In the Eye of the Storm

Eve Harow, Efrat/Neve Dekalim

Thursday, August 4, 2005:

Nili parted reluctantly from her new friend, Meshi, earlier today. I had taken my soon-to-be 9 year old to the women's swim hours at the area pool where she promptly befriended the adorable brown-eyed butterball. As it turns out, and I have much experience with bizarre coincidences such as this, I know her father, Victor. In the course of my work with One Israel Fund, we bring people to visit Jewish communities in Judea, Samaria and Gaza to whom they donate playgrounds, security equipment and other humanitarian needs. We were actually here with a bus last week, possibly the last tourists to get in, and Victor, as chef of a local catering hall, prepared a 3 course meal for us on almost no notice since we weren't sure till the last minute if our 'protexia' would get us through the checkpoints. They have a home in Sderot where they go for weekends, and where they may live permanently if, as Meshi said, "heaven forbid, the worst happens", but she loves her life here. The girls made plans to meet tomorrow and practice diving. That's the last day the pool is open since the 9 days begin on Shabbat. (They commemorate the last days of the Holy Temples before they were destroyed and culminate in the fast day of the 9th of Av, when a host of calamities have befallen the Jewish people through the ages. Mourning practices are in place for that week, no celebrations, shaving, swimming etc.) Since the planned expulsion is set to begin the next day the lifeguard was unable to tell me if they will ever reopen.

Some stores here are having end of the season sales; one wonders if they will be restocking. Not so the supermarket where the shelves are perpetually half empty as they struggle to keep pace with the many shoppers. The synagogues are full as well, and a circus entertained a standing room only crowd of toddlers this morning in the wedding hall of Neve Dekalim. The talk at the local beauty parlor is of what the rabbis will say next week about whether to pack or not to pack. Very few people are leaving; despite the press reports and tremendous psychological pressure I saw only one moving van today. There is a trend to prepare, just in case, but be here till the End or the much hoped for Miracle.

Information that the touted Nitzan 'caravillas' are small and headed to be slums have not made anyone's choices easier. The first families from Northern Gaza who moved there were greeted by reports that the Firefighter's Association has not approved the site. This report, which was curiously dropped after one airing, came on the very same day that a caravan fire in the south killed 2 tots. That, juxtaposed with other signs of appalling lack of preparedness by Sharon's crew, have deepened the sense that no one really cares all that much about their future, about the tremendous trauma that is about to befall what many have realized are the salt of the earth of Israeli society. People whose parents were thrown out of Arab countries 50 years ago and worked hard to instill Zionism and love of the Jewish nation into their children, who in turn came to empty sand dunes and turned them into hothouses and a virtual paradise, will start over. And in return their hard won successes will be turned over to a Palestinian Authority intent upon turning this place into the terror capital of the world. "Have you murdered and also inherited?" asked the Bible. Couldn't have said it better myself.

So the debate seems to be mainly whether to do nothing at all or pack valuables so that they won't go 'missing' should the plan be implemented and the army pack up homes as a result. The vast majority are staying put, hosting new arrivals, and living in as great a sense of absolute uncertainty as can be imagined. 5 years of enemy fire, 6000 assorted mortar and missile attacks, countless shootings and many terrorism victims did not break them. It's the thought of their boys, which is how Israelis think of our army- because that's exactly who they are-coming to take them out of their homes that has proven to be almost too much.

