SOLIDARITY VISIT TO SDEROT

SOLIDARITY VISIT TO SDEROT

By Gil Troy

On Sunday, July 8, Rabbi Reuben Poupko of Montreal and I made a solidarity trip to Sderot, just 800 meters from Gaza, to try to reassure at least some of the citizens of Sderot that they were not alone, that people in North America, and especially in Montreal (where we both live) cared about them and their predicament. We just showed up – Israeli style, with no appointment or forewarning – at the Hesder Yeshiva of Sderot. (Hesder Yeshivas combine learning Torah and service in the army). We were greeted – Israeli style, warmly and generously – by the Rosh Yeshiva, Rabbi Dovid Fendel, who dropped what he was doing, took us around Sderot, then treated us to a lovely breakfast.

In our trip around Sderot, Rabbi Fendel first showed us the damage some Kassam Rockets had done on the streets. The rocket had torn a series of ruts into the concrete – which looked like a Rohrschach test or one of my 4-year-old’s paintings. In addition, some shrapnel had pierced through the metal railings between the street and the sidewalk. The fact that all this occurred in front of a school was unnerving. Still, it basically perpetuated the media stereotype – and our own impressions going into Sderot -- of these Kassams as “crude,” “primitive” and rather harmless.

The next stop was more disturbing – and more revealing. We arrived at the lovely home of Shlomo and Jacqueline Ohayun, a nice-sized, open, airy house with a good-sized yard. Just last week the Ohayuns had finished their “sheeputzim,” their renovations, including installing a new, modern kitchen. The Ohayhuns’ warm, friendly living room featured the kinds of things we could find anywhere in North America – an aquarium, a computer work station, pictures of kids, parents, grandparents, and four elaborate jigsaw puzzles, each of which had been glued permanently onto cardboard and framed. In short, it felt very normal, very familiar – except for one problem.

Unfortunately, three and a half hours earlier, one of these supposedly crude, primitive, harmless Kassams had slammed into their home, at 6 AM that morning. Their roof had collapsed, a door on the second floor had blown clear across their yard to their neighbors’ house, many windows had shattered. The floor was covered in brown muck. Debris was scattered throughout the house, especially on three of the beds on which two of the children and Mrs. Ohayun had been sleeping (Mr. Ohayun had already left the house to pray). Fortunately, with the Kassam hitting the back of the house their upstairs storage area absorbed the worst damage, and the bathroom – which was unoccupied – sustained the most damage in the living areas.

Both Rabbi Poupko and I were overwhelmed by the extent of the damage. None of the media reports, which we both follow rather carefully, had prepared us for the impact of one of these “simple” rockets on a family home. Two of the children – who are young adults -- were in the hospital with what everyone hoped were “minor” injuries. But we had already been warned by one of Rabbi Fendel’s students, who told us that a friend of his had sustained “kal” (minor) injuries last month – but remained unconscious.

Shlomo Ohayun was quite confident that his children’s injuries were indeed “light.” When we asked him his thoughts, he had one word “Nes,” a miracle. “I don’t care about the property damage,” he explained, “it’s a miracle that no one was hurt seriously.” Jacqueline Ohayun, whose ears were still ringing, agreed. She said that when she heard the “Red Dawn” warning – which gives maybe 10 seconds’ notice – she prayed, as she always did, as the alarm sounded. “My prayers were answered,” she said with relief. Both my rabbinical guides and I marveled at this family’s faith – and at their lack of anger – with an extraordinary, humble, faith-based appreciation that it could have been much worse.

There was much more anger in the town-square, where frustrated townspeople have set up a protest tent. The organizers are, of course, furious with the Palestinians. At least half a dozen different individuals insisted that the Palestinians responded to last year’s disengagement from Gaza by intensifying their attacks. Each one had a slightly different explanation: the Israeli army’s distance from the launch sites, the loss of contact with intelligence assets, the closer proximity to Sderot, the boost the withdrawal gave to Hamas and other radicals, the influx of new weapons into Gaza. All dismissed our observations that the Kassams had preceded the withdrawal – the increased frequency, accuracy and impact of the attacks post-disengagement risked making the town unlivable, many insisted.

Many also expressed deep anger with the government, and disappointment with the rest of the country. “Tel Aviv has forgotten us,” one man bitterly spat out. The colorful handwritten slogans all over the town square – and peppered throughout the town – told the story as well. “1900 DAYS 1500 KASSAMS,” said one. “THE GOVERNMENT HAS FAILED,” said another. “I HAVE NO SECURITY, I HAVE NO HOME,” read a particularly poignant sign in front of a pup tent and a playpen. More pointedly, one begged, “SHARON WAKE UP … OLMERT IS IN A COMA,” and another sneered, “OLMERT, YOU HAVE KASSAMED US” – kassamta otanu. “AD MATI?” – “UNTIL WHEN?,” for how much longer, another asked plaintively.

One woman at the protest, who did not give her name, tearfully described the stress and the fear from the constant alarms and attacks. “I sent my daughter away for the summer,” she wailed. “What kind of mother sends her daughter away – and is happy about it?” And, she added, “What happens when the school vacation ends, how can I bring my daughter back into this mess?”

The occasional boom, boom, boom from a distance, the drones and helicopter we could glance overhead, reminded us that the Israeli government finally may have recognized that the status quo had become unacceptable. Whatever one thinks about the disengagement, the government’s failure to respond aggressively after the first post-disengagement Kassam attack telegraphed a sense of weakness that exacerbated the current mess. And to those who claim that Israel is imposing “collective punishment” on Gaza, the latest polls show that 60% of Palestinians support the Kassams and over 75%
approved of the Hamas attack which killed two soldiers, resulted in the kidnapping of Gilad Shalit, and led to the current crisis.

Clearly, just how to stop this harassment of Sderot’s citizens is a complicated political, diplomatic, military, and intelligence challenge. But the people of Sderot should not feel so alone. This issue transcends the usual left-right issues. There is no justification for shooting rockets at homes and schools, at city markets and at 17-year-old girls like Ella Abukasis, a teenager killed last year when she shielded her brother from an attack. The fact that many of Sderot’s residents are poor and Sephardic and have nowhere else to go should only increase the national sympathy, regardless of where one stands on the broader question of the conflict. The fact that many in Sderot attribute the worsening of their situation to the disengagement from Gaza should encourage those who hope for future withdrawals to reach out to them, reassure them, and at the very least show that the entire country shares the pain of the few.

Remarkably, life continues in Sderot. Our first impression was of a normal town going about its Sunday morning business, just as my impression in Jerusalem this last week and a half has been of a city that is relaxed, in summer mode, keeping an eye on the headlines, but enjoying the feeling that the conflict is very distant. For the people of Sderot, under two hours away from Jerusalem, the conflict is not at all distant. But the Israeli national commitment to living life fully regardless of what the Palestinians impose remains.

Our host, Rabbi Fendel, put it best. While showing us around his Yeshiva, he told us they had to knock down a beautiful but simple study hall to build a more massive structure with a roof of reinforced concrete. He then took us to an overlook, where you could see Gaza in the distance. With our backs to Gaza, he pointed out a massive area primed for building. “We start construction tomorrow,” he said. “You see, the Palestinians are trying to destroy us. Our response is to stay and build.”

Gil Troy is Professor of History at McGill University and the author of Why I Am A Zionist: Israel Jewish Identity and the Challenges of Today which was just released in an updated edition.

Comment on this article using the "Post Reply" button