After an eight-year unofficial war against Southern Israel, Hamas has now been faced with Israel making it official. For years Sderot activists like myself have warned the country that the Kassams are not an isolated problem of Sderot, and if not dealt with will spread to the rest of the country. In the past month this has come true in the form of rockets on Ashkelon, Ofakim, Beer Sheba, Yavne, Netivot, Ashdod and other cities. As is well known, Israel has been bombing Hamas institutions all over Gaza for the past month. Hundreds have been killed, among them civilians. Exactly how many civilians have been killed is impossible to know. The people reporting the casualties from Gaza are the same people that claim no more than ten thousand Jews were killed in the Holocaust; obviously statistics are not exactly their strong point. Hamas wants as many casualties as possible in order to gain international sympathy. They purposely do not build shelters for civilians and entrench themselves in hospitals and schools to maximize innocent lives lost. After eight years of Kassams, negotiations and “ceasefires”, Israel is left with no choice but to attack the Strip forcefully, whatever the cost may be. Israel has done her utmost to minimize the civilian casualties in Gaza, with surgical strikes on Hamas buildings and even dropping leaflets in Arabic warning the civilians to leave the area, despite the danger that doing so caused to her own soldiers on the ground.
International anti-Semitism has reared its ugly head once again in the wake of the war in Gaza. After twelve thousand protesters demonstrated against the Israeli campaign in Hyde Park, England, an angry mob left the protest in search of a pogrom against the Jews. In Golders Green, a Jewish dominated neighborhood in London, they burst into busy restaurants and stores and assaulted everyone inside. They took the Ahava store, an Israeli chain, hostage along with its workers. Outside the store they hung a sign saying “Condemn the Israeli Army as War Criminals” and chained themselves to the door, preventing police from getting in to save the terrified hostages. In Spain, an Israeli flag with a swastika instead of a Star of David was burned before thousands of jeering protestors. Two Israeli workers were stabbed in a mall in Italy. Countries varying from small west African states to France to Australia have all come out against Israel. Jewish self-hatred made its expected appearance in the form of washed up actress Roseanne Barr declaring the Jewish Homeland a “Nazi state”. This campaign in Gaza has forcefully reminded Jews around the world that which they have tried to forget: That no matter how detached and unassociated a Jew anywhere in the world may be towards Israel, he will always be part of the Jewish state. He will be held personally responsible for Israel’s actions in the eyes of the violent anti-Semite.
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For the last month, the media has swooped down on Sderot like a flock of vultures on a carcass, as if it were making up for its eight years of absence with a vengeance. Never leaving a ten-foot radius from a shelter, they stand opposite the camera and claim, “I’m standing here in Sderot, in the line of Kassam fire from the Gaza strip. The extent of their interaction with the the town’s residents is stopping random passersby for a few questions. They don’t listen to the heartbreaking stories of the traumatized families. They don’t cry when one of our soldiers dies. They don’t cry for the five-year-old boy who wets the bed nightly, living in fear after being injured by a Kassam. I, on the other hand, spent ten days in Sderot since the campaign began. I met scores of residents, sat with them in their homes listening to their stories, and my heart felt the fear and burden of the typical Sderot resident. I would like to introduce you to a few people whose stories truly touched me and recreate some scenes of life in the shadow of terror.
On Shabbat day, December 27, the Israeli Aif Force began bombarding Hamas strongholds in Gaza. Within twenty-four hours the call went out for volunteers to go down and help bear the burden of the people of Sderot, located within arm’s reach of the war. At the “pump up” speech in Jerusalem before the volunteers came down to Sderot, one sentence that really stuck with me was “The army has called up 6,500 reserve soldiers. We hope to enlist at least that many, if not more volunteers to help the residents of the South.” How amazing are the Jewish people that instead of running away from a border under fire, we run towards it to help those in dire need.
I was on the first bus down, consisting of about twenty-five volunteers. Upon my arrival Sunday night I could hear the helicopters and feel the explosions in Gaza. The first night I was in Sderot was the last night of Chanukah. As I lit the Menorah in the bomb shelter I slept in, I thought of the symbolism of the moment. Now as then, an enemy is determined to destroy us. The Greeks wanted our soul, but Hamas wants our body too. Yet, even here in these dark times, we still have enough hope left to light the Menorah, just like the Maccabees. With the shelter occasionally shaking from an explosion, we sang and danced together, Secular and Observant Jews together as one, united to help our fellow Jews in need.
