Holocaust Remembrance Day: The tragedy of silence
Yesterday, Israel marked Holocaust Remembrance Day. Standing on a street in Sderot, I listened quietly to the siren sound, remembering the tragedy of 6 million Jews killed in Nazi Europe, my great grandparents, uncles and aunts from Poland among them. I've become used to sirens sounding in Sderot during my past two years here-the click of the intercom, followed by a female voice that calmly repeats Tzeva Adom, Tzeva Adom, or Color Red. The scenes that unfold usually entail people dashing into shelters-racing for 15 seconds that may mean the difference between life and death. Averaging one grad per hour
There we were, a sunny Monday morning, averaging maybe one grad per hour from about 10:30 am when once again, the siren wailed. We ran downstairs under a hallway in my mother-in-law's house. My neice and one of my sons were with her and just as we got to the hall, this enormous "BOOM!" shook the house. "It's here!" my son and husband yelled together. "Nobody move!" We waited for less than a minute (although you have to wait 5 but we couldn't) and ran outside, noticing that the window over the kitchen sink had a huge hole in it and what was left was all cracked. Smoke was coming from the houses across the street and at first, we thought it was there. Then we thought it had landed around our friends' house behind those houses and knowing Miki was alone and on the hysterical side, ran over to her house. The impact of Palestinian rocket terror on Israeli children
There have been many questions bouncing around in the media this week. Why is Israel at war? Why are there so many Hamas men dead? Why are Hamas firing rockets at Israel? A war of resistance, some say. Israel is holding a siege against Gaza. Palestinians are starving and suffering. And who is to blame? Israel of course. At least that is the conclusion that emerges within the headlines of AP and Reuters news reports, European news media, and countless Internet blogs on the current fighting. For those who seek objective answers to those questions, the unfolding tragedy of Sderot and the western Negev must be taken into account. No plans to leave Ashkelon
The writer came to Ashkelon from Brooklyn, NY in 1976 and teaches at Achva Academic College (students who are studying to be English teachers) and at Ashkelon College. She also freelances for the Metro section of The Jerusalem Post. She and her former paratrooper husband have three children; one who lives out of range of grads and one who lives in Ashkelon but is staying with friends in Tel Aviv. He's in his 3rd year at Sapir College in Sderot so is really getting a double whammy. Their daughter lives here in Ashkelon and works in Kiryat Malachi. December 31st. Wednesday, 11:05 It was a rather quiet night in Ashkelon but not a quiet morning. I was much calmer than the night before, maybe because my son gave me a physics lesson and I understand the projectory of one of these missiles. But then maybe not. The important thing is that I'm calmer, at least for now. We live across the street from the sea and about 3 minutes before Gaza air space. The rainy morning skies are filled with air traffic, something we haven't seen from this vantage point. Sometimes, the wind sounds like the beginning of a siren and we jump. We hear "booms" from Navy ships and sometimes don't know if it's a missile or one of ours shooting at them. This too is a bit scary. Psychological trauma increasing among Sderot residents
"Rockets scare me," says Niv Chen, an 8-year old elementary school student who goes to school in Sderot. As Niv gets into the car, on his way to school, he asks his older brother, Eliran, to lower the car windows, so that he can hear the Tzeva Adom. The Tzeva Adom, or Red Color alert is the siren that warns Sderot residents of impending Palestinian rockets and allows residents 15 seconds to escape to shelter. Niv and countless other children in Sderot have been living with Palestinian rocket fire for almost 8 years. Many have trouble concentrating in school and suffer from anxiety attacks. Skewed perceptions
Last Sunday, several South African diplomats and a political science professor from an American university came to visit Sderot. It was a typical tour through Sderot with rather atypical reactions from the visitors. Usually, foreign visitors express shock and sympathy towards the victims of rocket terror. I was then, more than surprised when the visitors asked a Sderot grandmother whose home was recently wrecked by a Kassam rocket, the following questions. "Do you feel for the Palestinian grandmother who is in the same condition as you?" "What would you say to the women in Gaza who are also suffering?" Sderot in spades - a city of hearts
I spent the day in Sderot recently -- a city of 25,000 very frightened people. Many throughout Israel, and even abroad, are doing whatever they can to support this beleaguered city, and I had the opportunity to escort a family from New Jersey who came to Sderot to deliver stuffed animals to young children in pre-schools in the city. I had been in Sderot quite a few times in the past year, and while I was able to sympathize with the people there -- and even admire them greatly -- I was never able to identify with the fear. Yesterday, that all changed. Our first stop was the home of Nati and Nana Engel. Nati suffered critical injury in a Kassam attack in June 2006. As his recovery has progressed, his wife Nana has become OneFamily's fulltime volunteer coordinator in Sderot. She knows everyone in town, has personal experience in what each victim's family must contend with, and is easily one of the most resourceful and matter-of-fact people I have ever met. As we came into her cozy and well-kept home -- 50 meters from where a rocket landed just three weeks ago -- she told us that there had been two rockets already that morning, and that one of them had hit the house of a young couple and their 7-month old daughter. They didn't know if anyone had been hurt. |
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