MOSHIKO

Moshiko didn't like the soldier staring out at him from the mirror. He didn't look like the real thing though the uniform he was wearing was all right. The boy looked with disgust at the make-believe gun which made him feel ridiculous.

When Sammy, his big brother, had joined the army, he had bought Moshiko's outfit with his first pay, knowing how much the child admired him in uniform. For a boy of nine this was a most marvelous present. It was months before the Purim holiday when Moshiko would wear it, but till then all kinds of unforseen catastrophes might take place. No wonder the little boy had been all mixed up. On the one hand, he wanted to grow as quickly as possible, on the other hand, it would be a calamity were he to grow out of this uniform before he could wear it like a true soldier and receive the admiration due to him.

He returned home, disgusted with all that Purim represented. It was no longer the fun he had been looking forward to. His big brother was asleep, and Moshiko looked at his very own soldier's tousled head with love and admiration. He kept as quiet as a mouse, because he didn't want to wake him up. Moshiko's desire to get his hand on a real rifle was so strong that it obliterated his promise never to go near Sammy's Uzi. Anyway,he wasn't going to touch it, he would just look at it. Moshiko remembered that he was supposed to wake Sammy up at nine o'clock, so he decided not to look at the watch which was lying on the table. He knew that his brother wanted to spend as much time as possible with his pals who had also come home. The night before Sammy had been too tired for

Now the great day had arrived, the moment he had been dreaming about had come, but as things stood, much of its charm had been lost. Venturing out he saw that the streets were teaming with children disguised to perfection. There were thousands of cowboys, a lot of officers, army and navy, and Moshiko had nothing to prove that he was the brother of a real soldier. If he could find a way to show that he was more of the real thing than other kids, that would be great, but that couldn't be accomplished with that ridiculous gun on his shoulder.

words. He had sat down at the table,half asleep, had eaten like a

horse and after having his shower had gone to bed, reminding Moshiko a few times when to wake him up. For once Sammy had even allowed him to hold his Uzi after he had checked it carefully.

Moshiko remembered the feel of the gun in his hands. He knew where Sammy had put it. If he wanted to have a look at the gun or even touch it again, all he had to do was to open the wardrobe near Sammy's bed. How Moshiko loved his brother's wardrobe! There Sammy kept the toys he wasn't able to part from, but he allowed his little brother to play with them. Sometimes, when Moshiko's best pal Shlomi came for a visit,Sammy would take some toys out and the boys would promise to handle them with care. It was Sammy's secret wish that one day his own sons should play with them, but this he never spoke about. Only Moshiko knew the secret, because one day he hadn't been careful enough and Sammy had told him what was on his mind. He had asked him never to discuss this with anyone, and Moshiko had kept his word. He wouldn't talk about it, not even with Shlomi who was such a good friend and told him everything. Sammy had said that he would always love Moshiko,even if he lived long enough to have children of his own, and Moshiko  would play with his nephews and nieces when the time arrived. In the meantime he had Shlomi who was as good as a twin brother.  

Moshiko opened the wardrobe and looked at the deadly piece of steel, shining so enticingly. All he wanted was to look, but his arm acted on its own, picked the gun up and then quickly shouldered it. He went to the mirror. Now a real soldier was reflected in it. He felt that he had grown, and all of a sudden was even taller than Shlomi. He half-turned to the wardrobe to replace the gun, but instead put the disgusting toy gun there. Should Sammy open the wardrobe he would see it and understand.

Moshiko went out and joined his friends. It took a couple of minutes for them to realise that he was carrying a real Uzi. When they discovered it the excitement knew no limit. They all wanted to touch the gun, but he wouldn't let any of them come near. Shlomi, his best friend, knew that he was the only one who would be allowed to touch the gun, and approached Moshiko with a smile.

He was dressed as a son of the desert, wearing an agal and a kefiya, and a long white robe for which his mother had sacrificed

a white sheet. When Moshiko saw him his reaction came as a surprise to both of them. He pushed him away and Shlomi, thinking it a joke,tried to take the Uzi by force. Wasn't he Moshiko's best friend and had special rights? Since they were toddlers they had shared their sweets, toys and dreams.

"Are you crazy?" shouted Moshiko. "No Arab is going to touch my Uzi."

"But I am an Israeli Arab," explained Shlomi. "I'm your friend, soldier."

"Like Ali,the gardener," jeered Amnon. "Next you will tell us that your wife is a member of Wizo and your mother buys kosher meat."

It might have been a joke to the others, but Moshiko didn't think so. He was feeling an Israeli soldier in every pore of his being, and therefore he wouldn't allow any kind of Arab to touch his rifle. He was much too conscientious for that. Shlomi was no exception.

"I have to put the gun back," he shouted, running into the house. Heartbroken,he returned the Uzi to its place. What had happened? He had felt ready to defend the gun with his own life. He had been ready to kill Shlomi. It didn't make any difference that he had known all along that the rifle wasn't loaded.

It took some time for him to calm down.He felt ashamed for what he had done. He and Shlomi never fought, they were like brothers, but he had hated him. He had neglected to wake up his brother. What had he done to his own brother, the best one could have? Even though he had put his toy gun in its place, the fact was that he had stolen the Uzi.

"What happens to people when they dress up?" he asked himself. "In summer, we all look the same and there is no difference. Maybe we should ask all the people of the world to put on bathing trunks and to sit down with us. That way we would all become friends. When that happened his mother would stop listening to the radio all day long, and Sammy would be sure that he was going to see his children play with his carefully guarded toys.?