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I would like to introduce you to Mazal, an elderly Russian woman. After a Kassam exploded near her house, she has no running water. With no car and an ill body, all of her water must come from the supermarket. My assignment was to get a volunteer to drive her and I to the supermarket to buy sixty bottles of water, plus her food for the next month. When we got to the supermarket, the only way she was able to obtain money to buy groceries was by writing a check against her March pension. In December. As she shopped their was suddenly a deafening shriek above the supermarket. Certain it was a Kassam, I rushed Mazal into the store and away from the entrance, and crouched down. “This is it,” I thought to myself, “I am going to die now.” When the noise continued for several seconds, I realized that it was not a Kassam but rather an Israeli fighter jet, flying five hundred feet above the city. From then on I knew how to identify the sound of a jet instantly.
There was a time when any explosion, or even any loud noise, in Sderot meant a Kassam had struck. Today, after eight years of suffering, Israeli tanks, helicopters, jets, and artillery in Gaza can be heard in Sderot. It is commonplace now for an entire room of people to jump at the sound of a blast, only to have one “expert” say reassuringly, Don’t worry. That was one of Ours.”
I would like to Ana, also an elderly Russian immgrant. A widow with no family, Ana lives alone in a two-room tenement, in the poorest neighborhood of Sderot. As if her life was not difficult enough as is, a Kassam exploded in her yard, sending shrapnel and glass shards all over her living room and kitchen. Ten minutes later, a clean-up crew from the volunteer organization Lev Echad, myself included, showed up at her door with brooms, buckets, tape and plastic sheeting. My heart broke as I saw the poor woman; she looked like she was about to have a heart attack, crying in shock and frustration. Our attempts to comfort her were in vain, for Ana speaks only Russian and none of us knew the language. I quickly called a Russian speaking friend and had her explain to Ana what a bunch of teenagers in matching T-shirts were doing in her apartment, and she calmed down. After hours of moving furniture and countless knick knacks, sweeping up glass and taping windows shut, we managed to return a sense of normalcy to Ana’s life. A Russian speaking volunteer came and helped ease Ana’s stress. After seeing the miraculous turnaround that a few teenagers brought about with sweat and love, Ana became a new person. Turning into a typical Jewish grandmother, she began smiling and showering us with praise, handing out kisses and chocolate. As I watched this modern day miracle unfold, seeing Ana shift from hysteria to happiness, I suddenly remembered that it was the last day of Hannukah. A strong longing to be with my own grandparents enveloped me after kissing Ana a happy Hannukah and goodbye. On Hannukah we bless G-d “Who performed miracles for our fathers, in those days at this time. This year we went to war against our enemies ”in these days at this time”, on the sixth night of Hannukah.
I doubt I ever had a more chilling experience than when I saw a house in Sderot that a half hour earlier had been covered in a pool of blood. Though volunteers had cleaned up the blood already, the destruction was everywhere. The next door neighbors are an elderly Tunisian couple. The trauma of the explosion caused them to move into a shelter with the female Lev Echad volunteers. Eli and “Daisy” (no one knows her real name) made Aliyah to Israel from Tunisia in 1954. Despite the fact that they are too afraid to sleep in their own home, they warmly welcomed in a young man tracing their footsteps, over fifty years later. Eli and “Daisy” are the typical funny elderly couple. Eli’s hearing is almost non-existent (he can’t put in his hearing aids for fear than a “Code Red” alarm will deafen him), but ”Daisy” is as sharp as ever, with a quick tongue. The hours I spent joking with Eli reminded me of my own paternal grandfather, whose passing this past summer has not sunk in at all. Their love and praise truly warmed my heart in an aching time.
To be continued…
With Love from the Holy Land,
Elisha
P.S. Lev Echad is desperate for money to continue funding its assistance in this critical time. To make a donation go to http://lev1.org.il/English/Donation.html
