Etj wull aul von daut eensaume enn een bät velohtnet Darp Ber Sheba mie den Saund vonne Feet steete enn wajch, bloß wajch gohne aus mie doa waut nohm Siede trock. Doa lach een Tjoatjhof, enn dee fruag mie, aus etj ahm nich een bät de Eensomtjeit vedriewe kunn. Enn soo jintj etj han.
Mett Tjoatjhäw ess daut een bät soo's mett eene oole Taunte: eena traft dee noh väle Joahre wada enn haft sich ennalich reedjemoakt; dit mol woat sie mie nich tjriee! See tjemmt dann oba met eemol von hinje oode vonne Sied aun enn sajcht: "Na Jung, woo ess'et met Dien Bennaschtet bestallt?" Enn dann veschorrt eenem aul daut Ütwendig-jeleade, enn eena fangt aun too stottere, enn sajcht eefach: "Aules goot, jo aules ess o. k., Taunte Jreta, aules ess kratjcht soo's daut mott" oba eena jleewt sich sien eajnet Jeschnauta nich gaunz. Enn de oole Taunte Jreeta weet daut uck fuats, enn held eenem faust, enn tjitjt eenem derjch enn derjch mit äahre näjentigjoasche Uage enn uadeelt: "Na, etj head aundret, oba ditmol woa etj die daut noch jleewe. Oba bäta Die, daut kunn soweso nuscht nich schode. Bütadem ritj etj Piepetobak, wann Dü dijchtbie best." Enn dann jeit eena ennalich seea aufjemuckat auf. Enn leat lieseltjess ütwendig, waut eena daut näachste Mol saje woat, wann se eenem aum Schlafittje toohoole tjrijcht. Jo, soo jeit eenem daut mett de fromme Tauntess, dee hanenwada sogoa em Droom mett de selwje Liea oppducke.
Enn, soo's etj aul säd, nuscht aundasch jeit mie daut, wann etj eenen Tjoatjhoff beseatje doo: daut send je mau Doodes, dentjt eena. Jeist han, nemmst die den Hoot auf, enn sajchst "Ruhe sanft" enn doamett soo goot. Oba, measchtens, weit gefehlt! Doa räde sogoa maunche Steena, enn habe noch dit enn jant too bestalle, enn bett eena foadig ess, ess eena meed, enn nohdentjlich, enn tjnirr; jo, sogoa een bät vebruckt.
Kratjt soo sull mie daut vondoag doa opp dem oolen, seea oolen Tjoatjhoff enn Voda Obraum sien Darp gohne. Bloß schlemma, wiels? Jo, wiels, miene Been muake sich selwstendig enn nauhme mie noh hinje, noh de freschre Jräwa han. Enn doa oppe lintje Sied enne tweedlatzte Räaj, dee dredda vom Enj wea dee, woona mie lieseltjess toojeroopt haud.
"Hier ruht in Gott, Jakob Höppner, geboren in Virgil, Ontario, Kanada am 13. 07. 1928; am 17. 08. 1967 in der Ferne ertrunken. Wie Du mir, ist Dir getan."
Een Uagenbletj beneid etj mien Voda, wiels dee bie soone Aunlausse weens eascht seea mett sien Jebiss klackad, eea hee een nieen Jedanke foate deed. Oba etj haud tjeen Jebiss mett dem etj klackre kunn. Etj foll meest omm, wiels hiea, weens achtdüsend Miel auf von doa woa hee hanjehead, lach een Joakob Happna, enn kunn mie nich mol vetalle, waut hee hie too lidje haud. Enn dann noch mett soone jeheeme Schreft opp sienem eenfachen Steen. Oba, oba, waut nü?
Etj forscht enn deed. Aus etj Happna sien Grauf fung wäa daut Joah 1977; woomäjlich haud hee hiea aul tien Joah gaunz auleen jeläje. De Tjoatjhoffwajchta wisst dit enn jant, oba daut holp mie nich välwaut. Eent wisst hee oba doch: Joakob Happna wea en Australien jestorwe, enn donn haud irjendeen Jüd doafäah jesorjt, duat se de Leich hiehan brochte, enn ahm hiea begroowe. Een Moses Mendelssohn haud den Transport betohlt, enn uck den Graufsteen. Oba wäa dis Mendelssohn wea, wisst uck de aufjedankda Rabbiner nich. Etj leet ahm miene Adrass, enn hee vespruak mie, hee wudd sich de Sach aunnehme.
