Chapter 73: Promised Land

Tamara

2098

Whatever it was that had defined Tamara's Jewish identity over the years, it wasn't her religious faith. Nor had it been her need to belong to the Jewish community. Her identity was more intangible. It was the sense of a shared tradition and what had been until recently a shared nationality. She'd never troubled herself about her Jewish heritage when she'd actually lived in Israel. It was only after she'd abandoned the nation of her birth to radioactive dust and vengeful Palestinians that she'd become concerned about what it meant to be Jewish.

So what was she now doing, travelling south to the outskirts of London on a dilapidated horse-drawn coach with eighteen other Jews, most of whom devoutly religious, to a kibbutz that had only recently been founded? What had persuaded her to seek refuge within her national and ethnic identity?

Tamara had made a genuine effort to settle down to life as a care worker in Morecambe, but it could never be something she'd really want to do for the rest of her life. Tamara didn't need reminding that it was a job and that for a refugee from the Middle East such a thing wasn't easy to find, but she was too easily disgusted by the needs of the elderly and incontinent to feel at ease in the nursing profession. Surely there was more to life than this?

And then Tamara heard that there was.

Many of the exiled Israeli citizens scattered throughout the Republic of England had concluded that there was no future for them in the refugee camps that the English government had grudgingly set up to shelter the unfortunate victims of foreign wars. The English had more than enough to worry about without the additional burden of thousands of stateless Israelis, radioactive Palestinians and famished Jordanians. The only possible course of action was for the tribes of Israel settled amongst the dark satanic mills to build a new Jerusalem in England's grey and drizzly land.

And one such place was Epping Forest. Once upon a time it had been a London park, but the law no longer had the power or authority to protect common land from settlement. The police force was overwhelmed by the rather more immediate problems of famine, plague, fire and civil disorder. The rule of law was no more respected or observed than the institutions of government that still debated great matters within Westminster City's reinforced concrete walls.

Tamara had made her northward journey from Surrey to Lancaster in far less time than it would now take her to return south, but that earlier journey had been paid for by the St. John-Easton estate. In comparison to her current travelling conditions, the journey by maglev train from London to Manchester and then by steam train to the faded seaside town of Morecambe had been one of unparalleled luxury. Tamara felt more grand than she'd ever felt before in the company of those so wealthy that they had no difficulty in affording such an expensive mode of transport. The journey south, however, was by a makeshift wagon that had once been a diesel-powered coach now to be pulled all the way by four sturdy farm horses whose real worth would be proven when set to ploughing the fields at the kibbutz towards which the travellers were headed. The roads on which they would travel were mostly pot-holed and sometimes barely roads at all, but at least this route along England's decaying road network was cost-free. It was far too expensive to use the motorways that were generally for the exclusive use of commercial transport and the relatively wealthy. And even if cost was no obstacle, a vehicle such as the one in which Tamara was travelling would never have been permitted through a tollbooth.

The other travellers on the coach came from all around Lancaster and the Lake District. Like Tamara, they'd heard about the expedition from Tobias who was the driver currently sat on the coach roof and urging the horses on. He'd travelled all the way from Epping Forest to the far North West of England on a mission to find suitable new recruits to the kibbutz. In fact, everyone was suitable as long as they were also Jewish.

Tamara walked from Morecambe to Lancaster on her first free day after she'd heard about Tobias' expedition from a co-worker. It was there that the man in whom she would later place her trust was camped out along with the horses that he'd bought from a local farmer and the coach that he'd requisitioned and re-engineered. Although she'd always been sceptical about living and working in a kibbutz, Tamara recognised that she now felt a real need to reassert her national identity. And after so long in the wilderness, she also wanted to live amongst people of the same culture as herself.

"There's no religious aspect to it," said Tobias. "The only thing we have in common is that we are all Jewish and that we want to preserve our Jewish identity."

Tamara could see that although Tobias wore a skull cap, he sported none of the other symbols of an orthodox Jew. He didn't wear a black suit or a white shirt. Nor did he have long sidelocks.

"What about political affiliation?" Tamara wondered. She would rather associate with goyim than spend time with Likud supporters who still blamed the misfortune that had befallen the Israeli state on anyone and everyone other than the Israeli people. Tamara had little patience for those who would happily blame Arabs, Americans and Europeans, but never questioned the conduct of the Israeli government over the preceding century.

"As I say, all we have in common is our Jewish heritage," said Tobias. "There will always be a variety of opinion about the cause for the Second Diaspora, but unless we make an effort to respect our differences then as a people we'll never recover from this setback."

So Tamara was now gathered together with new companions whose characters were exactly as disparate as the greater scattered Jewish community. Some were men, some were women and some were children. Some were orthodox and conservative. Others had opinions rather closer to Tamara's. But Tobias was right. All the travellers had in common with one another was their Jewish heritage.

Tamara had plenty of opportunity to get to know her companions as the coach trundled south along England's wretched roads. Not one of her companions shared the same opinion on the fate and fortune of the Jewish people with anyone else. By all accounts, the last two decades following the nuclear war had been universally traumatic. Tamara's experience was by no means unique, even though most of the others had lived in England for many more years than her. In fact, by virtue of having emigrated from the Promised Land within only the last decade Tamara had the distinction of being the person on the coach with the most recent connection with the land of their shared heritage.