Volunteering for Sar-El was one of the better decisions of my life, in fact, one of the best. Of course, I wasn’t to know that at the time I contacted the New Zealand representative and made the necessary arrangements for the trip.

The first time I heard of Sar-El was more than ten years ago. Friends had done a couple of stints and had much to say about their experiences, mostly positive. My life at that time precluded any overseas travel, so volunteering with Sar-El was not an option. Nevertheless, I stored the information in my memory bank for a time when my situation would be different...

It was only in 2008 that the possibility of volunteering arose. I began researching Sar-El and looking at possible flights to Tel Aviv with Passover or Sukkoth 2008 in mind. However, the small, still inner voice seemed to be saying, “Sukkoth 2009!” not once but several times. It’s just as well I listened, as the group of volunteers in my intake were the best ever! I was meant to be with them.

The first step was to Google Sar-El. All the information regarding life with Sar-El was there along with comments from former volunteers. It sounded as though, in addition to the privilege of being of service to Israel and her army, an exciting adventure was in the offing. I was convinced!

The contact details for the Sar-El representative in New Zealand were on the website, so I phoned and found out even more. This dear lady, herself a former Sar-El volunteer, organized my application and proffered much useful additional information.

The trusty local travel agent, the only one in Kaitaia, the northernmost town in New Zealand and the closest to my home, suggested I fly Korean air as it was way cheaper than El Al. “No,” I replied firmly, “if I’m going to Israel, I absolutely must fly with the Israeli airline.”

As El Al doesn’t fly direct from New Zealand, Thai Air took me to Bangkok whence El Al provided wings for the rest of the journey. That in itself was an experience. Although the booking-in process was very thorough, it was done with much warmth. It was a great introduction to Israelis – no-nonsense yet laid-back, smart and efficient yet warm, and, in the main, non-officious. It was good dealing people who were not afraid to use their initiative.

Arriving in Tel Aviv at Ben Gurion airport was another pleasant surprise. When asked the purpose of my visit and replying, “Sar-El”, there was a beam of approval and no further questions. That was to be the case so often when entering bus and rail stations – security checks were shortened on presentation of the treasured Sar-El card.

Quite punctually, we were met, as promised, by young soldiers, barely out of their teens, or perhaps still in them, who organized us into groups and sent us off to our respective bases.

Prior to their arrival, we had discovered one another and among the new faces from many different lands was a South African. As I am originally from South Africa, of course there were the usual questions from an ex-pat about the situation there. Later we were to find ourselves room-mates in Tiberias in one of those strange coincidences that are so normal in Israel, where anything seems possible.

I also met up with a fellow Kiwi – we ended up at the same base and in the same room, to my delight.

It was astonishing to meet so many people who loved Israel and, surprisingly, even a few who were merely curious. Even more curious was that Israel, the most threatened country on earth, allows foreigners onto its army bases. If the volunteers were all Jewish, it might make sense, but many were Christians or people with no religious faith at all. No doubt the Sar-El screening process is as thorough as the boarding checks for El Al flights, but still, it does seem a little naive to allow foreign nationals onto army bases.

Later I was to discover that it is actually a remarkable public relations exercise and a great encouragement to Israelis. I cannot recall how many Israelis I met as I traveled, but all were amazed and deeply touched that people had traveled at their own considerable expense from the “ends of the earth” to work for free in Israel.

On arrival at the base we were informed by our madrich (sort of care-giver cum generalissimo), in his laconic manner, that if the location and type of work done were to be divulged, the divulger would have to permanently dispose of divulgees, so I will say no more, other than that it was near Tel Aviv.

We were shown to our barracks, introduced to our bunk beds and allowed to be settled and fed before being issued uniforms, taken to our work stations, allocated our work and introduced to our ‘bosses’. 

While not quite 5 star, the base turned out to be a lot less Spartan than the Sar-El information had suggested. There was air-conditioning, for which I am eternally grateful, considering the scorching heat, and, everything was clean and tidy. Meals were nutritious, generally tasty and generous. Hummus and cheese along with salad graced our platters at every meal. There was always fruit and bread along with tea and coffee. Sometimes there were treats such as chocolate milk or dairy desserts which cheered up the sweet-toothers such as myself. We dined in the mess-hall along with the Israeli soldiers and the civilian workers on the base – a nice touch.

