The following is an adapted version of an article written by Barnabás Leimeiszter, originally published in Hungarian in Magyar Krónika.

Famous writer and humourist Ephraim Kishon, also known as Ferenc Hoffmann, wrote his book Ige-mige in his native language shortly after arriving in Israel, recording his first experiences in his new homeland.

Born in Budapest under the name Ferenc Hoffmann, writer and humourist Ephraim Kishon began his career at the satirical weekly magazine Ludas Matyi, then left for Israel, where he became one of the most popular authors in his new homeland within a few years: he made his mark on Israeli cultural consciousness not only with his satirical writings, but also with his comedy films. His first film, Salah Sabati (1964), won a Golden Globe.

His great success in German-speaking countries was a source of particular satisfaction for the writer, who had survived concentration camps. His name is not unknown to Hungarian readers either, as more than a dozen of his books have been published in Hungary.

The book Ige-mige, recently published by Magvető, takes its title from the nickname given to Hungarian immigrants in ‘Eretz Yisrael’ (the ‘Land of Israel’). It is notable for the fact that Kishon wrote this collection of humorous sketches in his native language shortly after his aliyah (Editor’s note: the immigration of Jews from the diaspora to the Land of Israel), capturing his first impressions of life in his new homeland. The blurb references the styles of Frigyes Karinthy, Ferenc Molnár, and Jenő Rejtő. However, the book’s weak point—unflattering for a satirical author—is, ironically, its humour. Perhaps due to shifting tastes, Kishon often comes across as more flippant than witty. That said, Ige-mige is still worth reading. While it may not provoke as much laughter as it did when first published over 60 years ago, it remains a fascinating portrayal of a Jewish state in the making and contains several brilliant passages.

‘He made his mark on Israeli cultural consciousness not only with his satirical writings, but also with his comedy films’

In it, readers are confronted with cultural and religious tensions, party strife, infrastructure that can hardly be called rudimentary at all, and the fatal combination of Mediterranean laxity, which then leads to the capricious despotism of bus drivers and endless queues.

Kishon has to contend with excessive, Kafkaesque bureaucracy on a daily basis: as a newcomer, he can hardly hope for more than to be allocated a one-room concrete shack in the middle of the desert, which would never be built, but in the process of which—in the author’s imagination—even the purchase of a ladder would be preceded by endless chains of patronage. In one of the most successful humorous sketches, God takes pity on the people of Israel at the urging of the minister of public supply and sends manna to earth, but the authorities collect it and distribute the heavenly food, which has lost its taste and texture, on ration cards.

The main subject of Kishon’s jokes is the ‘rationing complex’, that is, the ration card system: the only food available, the hated fish fillet, does little to alleviate the general hunger, even though the government press endlessly touts the successes of the food supply. Kishon comments: ‘According to the latest statistics, after lunch, not a single restaurant customer asked for paper and pen to calculate whether they were still hungry and, if so, how many calories they needed. After doing the math, the guest usually writes down a hundred times in a row: “I have no reason to complain, I got my calories, I’m well fed.”’ Everyone is waiting for food packages from abroad, but the government decides to confiscate them: ‘Anywhere else in the civilized world, we could resolve the issue by saying that Jews are responsible for the disappearance of the packages, but in our country, due to special circumstances, this is not possible…’

Another interesting feature of Ige-mige is its language, which is mixed with Yiddish and Hebrew expressions, explained in detail at the end of the book. In one of the most entertaining parts of the book, Kishon recounts his struggle to learn Hebrew. As always, the effort is worth it: ‘The harsh circumstances of life increase one’s vocabulary by about eight to ten words in a few months.’*

*All the quotes in this article were translated by Hungarian Conservative.

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