In October 1909, a large ship sailed from Odessa to the port of Jaffa. On board was the distinguished educator and public figure Petahya Lev-Tov (Guthartz) with his wife and son, as well as other Jews who were leaving Russia forever. Immediately after departure, the passengers realized that the intense heat and rolling of the ship would not allow them to enjoy the trip. Lev-Tov and his wife began moving their belongings to the center of the deck. A thin boy with beautiful eyes, a pleasant voice, and an unwavering smile rushed to help them. His native language was Russian, although his descent from Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob was undeniable.

The boy was traveling to Eretz Israel to study. His name was Alexander Eig. With the help of friends, his father had obtained permission from the Jewish Colonization Association (JCA) for Sasha to attend a school located in the oldest Jewish agricultural settlement in Palestine – Mikveh Israel. Everyone liked the lively, cheerful young man, and passengers always addressed him affectionately: "Sashenka, my friend."

Hardly anyone could have foreseen then that in a few decades, this young man would defend before the British Peel Commission the right of Eretz Israel to accept Jewish repatriates, and in scientific circles, he would be known as an outstanding expert on the flora of the Middle East, gaining recognition far beyond the region.

Alexander Eig was born on October 4, 1894, in the Jewish shtetl of Shchedrin in Belarus. When Sasha was still a child, the family moved to Minsk, where his father, Shmuel (Gregory) Eig, worked as a private teacher, teaching Russian language and other subjects to external students. A former yeshiva student, he was taciturn and reserved, but prone to daydreaming. Eig's mother, Shoshana (Rosa), also worked – she was a midwife, but still managed to run an extensive household. Besides Alexander, other children were growing up in the Eig family: boys Yasha and Misha and girls Berta and Genya.

In Minsk society, the Eig family was considered completely assimilated. Sasha's parents, like true "Russian intellectuals," sympathized not even with the Bundists, but with Lenin's "Iskra." And in sending his son to study at Mikveh Israel, the elder Eig was guided not so much by Zionist convictions as by the practical considerations of a sensible parent. After studying in a settlement under the patronage of Lord Rothschild, a capable young man could receive a referral for free education at the University of Nancy. In the future, there was, for example, the prospect of a career as an employee of the same JCA – whether in Russia or beyond its borders.

These plans seemed especially enticing against the backdrop of the harsh realities of Tsarist Russia, where Jews faced not only the notorious percentage quota in higher education institutions but also numerous other barriers to education and professional development.

In a short time, Sasha Eig mastered French perfectly, which was then the main means of communication and teaching at Mikveh Israel. However, he did not know Hebrew – very little attention was paid to its study at the school. Only three times a week, a teacher from Jaffa, arriving on a donkey, gave the students meager Hebrew lessons.

But soon Eig began communicating with young people from the Herzliya Gymnasium, and Hebrew "started flowing." Thanks to friends, he was soon accepted into this gymnasium, moving from Mikveh Israel to the developing Tel Aviv. His financial situation at that time was very constrained: the modest income from French lessons he gave to children of wealthy parents barely allowed him to make ends meet. If not for his parents' acquaintances from Minsk and simply caring representatives of previous Aliyah waves, it would have been very difficult. But there were many good people. For instance, when Alexander needed an appendectomy, Yaakov Shertok (Chertok), father of future political figure Moshe Sharett, took care of him in his home.

After interacting with his classmates from Herzliya Gymnasium and the Sharett family, Alexander Eig decided: he would not leave Eretz Israel! Especially since there was so much unexplored in the country, particularly its nature. Scientific research in this field in Eretz Israel was conducted predominantly by foreign researchers, while there were simply no native Jewish scientists.

From a young age, Alexander was fascinated by the mysteries of the plant world. And the boy decided to take the future of Israeli botany into his own hands.

Alexander's passion evoked condescending smiles from his classmates. Among the sea of misunderstanding, the only island of support was Eliezer Faktorovsky, a young man from Odessa who became for Eig not just a friend, but a true kindred spirit and faithful comrade for many years.

When news spread through the gymnasium that Eig and Faktori planned to transform the desert sandy area behind the school into a flowering garden, the mockery from classmates reached its peak. However, behind this seemingly whimsical venture was a practical calculation: the friends planned to grow fresh vegetables not only for their own table but also to sell to townspeople.

Despite the hail of jokes and teasing, Alexander and Eliezer tackled the task with the persistence of pioneers. Soon, neat garden beds appeared on the barren land, and the friends gained not only a source of fresh vegetables but also additional income, proving to everyone that behind their "eccentricity" stood a sober mind.

