Last summer, I visited Israel- the place of my childhood- for the first time since I moved to Colorado. It was important to me to experience Israel as a citizen, and not as a tourist. I knew that teens my age were then preparing for their mandatory 2-3 year military service. Although I consider myself fortunate to have the choice between army and college, I wanted to experience a taste of what my peers were about to endure on the brink of adulthood. So, I signed up for a week-long boot camp designed to give youth an idea of what being an Israeli soldier is like.

A few days into it, I was struggling. The being yelled at on the part of commanders, officers, and sergeants was hard. So were the pushups, the timed tasks, the standing in attention, the lectures on discipline. I wanted to connect with Israeli army life, and maybe even enjoy it a little, as it was about to become the lives of my old friends. I sought a redeeming factor to this mandatory service.

I found it with a few days to go. On the third morning, our commander gave my unit an assignment: to learn the meaning of the word “Barabak”, which is army slang. We asked an Israeli local the meaning a few hours later. She explained that it meant giving your all for something. I thought this might pertain to some army “mission” we’d get after lunch: I wanted to camouflage myself, crab crawl through a field, practice desert survival- do something that made me feel like a soldier! (Other than countless pushups).

Right after lunch, we were, indeed, presented our mission: Wash all the dishes. Our commander told us that the entire army base was fed, so there were hundreds of utilities to be cleaned. There was a record for washing all the dishes, and she planned to break it. To accomplish that, she explained, we needed to do it barabak.

This was not what I had in mind. How was I supposed to wash dishes barabak? But, as yes commander is the only acceptable answer to such commands, I marched into the kitchen with my unit.
For the next three hours, we labored on. We started off singing songs and exchanging jokes, until we noticed our commander come in and start helping. Suddenly, she was one of us. She was scrubbing, with her sleeves rolled up and sweat dripping down her face, intent on finishing the task on time… thoroughly, Barabak. My sentiment towards her abruptly changed. I understood she wanted us to beat the record for our own sakes- for our own pride and understanding of barabak. I felt truly touched. My unit and I saw her determination, and worked harder than ever before. We were going as fast as we could, attacking the filth of each plate furiously and ruthlessly.

We ended up missing the record by two minutes. But our commander congratulated us. We were truly barabak, she announced. It wasn’t about the time, it was about how we strove to beat it. Our commander was proud, and we could tell. We were proud, too.

I gained a lot from pretending to be a soldier for those few days. Never again will I address someone as my commander, get ready for bed in four minutes, shoot an M-16, stand in attention for hours … or complete my most intense mission by dishwashing.

Barabak tends to apply to the enemy line. To having a crucial operation, and following through with complete purpose. I love how the army also applies it to dishwashing. Barabak was the redeeming factor of army life. It’s not glory. It’s hard work, being a team player, accepting surprises, and yet treating everything as an experience. It’s an invaluable mentality, and I plant to keep it.