Daut died bett den alften Novamba aune sassenäjentig bett etj daut Jeheemnis endlich eenjemohte rüthaud.
Joakob Happna wea aus tjliena Jung een groota Ooltnäs jewast. Nich bloß een Ooltnäs, hee wea uck een Gernegroß. De Tjrijch wea vebie, de Soldote kaume tridj enn haude jewaultje Jeschichte too vetalle, enn väl Mensche horjchte too, enn besondasch de Mäadtjess. Enn Happnasch Joakob head daut, enn kaum sich bie aul dem mau een bät oschuldijch väa, oba hee stund besied enn schnackt opp. Boold wisst hee uck, woo'ret mußt, enn so fuah hee noch en dem Hoawst noh'm Oaftpletje noh Buffalo enne Stäts enn kofft sich eene Uniform im Army Surplus. Eea Joakob sich fe de rajchtschuldje entschloot, pausst hee een poa aun, enn meschead soo een bät verrem Speajel han enn häa. Hee mußt sich jrodentoo wundre, woo'ret ahm mett eemol soo gaunz aundasch sach, enn woo hee sich soo niejebuare een dem Militäaunzug feeld. De Auldach wea metteenst düsend Miel auf enn de Tookunft verre Däah.
Meist äwanacht wea de Aupelpletja Happnasch Jakie een Leutnant Jake Heffner, Jr. mett siene amerikaunsche Uniform, enn wea opp'em Plezheaschepp tweschen Niagara-on-the-Lake enn Toronto auntotraffe. Von aule Siede kaum Beea, frie, enn Leutnant Heffner siene Jeschichte vom Tjrijch worde emma jewaultja. Hee tjreajch aus amerikaunscha Offiziea de Foat emma omsonst, daut Beea sowesoo, enn de Mäadtjess uck.
Boold reisd hee opp eenem Schepp enne Stäts, enn doa jintj daut niee Läwe eascht soo rejchtig loos, oppe "Midnight Cruises." Bett eene Foat, aus dem Leutnant Jake Heffner, Jr. mett eemol eena oppe Schulla kloppad. De ahm oppe Schulla kloppad wea een Mendelsohn, woona ahm de Uniform enn Buffalo vekofft haud. Oba dis Tjeadel wea ein wertelja Offiziea. Nü jintj dis Offiziea met Joakob een bät Unajräd unja veea Uage hoole, hinje opp'em Schepp. Noh eene haulwe Stund kaum Joakob auleen tridj. Enn tiedig aum näjchsten morje veschwung Happnasch Joakob, alias Leutnant Jake Heffner, Jr. soo's de Jüd enna lange Nacht.
Joahrelang nuscht nich, tjeen Wuat von, ooda äwa, Happnasch Joakob. Bett mett eemol eene tjliene Nohrejcht üt Australien kaum, daut een Joakob Happna doa opp jeheime Oat vedrunke wea.
Daut äwaje stund je dann opp dem Graufsteen enn Ber Sheba enne Negev Wieste em Saund.
I was just going to kick off the dust from my feet and leave the lonely and rather deserted town of Beer Sheba behind when something pulled me to the south. I am mystical by nature, and a churchyard lay there and it seemed to ask that I might take a little time to disperse it's loneliness. So I went.
Now churchyards are a bit like old aunts: one meets them after many years and has thoroughly rehearsed for the encounter; this time she's not going to get me! But then she quietly sneaks up on you from the back or a dead angle and says, "Well, boy, how are things with your soul?" And you forget all your preparedness, your adulthood and hear yourself answering, "Everything is well, yes, everything is okay, Aunt Greta, just as it ought to be," but one cannot quite manage to believe one's own stream of claims. The old aunt knows this right away and holds one fast and looks you through and through with her ninety-year old X-ray eyes while pronouncing her verdict; "That's not what I've heard, but I am prepared to believe you this one time. Now you just go on and better yourself, that can never hurt. Also, I smell pipe tobacco whenever you are close by." You leave, having lost a lot of inner weight in seconds. Heading off, you are already learning by heart your future defence when next she will grab you by your lapels. That is the way it is with pious old aunts who even surface with their hurdy-gurdy maelstroms in dreams.
