gal then drove me to my mobile home in Kibbutz Lotan,
Three days later, when I again lifted my hand on the Aravah road,
he again came my way and gave me a lift back to the Sinai border.

By then I still had not really met Ahmed.
I needed to get help from my own "kin",
from Moshe, from Ranni, from Keren.

 

Exploring the scarce notes in my calendar, I see lines of warning in Hebrew: "Go back to Being [i.e. let go of doing]. Train [people as hosts and owners of a Rihlah], don't do it FOR them. Aqedat Yitzkhaq [do your lekh-lekhâ, your letting go] of the Pyramidion. Bear the shame of failure. A living symbol for the economy in the desert [what?]; "Don't make yourself known to the authorities." But did I follow these intentions? Not at all! Especially not that ancient Jewish warning! Already the next day I went to the Egyptian embassy, to attempt again in vain to get a more convenient visa. But I still had no idea, what the authorities held in store.

Back in my Table Wadi on the morning of August 11, 1996,
I went early to Tarabeen to fix the time with Saalem, a Bedouin,
who had promised to take me on a drive of 400 km to El-Arish,
where I wanted to study the "Gareed" craft or Palm Frond craft.

The capital of North Sinai, El Arish is situated on the Mediterranean coast, 214 miles East of Cairo.
It is noted for its beautiful palm-shaded beaches and the glowing colours of Bedouin crafts

When I came up the wadi towards my tent, to pack my stuff,
I discerned someone sitting upon the cliff above the tent.

The man was cooking something on a tiny gas stove. "Do you want to have some soup?" he called from above. Stunned I came closer, climbed up and stared at him. "I'm a friend of your friend Moshe Klein, He heard that I was on my way to Mount Moses. It's there that I want to spend the 11th of August (the night of the year with the most "falling" stars). he begged me to go out of my way to search for you. And - the impossible happened - I found your tent!" These "Angels on Duty" on all my abysses! Writing this, tears rise in my eyes. Ran Lichtner ('Licht' in German=Light) was amazing. That the first thing was, to give me warm food to eat, was very much like in my beloved Eliyah story [1.Kings 19]. Ran did not spend the starry night on Mt. Moses, nor did I ever study the gareed-craft in El-Arish. Instead Ran went straight back to Israel, borrowed his father's car and tools to work, encouraged my friends to come down to me, visited the Succah and was given heaps of food, Bought poles and material for two more tents, and packed-up high arrived 2 days later in my wadi. He said: Moshe and Keren are on their way too! for your birthday! My gratitude came to a boil~~~

Later Ran founded his "Bamboo-Center" and told me, that his interest in bamboo was greatly spurred by his experience in the Wadi-at-Taula. Suddenly [2003_04_03] I see a connection : Both , the gareed, or stems of palm fronds and the bamboo stems serve to make furniture! "Ran, Ranni, ...Since I'm remembering you with such gratitude, and am now verbally "sculpting" this memory on my website, I would like to add at least one photo." To my surprise and joy, Ranni did respond [2003_04_13] and through him also Moshe. Has the time come for a reunion?

Moshe came close to midnight - with Ahmed in his tow: "I was searching for the Table Wadi, and met this man on the beach. He is the right man for you!" I trusted both, Moshe and Ahmed.

Moshe Klein A pioneer of organic mathematics and true e-ducation in his "Gan-Adam" "Kindergarden of Man"

For a bigger picture see Succah Timeline Stage Two.

Though this photo was taken in 1989, i.e. 7 years earlier, during the first and only Succah experiment during 48 hours with 14 people, I cannot imagine a photo more characteristic of Moshe Klein (to the right) dancing in the desert close to the Ramon Crater in Israel's Negev, in a triangle with two other participants, who were worlds apart from each other, Itamar, the elderly French Jew, and Muhammed, an outcast of Bedouin society.

 

I had spent the days of Ranni's absence in silence.
Once a Bedouin woman, Aida, walked past my tent,
Further up the wadi she gathered some twigs for a fire,
pulled out some flour from under her skirts and WATER,
[not completed...]

It was in the twilight of my 58th birthday, the 15th of August,
when seven young men and I sat around a fire in my wadi.
Aziz
[not completed...]

On my birthday, the 15th of August, we started to stitch,
when suddenly young Keren came up the wadi.
"So what, if I am a day too late", she said jokingly,
as if someone had accused her.

(story - what story did I want to tell?)

 

 

 

2009_11_11
More photos of Ahmed's "Bamboo-Beach" NOW

 

 

 

Continuation at the end of the next page