Protektzia, that is. :
Don’t worry, you’ve got it!
If you are at all familiar with Israeli culture – and you probably are if you’re considering living here – then you will have heard of protektzia.
The word conjures up images of mafia protection rackets (well it does to me, at any rate), but it is actually far more benign than that, and an almost indispensable feature of life in Israel. So what does it mean? Well, my Hebrew-English dictionary translates it as ‘influence with people able to grant favours’. I prefer to translate it in simpler terms less reminiscent of medieval royalty: it’s not what you know, it’s who you know. Cynics may call it institutionalized nepotism, but I prefer to view it as a by-product of the fact that Israel is basically one big family with many branches, and you look after your family, don't you? This salient feature of Israeli life may sound nightmarish to a prospective immigrant. What if you don't have family? Or friends? Or ex-officers from the army who can help you get that interview? Or the cousin in Bezek who will sort out the (innumerable) problems you have transferring your phone-line to your new apartment? What if you're a new immigrant who's heard all about protektzia and is worried that when the chips are down, you won't have anyone to call who can help you sort out your little/medium/huge problem. Well I'm here to tell you that you don't need to worry. Whether you know it or not, you've got protektzia. Or you'll get it as soon as you step off the plane.
How do you acquire the magical protektzia charm? Well there are myriad ways. I'll start with a personal example. When I made aliya, I knew very few people in Jerusalem. I had a sister here, but she was living in Petach Tikva – not much help for me in Jerusalem (other than moral support, of course). My closest friends were off living in a caravan in Efrat – again, not much help. The friend who was supposed to be making aliya at the same time as me and sharing an apartment with me had backed out (and is still, six years later, living in America). So having been let down by her at pretty much the last minute, when I arrived in the country I went back to my old yeshiva/seminary for a month while I looked for a permanent place to live. The dorms were quite full, so I was relegated to a basement apartment with very little in the way of furnishings, and nothing at all in the way of natural light. With me were three other women, one of whom I'd met previously, the others total strangers – until then. Despite the fact that our apartment became known (affectionately, and only between us) as the dungeon, we had a great time. And those two strangers, who became friends, were directly and indirectly responsible for finding me not only a great apartment to live in, where I lived for the next three years, but also my first job – and not only that, but my second job too!
How did this happen? Well, roommate number one (names have been withheld to protect the innocent) wasn't staying in Israel longer than a couple of months, but she knew plenty of people who were. And she had a friend in Katamon who needed a new roommate. Hey presto! I have a place to live. Once I moved into that apartment and met my three new roommates (and did ulpan, and settled into the community) my first job came about through one of my new roommates (who I never would have met if it hadn't been for the first roommate in semiinary, now long gone back to Australia). The new roommate had a brother who was looking for someone in my field. Did I get the job because my roommate was sister of the boss? No. But I knew to apply for the job because of her. And when that job came to its inevitable conclusion (hi-tech, no more funds, sound familiar?) my next job arose a few months later when roommate number two from the dungeon - who had, in the interim, been backwards and forwards between England and Israel several times – became my next boss! She had finally made aliya, and found a job, and had a position that was suitable for me. Again, I went through the official process – interview, internship for a month – but I wouldn't have known about the job if it wasn't for her, and I had her support. So all in all, my home and the jobs I had for the first four years I was in Israel came about through people I met in a dungeon during my first three weeks in Jerusalem. Not bad going for someone who doesn't have protektzia!
And if you're worried that you won't find a dungeon like I did (don't worry, you probably will), there are many types of institutionalized protektzia set up specifically for Olim. Chances are that the first thing you'll do when you get here is go to Ulpan - so you'll meet people in similar situations, who will become your friends – and more importantly, sources for future protektzia usage. If you live in Ulpan, or in an Absorption Centre, you'll have even more chances to meet people who will help you, and the people who run the place will set up plenty of information sessions where they'll put you in touch with people who will help you with everything from your banking to your medical needs. Then there are the organizations like the AACI (Association of Americans and Canadians in Israel) or the UJIA (formerly the BOS – British Olim Society) that are there specifically to help you. I've called the BOS on any number of occasions even if it's just to ask a question like 'what's the phone number of the unemployment office and what exactly do I need to take with me when I go there.' And then there are the mailing lists where people post news of everything from concerts to jobs to sofas for sale to requests for a plumber. In Jerusalem it's called janglo but there's one for pretty much every major town here, and probably the minor ones too. When I moved into an unfurnished apartment, I bought a fridge, oven and washing machine, all through janglo. Have you ever read the listings at the back of the Jerusalem Post? There are support groups for every letter of the alphabet – and then some. Just decide what it is that's your problem, or your need, or your interest – you'll find a group of people who want to meet you and who share whatever it is you need to talk about. Of course these are just the glaringly obvious examples for the anglo community. I'm quite sure there are Russian, and Spanish, and Ethiopian equivalents. I'm sure even native Israelis must have some!
I guess what I'm saying is, don't worry. In the absence of your old community, people create new ones. When you come home, you'll find out you have family you didn't know you had. And one day, you'll find you know someone who knows someone who knows someone, and you'll be helping the new immigrant yourself. Because you remember what it was like, when you thought you didn't have anyone to help you (but you were wrong). What goes around comes around. That's protektzia.
This article also belongs to the following subjects:
Aliyah InfoBase
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Life in Israel
Aliyah InfoBase
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Tachlis - Aliyah Advice from and for Olim
Aliyah InfoBase
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Useful Tips for the Oleh and the Veteran
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