""Morid Hatel" is greeted by millions of Jews, starting on the first day of Passover. On the ground, however, things seem to be speaking for themselves a little differently, and Fridays that were supposed to be springy and fun - are filled with a cool breeze blowing strongly, and few people stay in the market for long. For example, photographer Yaakov Nahumi arrived at the Mahane Yehuda market on Friday, but fled after a short tour. Apparently, he and the baby were overcome by the cold.
So I briefly photographed those who were at the market. At least that's how we'll start the summer season of doing a market in the Haredim 10. Short, but concise.
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At the entrance to the market, singer-canon Dov Heller was seen with his son buying a shesak, while a discussion was going on between the two: Is it permissible to recite the blessing "Shechayinu" during the sefer on Friday or only on Shabbat? Judging by the packaging and the lack of a tasting tour in the market itself, it seems that the decision was made to say "Shechayinu" on Shabbat.
Minutes later, journalist Mandy Grozman from Makor Rishon and the nrg website arrived, wearing a hat and a suit. He left the hat in the car of one of the friends from Monday in Kfar Chabad, after the engagement of Shmulik Karsik (from Orek Haredim 10), since the next day he was going to the courthouse to cover the trial of Rabbi Yoshyahu Pinto. Dov Heller arranged the kilt for him, so that he would look like a Chabadnik in all his glory.
This is Israel Weinberg's son. Every Friday I saw him come with his parents to the market. Now, after many weeks of winter Fridays, he also went on a trip with his parents. He knows the market, but from the look he gave the camera, it seems he doesn't know it. In the coming weeks he will get used to it.
""Wait, how many fingers do you see?" he asked his friend, who was holding a bottle of beer while hanging out. When he gave the correct answer, his friend claimed he couldn't see well: there are actually four fingers here. This ended with the two of them buying a beer together.
My friend Meir, who just this week posted a snippet from my Facebook, arrived at the market with his children - whom he tries, by order from above, to keep out of the spotlight, and noticed me the moment I took the picture. He didn't recognize me at first, and this is what his thoughtful gaze showed.
Moshe Assulin, who was carrying his son Rafael's scooter, was too preoccupied with thoughts about his preparations for a trip with his son to Africa. On Saturday night, he already uploaded a photo to Facebook of the photography equipment he took for the trip. Maybe we'll get a huge gallery from him about Africa.
Activists of the Lehava organization, led by Benzi Gopstein, met in the market. Most of them refused to be photographed, especially since security forces were following their every move. But these two stood in front of the camera and smiled: "Publish, publish, no one can control us. This is a Jewish state. We will not allow assimilation.".
Minutes later, I met Zeevi Sofer with his brother-in-law, who had made an aliyah with a blessing from London. They sat and sipped beer. We took a selfie, and they invited me for a beer. It was delicious. The brother-in-law, who had made an aliyah to Israel, announced firmly: This is my first time at the market on Friday, but from now on I'll be here every Friday. What fun.
I finished my beer. Off to the side, at one of the intersections of the streets in the market, a guy was standing selling pirate flags with the symbol of the State of Israel. What did the poet mean? I asked, and he answered like a Jew: "Did you take a picture? If you took a picture, you probably know what he meant" - and refused to provide an explanation. Maybe you do?
Shimshon Wiesenstern is one of the ultra-Orthodox drivers at the 'Elite' company operating in Betar. A nice man with iron patience. One of his advantages, besides his name, is his physical size, which is reminiscent of the hero Shimshon. He is always smiling and patient. On Friday, he celebrated Shabbat with his parents and went shopping at the market.
I photographed Samson's daughter when I asked his wife, who was with him, where the rest of the guys were. She responded: "Oh, you mean 'Samson's foxes'? They stayed with grandparents. In the meantime, we went to the market." So here's a beautiful look at Samson's camera.
Meanwhile, in the market, the shops are closing quickly. In the center of the market, friends begin to play Kabbalat Shabbat in a slightly different style. The music is blaring and the horn player is playing a low bass sound, which makes hearts tremble in anticipation of Shabbat.
The guy's name is Ariel. He is a friend of Elazar Shomron, who sent him the photo I took at the very beginning of this section. I discovered these details while he was playing a guitar, on which two strings broke at once. So Elazar, our loyal reader, sent him this photo as well.
""Shabbat, Shabbat, Shabbat." Thus, as he walks, he whispers towards us. "But there's still time," I said, doubting myself and doubting him. And he continues walking and whispering in a low voice: "Shabbat, Shabbat, Shabbat, Shabbat" - until he moves away and disappears.
As it fades away and its voice echoes, another Shabbat announcer arrives. "Friends," he calls out, "go get ready for Shabbat." "We're doing Shabbat kabbalat now," one of the guys says. "And will you have time to get home?" he asks pleadingly. They answer: "Yes, they all live nearby." And he continues: "Go get ready for Shabbat.".
And now, only he has moved away and disappeared, and they arrive at a quick walk from the last shop in the market that was closed - the market's regular 'Shabbat warnings', making sure to make sure and announce to all the shop owners to close their shops. As they leave the market, they call out to the boys playing: "Shabbat, we need to go get ready for Shabbat.".
With a puzzled look, as if not understanding why I was photographing him, while I wondered what he was doing here, at such an hour, and how exactly he ended up here. A second later, when he realized I was photographing, he had already disappeared into the alleys of the market.
I leave the market, they both smile at me. I raise the camera to take a picture. The son/grandson is laughing all over the place, and the father/grandfather says to me: "I've already received Shabbat, so I can't tell you not to take a picture, so have a good Shabbat." Shabbat Shalom, I replied and ran home to get ready to receive Shabbat.