Being here actually makes one wonder why anyone pays attention to news reports at all, about anything. I heard last week how livid Putin was at ABC's interview of the Chechyan terrorist that was responsible for the Breslan massacre and how he berated the White House for allowing it. The US government's cool response, that in a free country the press doesn't need official permission to interview whom they want, made me realize that Israel today resembles Russia more than the West in that regard. The disgust that I feel towards most of the ostensible vanguard of our free speech, democracy and civil rights, is too great for this missive; in their lust to see the demolition of the hated settlement movement they have completely betrayed their own values. Sharon, riding out many corruption charges, could be accused now of virtually anything and they will still protect him. His head of the 'disengagement' (what a successful 'spin' job, to rename ethnic cleansing as such), Eval Giladi, is due to make millions from the planned casino set to open in Elei Sinai, which he is responsible for evacuating. (That's the one synagogue that apparently won't be demolished, the better to serve Jewish gamblers). No one seems perturbed by this and other blatant conflicts of interests, nor in the blithe ignoring of the government's own promise that no assets will be handed to terror organizations. Unless of course Hamas really just uses funds for social welfare. This summer has brought so much hypocrisy out into the open, when the dust - or rather sand- settles, we will have to remake not a little of our society. And it won't be easy.


I have been in and out of here for months and am now here with the younger of my 7 children for the duration. It will either be till D-day or the whopping gala that will be held if this horrendous 'Make Gaza Judenrein' idea falls by the wayside. We are sharing a tiny home with Marilyn and 4 of her kids, good friends and neighbors from Efrat. (In keeping with it's size, it also has a great 'skinny mirror' of which I've grown quite fond). My kids are okay with this ideological vacation, honing their biking skills on the flat Neve Dekalim roads as opposed to those near our home in the Judean Hills. They were nervous about coming after hearing news reports that made this sound like a war zone, and though the idyll of a beach week is definitely shattered by the occasional boom of a mortar, they are surprised by the tranquility. It's very hot, we have no airconditioning, one bathroom for 9 people and are sleeping on the floor, but they understand why we need to be here, to try and prevent the unthinkable but also to be a part of whatever happens. (One day, if this goes through, we may be fighting for our own homes in Gush Etzion in the next stage, or the one after that.) They are being raised with the knowledge that if you are not part of the solution you are part of the problem, and that there's no place for apathy in the Jewish world. Our long, illustrious and too often tragic history has made that quite clear. We are home, finally, after 2000 years, but the diaspora mentality of appeasing our enemies has yet to dissipate. Perhaps mine is still the generation of the desert, doomed to die before we see the 'Promised Land' as it should be, punished for not appreciating the need to be a 'light unto the nations' in the global fight against terror, too. Retreating under fire is not that way, and no matter how it's couched that is what we are doing and too many people here and abroad will pay for this massive mistake. Their generation, however, will do fine. The youth has been magnificent, lead the struggle, shown such devotion and love for this country and our people. It's been the gift of this long, hot summer, to see them, so strong in their certainty that everything will be alright as they color the country orange.


Yesterday I dropped in on long time Gush Katifers, Moshe and Rachel Saperstein, he a war hero, she a prolific writer and English teacher. He penned the line that "nothing can replace the glory of having lived in Gush Katif" a few months ago, after a particularly horrific terror act against the community that was met by a renewal of faith and hope by the local youth. After kindly allowing me some computer time they invited me back to an evening lesson on the Kuzari, given by their rabbinic house guest. The lesson turned into a lively discussion on prophecy and the lack of its presence in today's world. (Not that we would pay attention even there was, or is). The afternoon I had spent at the beach with assorted kids and friends, muching on locally grown delicious seedless red grapes, collecting shells and playing in the water. There was a small 'rumble' as some boys realized that the soldiers now esconced in the nearby Palm Beach Hotel were using their binoculars to check out their girls, followed by the rumor that these same soldiers were on their way to destroy the tent city at nearby Shirat HaYam. The latter proved groundless, the former was naturally more of interest to the younger set. Such is the strangeness of the days here.

As we left at 7:30 my 10 year old son, Matanya, pointed to the magnificent sunset over the Mediterranean Sea. "Look, Ema, even the sun is orange". And so it was.

And even though it was setting, it will be there tomorrow, and every day forevermore. As please G-d, will the Jewish people one day be safely and proudly everywhere in our precious Land.

Eve Harow
Neve Dekalim, Gush Katif, Israel