Book Review: ‘Wanderer’

Wanderer: The Ultimate Hippy Trail Journey by F.T. Burke with Steve Reifman, Nightingale Press, © 2018, ISBN 9781945-257278; 461 pages including acknowledgments.

By Donald H. Harrison

Donald H. Harrison

SAN DIEGO – Co-authors F. T Burke and Steve Reifman both backpacked across Europe and Asia as young men, and this novel combines their experiences, and perhaps some imaginary ones, into a story about the exploits and explorations of the fictional character Steve, known to his traveling buddies as “Woodstock” because he had attended the famous 1969 Woodstock Music Festival.

It’s a story that includes plane, train, bus, car, and acid trips; hookahs, hook-ups, and hookers; backpacking, cheap hotels, mind-blowing drugs and scenery, and occasional reflections upon the oneness of God, and the possible meaning of life.  Given that Reifman is Jewish, and Burke a Christian, the amalgamated character of Steve appears to be at home in either religion– and others as well.  As he works his way in 1970 and 1971 in a liquor, drug, and sex-fueled trek east across the North African and Eurasian land mass, and then back again, he goes to St. Peter’s Square to hear the Pope, participates in an ersatz baptism with friends in the Jordan River, visits mosques and temples, and even gets to stand before the Dalai Lama.

Incidents of Jewish interest in Europe are brief stops at the “Mazel Tov Café” in Amsterdam at the beginning of the trip, and a visit to the Anne Frank House on the way back.  The visit to the hiding place of the world’s best known Holocaust victim was sparked by a tragedy that had occurred in the Himalayan Mountains of India where Steve had witnessed Leo committing suicide.  Leo was distraught over the extent of the depravity of the man he called  grandfather but who also was his father, having raped his own daughter, Leo’s mother.  Even though Steve told Leo that as a Jew, he did not hold him responsible for his father’s/ grandfather’s Nazi past, the young man nevertheless hurled himself off a cliff.  His last words to Steve were, “My entire life is a big lie.  I can’t live with the tainted blood running through my veins.”

Between Europe and the Himalayas, Steve stopped in Israel where he worked on Kibbutz Ayelet Hashahar near the Lebanese border and later toured other parts of the country, including Jerusalem.   In the kibbutz, where he worked in chicken coops and in the dining hall, among other chores, he found that while the regular kibbutzniks were pleasant to the volunteers, they had their own social life and kept to themselves.  “It makes for a weird dynamic,” he observed.  “The people you see all the time don’t  want to become too friendly, and the people that are friendly [fellow volunteers] are here and gone, replaced with newbies.”

Camping with a temporary girlfriend in the desert near Eilat, they awakened “to the flashing of small artillery rocket fire going off above our heads.”

Lisa and I hold onto each other, frightened out of our wits.  Are we going to die together out here in the desert?  We can hear some heavy vehicles moving about in the vast arena of the desert from the Israeli side. Rocket fire continues overhead from the Jordanian side.  The air is still thick with a misty haze type fog.  We can hear voices and shouts from either side of us.  But we can’t see anybody.  Lisa and I huddle together under our sleeping bags.  Some more rocket fire continues overhead.  Lisa begins crying and she can’t stop.  I shush her to be quiet and hug her close to me.  We are both trembling with fear…

Later, in Jerusalem, they visited the Kotel, where Steve put his hand on a stone and prayed for “world peace, for love, and the brotherhood and sisterhood of all mankind.”  As he left the Jewish site, a Christian woman came up to them, saying “Love is everywhere my friends.  I am love. You are love.  Dissolve all hate and negativity in your heart.  Give your heart to Jesus Christ and you will see a transformation of your soul.”  She gave Steve and Lisa a copy of the Bible including both Hebrew and Christian Scriptures.

Traipsing through the Lebanon, Syria, Turkey, Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan, Steve was greeted with both kindness and hostility. In some places, the long-haired hippie was jeered, and even thrown stones at; yet, in other places he was offered free meals and lodging, and nothing but friendliness. However, Nancy, one of his female companions was afraid to venture outside without male companionship, lest she be accosted on the streets. At two different points in the journey, Steve had to fend off homosexual advances that sounded so similar that a reader might wonder if the authors had forgotten they already had told that story.

Months later, he met a naked Sadhu covered in ash in Varanisi, India, whom he likened to an actor, emulating one of the Hindu divinities.

“All of us holy men are emulators of the divine,” the ascetic replied.  “Actors as you say, but unlike actors, we live it every moment of every day. A Sadhu doesn’t get to say, ‘I’m only acting, now I will go back to my real life.’  This is our life.”

Towards the end of the year-long trip, Steve concludes that there are good people to be found everywhere. “In fact,” he added, “I’ve seen God everywhere in all lands … especially in the eyes of His blessed creation. I sense it, I feel it, I know it. Namaste!”

There are many routes to religious conviction, but the drug-taking, backpacking odyssey of an American hippie with an assortment of temporary traveling companions may be one of the strangest yet.

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Harrison is editor of San Diego Jewish World.  He may be contacted via donald.harrison@sdjewishworld.com