During the First World War, the Turks expelled almost all of the Jewish population from Tel Aviv. Eig found himself in the settlement of Gedera – together with Eliezer Faktori and his family. Here, the young men found a new wasteland – an abandoned plot behind the local distillery. Eig and Faktori decided to transform it into a flourishing garden, full of fresh greens and living plants. Their enthusiasm and diligence evoked – no longer from their high school classmates, but from all residents of Gedera – bewilderment rather than respect. The homemade irrigation system developed by the young botanists caused particularly many jokes. Tin pipes, old barrels, and a primitive lift seemed like a ridiculous construction to the locals – it all indeed looked strange. However, the design was quite effective. Behind this seeming awkwardness stood the ingenuity of the young botanists, who found a way to clean and use the contaminated water from the factory.

As the Turkish army suffered one defeat after another, pressure on the Jewish population intensified. And one day, Alexander Eig and his faithful companion were ordered to report to a recruitment center. Without wasting a minute, the friends, unwilling to shed blood for a cause foreign to them, left Gedera, disappearing into the night. They found temporary refuge in a small settlement in southern Judea. Here, away from human eyes, they led the life of hermits, satisfying their hunger with prickly pear fruits and roasted corn. Months dragged on slowly, and hunger became their constant companion, like a shadow following in their footsteps. However, even in these harsh conditions, the inquisitive minds of the young scientists knew no rest. Surrounded by wild nature, left to themselves, they eagerly immersed themselves in studying the local flora, observing it, exploring its features and secrets.

Fate played a curious joke on Alexander Eig and his friend. They were ready to hide from Turkish conscription, enduring any hardships, but responded immediately and enthusiastically to the offer to join the Jewish Legion under British command. Alexander Eig joined the ranks of the 40th Battalion of the Royal Fusiliers (infantry) – a unit that became a true forge of national personnel for the future Jewish state. The fate of this battalion turned out to be special: when the wave of demobilization "swallowed" two other Jewish battalions, it was the 40th that had the honor of proudly raising the flag of the "1st Judean" in December 1919.

Under the leadership of successive commanders – first Colonel Samuel, then Scott – the battalion grew stronger and gained experience. But the true transformation began with the arrival of the legendary Eliezer Margolin. This charismatic leader burned with the idea of turning the Jewish legionnaires into a prototype of the future army of Eretz Israel, instilling in each soldier not only military skills but also the dream of a free Jewish land.

In the Jewish Legion, Alexander Eig took the position of librarian. Other volunteers, marching through the streets of Tel Aviv with armbands, often laughed at him. Behind his back, they whispered: "idler," "vegetarian," "Poale Zionist." But Eig paid no attention to the gossip. He was engaged in a very important task – creating the legion's library.

Eig loved books and order. In a short time, he managed to organize an exemplary library. He was often seen in the camp with a rifle on his shoulder and books in his hands. He went from unit to unit, from tent to tent, distributing literature. This work helped maintain the soldiers' morale in the hot sands of Egypt and during long stays in Palestine.

After the end of the war and the disbanding of the Jewish Legion, Eig continued to work as a librarian in the newly created Histadrut library. Initially, it was in disarray, as he collected books for the library from all over the country, but Eig energetically set to work, bringing order and expanding the library.

These were the days of the Third Aliyah. The library followed the workers' camps, supplying them with books. Eig, despite his poor health, became a "wandering librarian," visiting branches to connect with local librarians and readers. During these trips, Eig also studied the country's flora, collecting plants from everywhere. He brought home not only books but also dried plants, which he then studied together with his fellow enthusiast – Eliezer Faktori. This laid the foundation for his large botanical collection.

The Histadrut building in those years was located on top of a sandy hill, somewhat distant from Allenby Street. Its central library occupied one of the rooms. One morning, Yehuda Sharett, brother of Moshe Sharett and Alexander Eig's colleague, came to work and opened the door of the library room, and was deeply shocked by what he saw. Among the high stacks of books, boxes piled on top of each other, and packets of special paper used for drying field plants, he found Eig. He was lying dressed on a bare bench. Eig looked very ill: sunken cheeks, deeply sunken eyes, an emaciated yellowish face.

Sharett, seriously frightened by Eig's appearance, wanted to immediately call a doctor and provide assistance. However, Eig, gathering his last strength, with a smile on his exhausted face, began to discuss the work plan for the coming day, demonstrating amazing fortitude and dedication to his work.

Eig, completely immersed in his research, paid no attention to everyday difficulties. Collecting plant specimens in the sands of Tel Aviv and on the hills of Jerusalem, he thought only of his work. Together with Eliezer Faktori, they rented a tiny room on Bugrashov Street. The cramped space was filled with books and stacks of paper interlayering plants prepared for drying. The Tel Aviv doctor who treated Eig and Faktor did not hide his concern. In conversations with acquaintances, he lamented: "These people take absolutely no care of themselves. They live in a dark apartment, eat poorly, and their lengthy botanical excursions are extremely exhausting for them."

But Eig's work finally received recognition. In 1925, Professor Otto Warburg, a botanist and active participant in the Zionist movement, as if opening a new chapter in the young scientist's life, invited him to the position of assistant in the Department of Applied Botany he had created at the Experimental Agricultural Station. The professor also offered Eig to join the staff of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem.