1983-1984 Rothberg Yearbook

SPRING VACATION ON MINI-MARVA . ..
AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT
(The Marva program was designed by the IDF to give young people from outside Israel a chance to learn
more about the country, and specifically about life in the army. They have programs lasting three months, one
month, and through the OSA, ten days. The ten-day program closely resembles the Gadna program in which
Israeli high school students participate).
“I guess I did it because I ’m not the sort of person who likes to put himself through any unnecessary pain,
and Marva definitely falls into that category,” explained one of my companions.
It was 5:30 in the morning, and still difficult to tell if it was the weather or our brains that was foggy. We
stood by the flagpole in 3’s for what seemed the thousandth time, and I contemplated the pain in my legs and
the 30 minutes of running and exercises that lay in wait for us. It occurred to me that I had already realized my
primary objective in coming to Marva — getting away from university life. Indeed, it was hard to imagine that
we had ever been anywhere else besides the Gadna base in Tsalmon (near Carmiel), that we had ever been allowed
to roam around places at will, sleep later than 5, or to walk, not run to our destination. Most of us did retain
memories of better food, but that had been a very long time ago; four days at least.
Immediately upon arriving at the base, our bus had been seized by a tiny but intimidating hayelet with a
toy panda attached to her uniform. She shouted at us that we had 3 minutes to get ourselves and our stuff off
the bus and lined up on the basketball court. At least I think that’s what she said ;since they always spoke
Hebrew, it was kind of hard to tell at times, a good rule from thumb being to nod numbly and do whatever
the person in front of you did.
We made it to the basketball court and were told to line up in 3’s, which isn’t so easily negotiated by
people who have no experience of the IDF or the Rockettes. We fumbled around confusedly for a few minutes
while our madrichot yelled at us to “Hurry! Hurry! ” Lining up in 3’s, we were to learn, is very important to
the defense of the medina. You come to believe these things after a few days of starchy food, little sleep, constant
exercise, lack of privacy, and the fear of being sent to run laps. (In retrospect, I wonder if these circumstances
are similar to those in religious cults, but no matter). Other things that are very important in the army
include being on time, folding blankets properly, dusting over the door frame, waiting until they said “b ’taiavon”
before starting to eat, and making sure our canteens were dry for morning inspection. Once one of us
asked Lt. Hermon, who appeared to be running things, why it was so crucial to have dry canteens. “Because of
germs,” he replied. Well, we countered, if they were so concerned about hygiene, why did they have us doing
push-ups on the pavement before meals without giving us a chance to wash before eating? “There’s no logic
to it,” we were told, “but you have to do it anyway. The army isn’t logical.”
This makes Marva sound rather grim, all the cleaning and running and standing in 3’s, but it really wasn’t
that bad. Our group never got dragged out of bed in the middle of the night, we never had to do any stretcher
runs, all the people in charge were fairly decent, the tiyulim were unusual and well-led, the scenery fantastic
in spite of the rain, and our group, as we kept announcing to each other in moments of idiocy, was really
“b’yachad.” We ran around the obstacle course, went on hikes, had rocks thrown in our direction'that we
had to pretend were grenades, and dressed up as bushes and crawled around in the brush. We discovered that
if Marva was “a taste of army life,” that the army tastes a lot like bananas, 9% cheese, eggs, bread, and watery
chicken soup. We washed a lot of dishes, sang loudly and badly in the kitchen; it was sometimes fun.
Mini-Marva also has lessons in the use of the M-16. Guns aren’t toys, no matter how many neat parts
they have and no matter how much it reminds us sheltered Americans of the movies. It’s more than a little
It’s more than a little sobering to realize that those tough, official-looking people in uniform who defuse
bombs, drive tanks, shoot and get shot at are the same age as American college students, who have nothing more
serious to worry about than getting into law school or paying off student loans.
On the last night, we had a party, did some skits, and got to find out how old all our commanders were
and what were their last names. We got to act like real human
beings and they did too. We were relieved to be returning to
normal life, our relief punctuated by the knowledge that for
Israelis, the army is a 2 or year־‎3‎ reality, not just a 10-day game,
and that it involves things far more difficult, and often more
dangerous than our mini-Marva experience. It takes a bite out of
their lives and forces them to be perhaps more serious than 18—22
year-olds ought to have to be. Nevertheless, the army is a reality
of Israeli society that, sadly, isn’t going to disappear in the near
future. For those of us who particiapted in Marva, it is impossible
to look at hayalim anymore without seeing any further than the
uniform.