As we move towards our last week in Penamacor, I find myself looking forward, in a way that I never have before, to returning home. Usually, a month out of Israel is a welcome escape from the constant barrage that is the Israeli news cycle. If, as Harold Wilson is often reported as saying, a week is a long time in politics, then in Israel a day is a very long time in the newscycle.
The upside of that, usually, is that if you miss a couple of hourly news bulletins, most of what you have missed may never be mentioned again in the news, so you can feel that you haven’t really missed anything. However, we live in times that are, of course, far from usual, and I feel very cut off from the Israeli pulse.
For the last two months, my staple news supply has been a thrice-daily digest distributed to a quiet WhatsApp group. The organisation that is responsible for this feed is dedicated to presenting news in a non-sensationalist and dry format, and it has certainly made the news easier to digest. Bernice and I are continuing to read that regularly here, but I realise that what I am missing is more the reactions to the news: the radio and TV interviews and background pieces, the exchanges between radio presenters.
Occasionally on my morning walks with Lua, I manage to catch one of those morning programmes live, and even more occasionally I listen to one from the archive. However, I am following events much less closely than I would be if I were in Israel, and I am also failing to read online the range of opinion pieces in the paper that I would read in Israel.
That sense of isolation is, of course, only increased by the fact that I don’t share a language with the kids’ neighbours, and so cannot get involved in discussions with them. I suspect, anyway, that their interest in, and knowledge of, Middle Eastern affairs is pretty limited. Indeed, I am not at all sure that they have any interest in current affairs generally. This Sunday saw Portugal go to the polls in a general election triggered by the resignation of the centre-left prime minister after a long series of corruption scandals. This is against a background of spiralling housing prices in the big cities, salaries well below the EU norm, an ailing health service, and economic stagnation.
The election produced a very narrow lead for the centre right over the centre left, these being the two parties that have, alternately, governed the country since the Carnation Revolution of 50 years ago. However, potentially the most interesting development is that the only recently formed extreme right party almost tripled its share of the vote, winning 48 of the 230 parliamentary seats. To give you a sense of the party’s platform, among its more interesting policies is chemical castration for sex offenders. Meanwhile, the centre-right won 79 and the centre-left 77 seats.
Interestingly, both before and after the election, the centre-right party pledged that it would not seek a coalition with the far-right to form a government. The centre-left announced that, in that event, if the centre-right sought to govern without an absolute majority, the centre-left would not act to bring down the government.
Government corruption? The rise of the far right? Electoral instability? Coalition governments? No wonder I feel homesick.
All of this has, I imagine, made for a spirited election campaign. However, walking around the village over the last two weeks, and even on election day itself, I saw absolutely no signs of an election: no banners, no posters, no loudspeakers. Of course, the entire electoral district of Castelo Branco, in which we find ourselves, returns only 4 of the 230 members of the legislature. Although it is geographically one of the largest districts in Portugal, it is also one of the least densely populated,
I can, however, tell you about one poster. One of the political scandals that led to the government’s downfall involved a police raid on the home of the Prime Minister’s Chief of Staff, a raid which uncovered a large sum in cash. Apparently, IKEA has launched a poster campaign in the big cities, featuring a bookcase with the following slogan: Good for storing books. Or €75,800.
Earlier today, Bernice and I went with both the boys to the local supermarket, to start our purchases of provisions for Tao’s birthday party next Sunday. As I was returning the trolleys after loading the car, a woman in her 60’s greeted me with a cheery ‘Shalom’. This is, of course, one of the advantages of wearing a kippa. At least, for most of my life, and in almost every country I have been in, it has been an advantage. I have struck up many enjoyable conversations as a result of advertising my Jewishness.
These days, of course, I would hesitate to wear a kippa even walking around one of the big cities of Portugal, let alone anywhere more aggressively antisemitic. However, in Penamacor, everyone knows who Bernice and I are, and what our background is.
Anyway, this lady introduced herself as a Belgian who has lived in a village a few miles away for the last three years. She clearly feels an affinity with Jews, because she mentioned a number of Israelis that we have met. She also expressed sympathy and concern for what we are going through now in Israel.
In the course of our conversation, she mentioned an Israeli whom we have met several times. Retiring early from a successful career in Israel, he moved his family (his wife and, I believe, six children, from kindergarten to high-school age) to Portugal, bought a piece of land, and had a family home built on the land while renting a house in Penamacor. He and the family clearly lead a very traditional Jewish life, and Bernice and I have speculated about how the family would cope, particularly as the children approached marriageable age.
Well, my new-found Belgian friend informed me that his oldest boy insisted that he wanted to accept his call-up to the Israeli army and so the family are letting out their newly-built house and have all returned to Israel. When I asked her whether she thought they would return to Portugal, she was sceptical. I must say I share her scepticism.
Other than that, there is little new to report from here. The weather has swung between fairly heavy rain and bright sunshine, so we have been able to get out with the boys on several occasions. Later this week, if the planets all align, Bernice and I are planning a half-day in Castello by ourselves, including lunch, before we enter the mad turmoil of the last few days with family birthday celebrations, Shabbat, a party for a couple of Tao’s friends, laundry, packing and saying our farewells until our next visit which, we hope, will manage to include both Michael’s and Ollie’s birthdays, which will give us a calendar grand slam.