My Israel Story – ‘It just felt right’
While Peter Haskin may be best known as The AJN's longstanding photographer, he steps out from behind the lens to share his personal reflections on Israel.
My Israel story is a complex one … She has given me some of my most uplifting and breathtaking moments, and then, in an instant she turned around and brought me to my knees with grief and sadness.
I’ve been lucky enough to visit Israel a number of times, all of those as part of the Australian Maccabiah team in some capacity; from athlete (a long time ago now), through to team photographer.
I’ve also had the opportunity to delve a little deeper, away from these roles and just explore.
Landing in Israel for the first time, Hebrew everywhere, fellow Jews everywhere, it’s actually difficult to describe; except maybe to say, it just felt right. Then onto my first opening ceremony in 1989, Jewish athletes from 45 different countries. Wow, Jews from India, truly amazing. Apart from everything else, it was 50,000 people all singing the one national anthem, Hatikvah, that’s etched into my memory.
And then there was the 1997 opening – the bridge collapse. It’s difficult to write about, let alone think about. As our team began to cross the Yarkon into the stadium, I was standing towards the back of the line, then I watched as the bridge slowly collapsed in front of me. A moment of surrealism followed by panic, chaos, tears and devastation.
Nothing more to be said.
So, for me Israel turned out to be much more than the usual destinations. More than just Masada, the Kotel, the beach promenade in Tel Aviv and the Dead Sea … Although the latter did provide me with hottest place I have ever been to. Arriving at the southern end, a digital sign told me it was just a lazy 47 degrees Celsius.
It’s so many things all mashed together in one tiny part of the world, and it’s old, really old.
It’s the stunning beauty of the landscape down south, almost like pre-history, with wild ibex sitting atop rocky outcrops – and one in particular, named Yehezkiel by the locals.
It’s the magnificent ornate ancient synagogues in Tzfat.
It’s getting lost in the maze of narrow cobblestone streets of the Old City.
It’s walking around Akko, and out of the blue being invited for coffee and biscuits to a house that the one family has called home for hundreds of years.
It’s a rooftop garden in Tel Aviv, watching the sun as it kissed the sea while setting over the Mediterranean.
It’s hanging out with my family and spending Shabbos with them in Holon.
It’s cats. Lots of cats. Everywhere.
And in 2009, it was the Bedouins of Kuseife, a small village about 35 kilometres east of Beersheba.
I was with my friend Wendy, and we were heading back to Tel Aviv, taking the path less travelled as they say. Late afternoon, middle of nowhere, and there they were; the young bucks of the village racing their horses. We stopped for a moment to watch and were invited to share coffee and tea. To this day, it was the best tea I have ever tasted. There were probably around 100 Bedouin men from little kids to village elders, all enjoying a relaxing afternoon. We stayed for around an hour, watching the horses and enjoying their hospitality, but the sun was setting and it was time to leave.
As I said, my Israel is a lot of different things; it’s not quite home, but who knows, it could have been.
It’s been too long since I’ve been back to see her, hopefully there’s a reunion on the cards soon.
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- Collate 10 to 15 high-resolution images from a trip to Israel.
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