Last night, Kibbutz Yahel had, what they called a “farmer’s market,” although, instead of food, they had tables full of arts and crafts, jewelry and pottery. When we (roughly 30 people from Kibbutz Lotan) arrived, we immediately found our friends from Netzer, the international reform Zionist youth movement, similar to my youth group, North American Federation of Temple Youth. About a week ago, they came to Lotan for a pot luck dinner. We cooked a meal for the seven of us, plus a few staff members and their kids, and all of the Netzer kids-a meal for about 35 people, all done in the solar oven and the taboon (mud-brick wood oven). We sat in our central geodesic dome, with one light and the moon, talking about our different programs and lifestyles on our respective trips.

The Netzer group has been in Israel since January and have participated in a few different programs. They stayed in Jerusalem for a while, and are currently working at Kibbutz Yahel. When they came for dinner, they work working in date packaging but have since moved on to onions as the date season is coming to an end.

It was nice to see faces in the crowded Yahel market, that were not from Lotan but who were still familiar. One of our friends was eating a delicious looking pizza pita that was only five shekels. Of course I had to check it out. That started us off on our journey through the carious tables of jewelry, clothes, and pottery. The jewelry was beautiful but expensive so I just wandered with friends. I found a table of necklaces and bracelets that made me stop. Rather than being decorated with glass beads or twisted wire, they were made from date seeds. What a brilliant use of date pits! They can’t be recycled because they don’t decompose-you would have mini date trees sprouting in vegetable gardens, or even the compost bin itself.

The man selling the date jewelry was just as interesting as his work. With thin dreadlocks that reached his waist, you could tell by his sun-weathered skin that the southern Aravah was not just the area in which he collected his materials, but it was also his home. I imagine him to work the land and not want to see any part of it go to waste.

As the festival wound down, I found myself sitting outside the Yahel café with my friends Sahar, Tor, Rotem, Ellena and Ben eating some pastries and drinking a coke (something I’d been craving for a few weeks that is hard to find on our kibbutz). I felt calm and relaxed, safe in this communal environment. I wasn’t thinking about homework or having to wake up early the next morning. Instead, I was thinking about the excitement of the people at Yahel’s festival and how the excitement was a mirror of that to which I have been a witness (and active participant) over the past week since Friday night dinner in the Sukkah, the start of Sukkot.

I can now see why many people insist Sukkot is the best holiday.