There was much joviality when the uniforms were handed out, mainly owing to the fit, or rather, lack thereof. Once we had found items that sort of fitted, we looked the part, more or less, and began to feel we belonged. Although our ‘work’ seemed rather menial, it was actually very important for the well-being of soldiers who might face action, so we carried it out with great pride and earnestness.

My fellow workers, both Israelis and volunteers, were among the nicest people I’ve ever met and were a joy to work with. A warm camaraderie developed and we had many laughs, thanks mainly to the mischievous humor of one of our American journalists – there were two in our group – whose “quittin’ time” (in a Gone With The Wind southern accent) announced the end of the work day.

People are always the ‘main thing’ and at camp Sar-El, the people were extraordinary. There was our dear red-headed, quick-witted and very funny, soccer playing Cockney, who was totally estranged from the letter ‘H’; a bevy of charming ladies; a couple of brainiacs; and, a collection of really cool dudes of all ages. As a fan of that superb police series, NYPD Blues, it was comforting to have our very own (retired) NYPD cop on hand should there be any disturbance of the peace.

The majority of the volunteers were from the USA, but there were also Canadians, Britons, an Australian, two from the Netherlands, Russians, a Chilean, a Polish father and son, and, of course, the two Kiwis. A surprising number of the volunteers were Christians with a passion for Israel. One of them was volunteering with Sar-El for three months, and was going from base to base as each three week stint came to an end.

Israeli weekends run from Friday to Saturday, so on Thursdays we were bussed to Tel Aviv’s central station from where we set off on our various journeys of discovery.

Israel is amazing.

No words can describe the feeling of walking where the prophets walked, of entering Elijah's cave, of sailing on the Sea of Galilee, floating in the Dead Sea, traversing Masada, standing at the Western (Wailing) Wall with thousands of Jews from all over the world, celebrating Succoth with friends, and, observing the lives of ordinary Israelis going about their business. People just like the rest of us, but with challenges that we cannot imagine.

One of the highlights of my trip to Jerusalem was a chance meeting with an Orthodox family living in the Old City’s Jewish quarter. The four or five year old daughter was handing out free lemonade – she had wanted to sell it but felt people might not want to pay, so with a child’s logic decided to just give it away! She was very friendly and joyfully informed me she knew the alphabet, whereupon, she sang it tunefully and with great gusto. Her little brother was a beautiful boy with very impressive ringlets for one so young and astounded us with his intelligence.

Later when I visited the Holocaust Museum and the special hall for the children, I remembered these little ones and wept for those others who had not been able to make it to their homeland to be what they could have, should have, been.  

Several hotels and hostels give special rates to Sar-El volunteers, plus there are the soldiers’ houses (also hostels) that provide very reasonable accommodation at minimal tariffs, so it becomes quite feasible to see most of the country at the weekends. The bus collects its volunteers early on the Sunday morning and whisks them ‘home’ for another week of serving Israel.

Our Madrichot – Nachshon and Liron - organized fun evenings, informative guest speakers, and outings that were the cherry on the wonderful Sar-El cake. Hats off to them!

The most interesting and inspiring of our talks was given by a remarkable octogenarian, Zipporah Porath, who regaled us with her exploits during the 1947-48 siege of Jerusalem. Everyone bought a copy of her ‘can’t put it down’ book, “Letters From Jerusalem 1947-1948” and fell in love with her amazing wit, ageless intelligence and great heart. L’chaim, Zippy! What a joy to meet you!

When the three week Sar-El time came to an end, it was sad to say farewell to the many friendly feral cats on the base, to the kitchen staff, to madrichot, fellow volunteers, and most of all, to the great souls in our work bay. Shalom dear ones, you gave me so much more than you will ever know. Shalom Israel, you were even more wonderful than I imagined.

And, last but not least, todah rabah to Sar-El for allowing me to be a part of Israel, albeit for a short time only.