After long weeks of winter, when it was impossible to take pictures in the cold, spring came for a visit. The sun came out from behind the blanket of clouds, and the whole air warmed up. And so, like every Friday, I went to the market - and this time with a camera. Of course there was something to take pictures of.
On the way to the market, the wind is still cool. A girl with a yellow helmet trails behind her father, who strides forward with shopping bags in his hands. In the first picture I took, she didn't notice. In the second picture, she froze. Looking at me in shock. From afar, her father turns towards her, and when he saw that they were taking pictures - he shouted: "Smile." .
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At the entrance to the market, but not in the hustle and bustle, actually on the other side of the train tracks, stands a group of klezmer musicians. Their playing is heard well. Those who come here only come to hear them specifically, and not to see a show. And why don't you play inside the market? I asked - and they answered almost in unison: "It's crowded there, and those who really want to enjoy the music can't make it.".
We enter the market. At the entrance, Dahan catches us, and David Hasson stands up and asks for a photo. I take a picture. Then he asks for another photo: "With shopping for Shabbat, so they don't think we came to drink beer.".
Full-time babysitter. A trip back and forth to calm the baby in the stroller, completely focused, and not noticing the camera, but from behind the old man saw the camera clearly, and asked me with a smile: "So, we'll see if there's a market in Haredim10 this week?""
Tsiki Frank arrived at the concert of an oligarch starting in Russia. He looked defiantly at the camera, while his friend spoke with the former person in charge of the placement of ultra-Orthodox soldiers in the IDF.
Yehuda Kisos is in a hurry to get through before I take their picture. Wait, I tell him, where are you in a hurry, maybe your daughter wants to take a picture? "You were supposed to have time to take a picture," he replied. "And if you didn't have time - that's your problem. And what's the girl's name?" I inquire. "Oh," he replies, "Shira." .
Eli Yishai, who is running in the Knesset elections at the head of a new list, arrived at the Mahane Yehuda market after earlier touring the Rosh HaAyin market. He takes selfies with anyone who asks, but for journalist Tal Schneider, it was enough to write a particularly offensive status about him: "If you can't pass the polls, at least you take pictures with pretty girls.".
Shocked that anyone was taking their picture, they continued to stare at me for long minutes, even after I had stopped taking pictures. Then I saw that because they were so busy with me, they hadn't noticed that the little baby had abandoned the stroller. I took the picture and informed them that their brother was missing... They immediately scattered in all directions and returned the abandoned brother to the stroller, where he sat happily munching on some biscuits.
""Why did you take a picture of us? What's so special about this picture?" When I showed them the picture, I said: It looks like you're sitting and drinking beer, and the supervisor is just checking that you're not making a mistake. They laughed.
''Dvir's friends' didn't give up on a joint meal and meeting this Friday either. They all arrived with their motorcycles. But as they walked down the open market avenue, their helmets slung over their shoulders, it seemed to many passersby that it was a poster for their next movie.
I hadn't even finished photographing the United Hatzalah bikers when I ran into him. His motorcycle number is hanging on his bag. Why? Why on the bag? What's the matter? I asked. "You understand," he replied. "Every time it gets hit, gets lost, gets wrinkled, I get reports from the police. This way the license plate is always exposed, visible while driving, and it's always on me. It doesn't break down, it doesn't get destroyed.".
And if I thought I had seen everything on my back this Friday, I was surprised to discover a group of friends who solved the storage problem in their backpack in a very interesting way: they put the drabuka inside the bag, and inside the drabuka they shoved all of Friday's shopping.
He resembles Moshe Glassner. He stood at the end of the street and stopped his friend Meir for a short conversation about his column and current affairs. Despite the two children jumping from left and right, his friend Meir stopped to explain, excuse, and calm the questioner.
""In honor of the holy Sabbath, in honor of the Sabbath," I heard him chant to himself, even after he had finished buying the vegetables. I asked him: What are you saying in honor of the holy Sabbath? You're not buying anything right now. He smiled, adjusted his glasses on his nose - and replied: "I say to myself in honor of the holy Sabbath that I came to the market early, and that way I will accept the Sabbath with an expanded mind.".
""Every strawberry from a million," the boy shouted. I quickly took a picture, before the roar left his mouth. I thought he was just passing by and shouting for fun. But minutes later he stood up and sold all the strawberries and bananas in the stall. He's a real salesman.
When I raised my camera to take a picture of him, he in response raised his phone and started taking pictures. So, if you see pictures of me in the Mahane Yehuda market, or actually a video, you now know as well as I do who took the picture.
I'm looking for a place to eat. We're going to see if Midnight Steakhouse is still open at this hour. On the way, two friends on a motorcycle ask for a nice photo. We stop. I take a picture. "Wait, you didn't take a photo. We didn't see a flash." I show them the picture on the screen. "Haaah, how beautiful," they say, and get on the motorcycle.
My friend Meir has finished shopping. I'm waiting at the steakhouse for the ready-made meal I ordered (if you're really curious, it was Margez in pita). I see him coming down from the market with his children, along with some shopping for the battalion. Plenty of salads. It's worth staying with them on Shabbat, I think to myself.
Yonatan Razel leaves the store with a bottle of wine in his hand, rushing home. I don't even have time to pick up the camera and he's already shaking himself in my arms in various ways. "I just bought some wine and it's already making my head spin, have a good Shabbat," he tells me and continues, all smiles, onward.
""You saw the eggplant, take a picture of it, just take a picture of me making an eggplant face." And so, with a special eggplant look, he stood up to have his picture taken at the market, holding the biggest eggplant he could find.
''Shabbat announcers' are already roaming the market, asking vendors to close their shops for Shabbat. A passerby tries to understand why they are roaming around an hour and a half before Shabbat. "Isn't that early?" he asked. We didn't stay to listen to the answer. We hurried to get ready for Shabbat.
From the side, the entire scene is concentrated in the camera's viewfinder, capturing the atmosphere of the market. I preferred to focus on it. Without the photographer and without the documentation, those who have not tasted Mahane Yehuda would never know about this experience called 'Mahane Yehuda'.
The first siren echoes in the air. I rush home. In front of me is the Tower of David. Even the birds nesting on top of the building spread their wings for Shabbat. They flew to the Western Wall, until after Shabbat. Shabbat Shalom.
