The last practice I gave at the university was grueling. Preparing, concentrating, and answering the talented students' questions required quite a bit of cognitive resources.
This is why, as I boarded the intercity bus heading towards Tel Aviv, I felt that an hour of rest and relaxation lay ahead of me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Gadi, a friend, a doctoral student in social work, also Haredi, sitting in the row of chairs next to me. He was in the middle of a conversation and I nodded my head goodbye and planned to fall into a kind of nap. But then the driver's voice was heard: "The guy with the phone, your conversation will probably last all the way to Tel Aviv, I ask you to be considerate and not disturb the people sitting around you.".
Gadi raised his head, clearly hurt, continued talking and after a few minutes ended the conversation.
I saw him get up from his seat and walk towards the driver.
Excuse me, were you talking to me? He asked politely.
Yes, the driver said firmly, you are disturbing my passengers.
Why, Gadi asked, still with sincere innocence, am I not allowed to talk on the phone on the bus? And why do you think I would have a conversation all the way to Tel Aviv?
""This isn't the bus to Bnei Brak here," the driver replied angrily.
At this point I stood up from my seat with blood flooding my face: "Why isn't he allowed to talk on the phone, what does this have to do with the bus to Bnei Brak?""
The driver raised his head - and said: "Did you forget to take your pills this morning?""
Despite the profound and intelligent argument, we decided to make an effort and not let up. We asked him again, by what right does he ask a passenger who is talking quietly - by the way, this was a professional conversation within the scope of the OS's profession - in front of everyone to 'consider the passengers', and again, how does this relate to the 'bus to Bnei Brak'?
The driver claimed that he was 'protecting his passengers', and that he always asks passengers not to talk [which is true], but we couldn't help but feel that the direct address to the ultra-Orthodox-looking passenger, as well as the bus's strange reference to the large ultra-Orthodox city, came out of nowhere.
At this point, the driver raised his head and said: "I don't want to talk about this, leave me alone, let go of me.".
""Why did we let you go," I asked, "you started this unnecessary verbal brawl." Or in simpler words: you started it.
""But you started it, but you started it," I shouted again like a child.
""Complain about me," said the driver.
We didn't complain.
It's not worth the time and effort. But this unpleasant argument that took place on the intercity bus taught me two important things:
A. It doesn't matter that Gadi's level of education - apparently - is ten times higher, if not higher, than that of the bus driver [and I don't mean to disparage the group of drivers, of course], he believes that if there is an ultra-Orthodox person in front of him, he is entitled to insult and harm him.
B. The days when Haredim hear insults and condescending talk and they continue to remain silent are over.
Join the Haredim 10 Facebook page >>
Join the X page of Haredim 10 >>
Want more news, videos and stories? Join the Haredim 10 WhatsApp channel >>