That's just about the way it goes when visiting a churchyard; they are only the dead, one muses. Just hike over, doff your hat, wish them "Rest in Peace" and leave it at that. But, mainly, you miss the mark by a long shot. Even stones there manage to talk and have a message, and by the time you leave the silent yard, you are tired, reflective and spent.
That is just the way things happened on that old, very old churchyard in Father Abraham's town. And even worse, because suddenly my legs became independent and took me to the back, to the fresh graves. There to the left in the second last row, the third one from the very end was the one who had silently called out to me.
"Here rests in God, Jakob Höppner, born in Virgil, Manitoba, Canada on 13. 07. 1928; died by drowning in a far-away place on 17. 08. 1967. What you did unto me, has been done unto you."
For a moment I envied my father who, at such moments, clicked and clacked with his dentures while inventing a new thought. But I did not even have dentures with which to bridge the vacuum of reflection. I almost fell over; at least eight thousand miles from where he belonged, lay one Jakob Höppner and he was not even able to tell me how it was that he came to lie here where he didn't really belong. And then the secret inscription on a very plain stone.
I researched and asked and cast about. When I chanced upon Höppner's grave it was 1977; it was just possible that he had been lying here for all of ten years. The churchyard custodian knew a bit of everything but that was not much help to me. There was one thing he knew: Jakob Höppner had died in Australia and some Jew had taken it upon himself to bring his remains here and have them buried in Beer-Sheba. A man called Moses Mendelssohn had paid for the transport and also for the grave-stone. But who this Mendelssohn was is something this retired rabbi did not know. I left him my address and he promised he would look into the matter.
It was not until November 11, 1996 that some light was finally shed on the mystery.
Jakob Höppner had been a bit of a cocky smart-ass as a kid. Not only a bit of a smart-ass, he was an ambitious wanabe. The war was over and the soldiers returned and had awesome stories to tell and many people listened, particularly the girls. When Höppner's Jakob heard real-life episodes from far away he felt like a greenhorn but he stood to the side and took everything in. Soon he knew how to go about things and that very autumn, after fruit picking, he went to Buffalo in the States and bought a uniform in an Army Surplus. Before he made the final choice, he tried on a few military suits and then he let the full-length mirror do the rest. Jakob was surprised and pleased at the conversion a snappy uniform cast on his person; he stepped into a new identity, leaving the ordinariness of everydayness behind. His past seemed a thousand miles away and his future lay just before the door.
Overnight the apple-picker Höppner's Jakie was Lieutenant Jake Heffner, Jr. in his American uniform and could be seen on cruises between Niagara-on-the-Lake and Toronto. Beer, gratis, came from all directions and Lieutenant Heffner's stories about the war became ever more heroic. His passage was free, after all he was an American officer, and beer and girls surrounded him at no expense.
It was not long before Jakob took his stories to ships in the lakes of the States; on the "Midnight Cruises" he flourished into full fame. Until one trip when someone silently tapped Lieutenant Jake Heffner on the shoulder. The man who tapped his identity was one Mendelssohn who had sold him his uniform in Buffalo. However, this fellow was a real officer. He and Jake walked into the silence of the night to the quarterdeck for a talk between "four eyes." Half an hour later Jakob returned alone. The cruise was over at dawn and, Höppner's Jakob, alias Lieutenant Jake Heffner, Jr. disappeared into the long night of silence.
For years there was no word from or about Höppner's Jakob. Then, suddenly, a brief blurb from Australia, stating that one Jakob Heppner had mysteriously drowned.
As for the rest? It was there for the reading on the gravestone in Beer-Sheba in the sands of the Negev Desert.