First of all, let me preface this post by saying that I am not, by any means, a brave person. I'm a wimp. Pure and simple. I watched the movie The Ring a few months ago, and had to sleep with the lights on for 2 weeks! (And bless Samantha for not making fun of me...too badly). Gaza is not exactly for the faint of heart, and it certainly isn't for people like me. I just wanted to put a disclaimer that if seems like I'm overdramatizing my account, I probably am. I was just scared.
Ever since I came back from my trip to the West Bank, and talked with Palestinians, including the ones living in refugee camps, I've wanted to spend time with the other side--the Jewish settlers who are causing so much trouble. The "settlers" live in the areas that Israel conquered in the Six Day War in 1967, including the West Bank (Judea and Samaria) and Gaza. Many people choose to live there because of the great government bonuses, like tax-free living, which means that they can get a bigger house for less money. But the people in Gaza are living there for purely ideological reasons. They believe that the Jews deserve all of the land of Israel, and so put up with substandard housing and constant terrorist attacks. All for their ideals. The Israeli government is no longer putting up with it, though. They have recently voted to disengage from Gaza, which includes evacuating all the settlements within a period of 6 months. I realized that if I didn't go now, I might never have the chance, so I decided to go, despite the risks.
In order to learn more about these people and the conditions in which they live, I spent Shabbat in the settlement of Kfar Drom in the Gush Katif bloc in the middle of the Gaza strip. I came from Jerusalem with Esther, this Brazilian lady who was interested in the agriculture of the place. Kfar Drom is known throughout the world to produce "kosher" lettuce, which is absolutely free of bugs.
After going to synagogue, where I spent a lot of the time looking at the guns on the floor, and a lovely dinner, we went back to our caravan and promptly fell asleep. It was a tiring day. But I was woken up at 2 am to the sound of a loud "boom". I sat up in bed, as did Esther, and we weren't sure at first what had happened. And then we started to hear the gun fire. Esther got down on the floor, but I couldn't move. I was too paralyzed with fear. Another loud explosion followed, this time really close by, and Esther got out her siddur (prayer book) and started to say Tihilim. After yet another explosion, I scrambled down to join her. Together we sat on the floor, by the washroom light, praying. I had started to shake, either from the cold of the open window, or the fear, or both. The gun fire intensified, and we could hear regular rifles as well as machine guns. All this was so close by. We heard a knock on the door, and at first we didn't want to answer it, but it was the lady who we were staying with. She invited us to come into her caravan, were they have a "safe room". That is where the children sleep. Cute. Apparently after each bomb attack, settlers are told to spend 20 minutes in the safe room in case more are to come. From her, we learned that the gunfire was almost only Israeli fire, which made us feel a little better. But we were still badly shaken. After the 20 minutes we returned to our caravan, but neither of us could fall asleep for a few hours. And once I did, I was woken up again by more gun fire. It seems constant.
When we finally got up in the morning, we found out what actually happened. The Palestinians in the nearby houses frequently send mortars or missiles over to Kfar Drom. One of the bombs that we heard last night had fallen about 50 metres from where we were sleeping (about the distance of 3 medium sized houses away). It destroyed 4 cars. But thank G-d no one was hurt. Throughout the day, amid periodic gunfire, I had some interesting discussions. Frankly, on the offset, I was biased against the settlements. I could not understand how these people would live there, putting their lives and the lives of their children in danger. Plus, it is expensive for the government. Kfar Drom has more than 100 soldiers stationed there, and in addition to paying their salary, they need expensive defense equipment, like tanks and other armoured vehicles, plus guns and amunition. As well, the government is going to pay to repair and replace the 4 cars that were just destroyed. "Because", as one settler told me, "it's not our fault that the cars were destroyed." Well, actually it is. They choose to live in a war zone, and yet the government is financially supporting them. I don't think that it's very fair.
Forget about the politics behind the situation. Forget about the Palestinians. (To be honest, I could never understand why the Arabs make such a big fuss over such a small area of land. It's not like having it back would improve their miserable lives. And yet they still fire bombs at the settlements...) But regardless, forgetting about them, I still cannot understand why these Jews are living there. They are putting their children's lives at risk! I spent a lot of the weekend cooing over the most beautiful 8 month old boy called Shimon. As adorable as he is, I find it sad just thinking about him now. He is growing up accustomed to the sounds of bombs, gun fire, tanks. He is getting desensitized by all the suffering around him. And frankly, I don't find that fair of his parents to do that to him.
I have never been as scared in my life during last weekend. I literally thought that I might die. And yet, the children grow up thinking that this is normal. It's not. After another night in the caravan (which I found out later had a bomb fall on it a few years ago, although it did not detonate), I left Kfar Drom. I don't think that I'll ever go back. And although I had to deal with admonitions from my mother and friends, I'm glad that I went. I learned a lot. And I have come to a conclusion: Israeli parents, get the hell out of Gaza. If not just for yourselves, then for the soldiers, for the country, and for your children.
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