War... (This is a dark entry, I apologize - and it really only looks at one issue, one aspect of life here, one side of the coin.)

Every day around 9:30 am, I take a walk to get the paper. Today, as I was erring about, I ran into Leo, a kid (18) who had stopped by kibbutz for the weekend. He turned out to be the same guy who built the porch outside my house. We had a beer at some point and chatted a little. THis morning, as I went to get coffee and the paper, he passed me in full uniform, machine gun over his arm. His commander had called him and ordered him back to base immediately. He told me that he was going to Ramallah, thank god, and that he didn't think he would be sent up north because he hasn't finished training. We hugged and then he walked off. Ramallah...lucky. (this is a city in the west bank that is mostly arab; a week ago, it would hardly have struck me as a lucky place to be stationed.)


In the Ketura bubble, I am completely safe. The security is not a facade, not an illusion. Neither Hammas nor Hezbollah has the technology to fire rockets here, nor can I think of any military advantage to bombing a bunch of baby boomer anglo hippies in the middle of the desert. With that out of the way, (and thank you to my grandparents for worrying about me! :) I want to talk a little about my observations and conversations regarding the war and Israelis in general. Again, blah blah apologizies for sweeping generalizations and all that. . . I am but one set of eyes and ears writing my thoughts at this moment (on which I am very tired, too!)



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Israeli's military philophy makes sense if you understand the whole sabra concept. Native Israelis are often called "sabra" after a fruit that is very hard on the outside and very soft and sweet on the inside.
Israelis are indeed tough people to love and tough to get to know, especially on kibbutz where it seems like the only time an Israeli talks to you, it's becuase he wants something else. In reference to terrorism, Israelis often say, "I am not scared. I just don't think about it. Of course I take busses, of course I eat at crowded bars or cafes." I don't think this is entirely true. This is, however, what Israelis need to say. To admit fear, to back down at all, is defeat. This tough facade is the only reason that Israel still exists. I read an article a day or two ago about the hubris of Israel. Yes, this war does seem a lot like a contest of look how big my guns are, look how badass our troops are. Israel and Israelis strike me as reactionary. Their response is about looking tough, about looking unafraid about never being on the defensive. Having 3 hostages taken in a few weeks makes the country look weak or uninformed. Israel can't have that! That would expose a crack in the tough sabra shell.

So where is the warm mushy inside? Well...Israelis may be more scared than most of them want to admit. The existence of the country is precarious and new. Imagine living somewhere and not knowing if the government, the infrastructure, your home were really going to survive. Without the strong army, Jewish Israelis would have long ago been slaughtered or forced into another exile. I've never heard someone here talk about this possibility, but I think it must be there somewhere - a little tickle in the back of everyone's mind.

What else is soft and mushy? Well... Israelis, especially those who go to the army, are largely pretty lax about religion. Many don't believe in G-d and note the fighting, the death and the division that religion causes. Still, they are culturally and nationally Jewish and I think that Shabbat dinners, holiday traditions and Jewish national songs are more important to them than they realize. Judaism here is easy to overlook, easy to take for granted. I am still amazed that Lag B;'omer is a national holiday - that everyone from the P.M. to the petty criminals here have probably fasted on Yom Kippur or been Bar Mitzbvad. (At the every least, they know what these are)

I spent most a lot of time this weekend talking with two Israelis - both just out of the army, both just out of combat units. I learned a little about what being in the army is like... Your life is not yours - you have several cell phones and need to be ready for anything. Often times, a soldier will (finally!) go home for the weekend after 3, 4 or 5 weeks of duty... but, as they step in the door and sit down for a real meal, they can be called straight back to duty - immediately. It's amazing what an 18, 20, 22 year old guy has seen and done here. My roommate and I both spent long hours talking with two young guys the other night and I was struck by how unfamiliar the conversations were. They seem normal as they're tkaing place, but only with a few hours reflection does it begin to strike me as extra-ordinary that I can sit with a guy 3 years younger than me and while I may have stories about Moroccan train rides, he can tell about his commander dying in his arms, about what it feels like to kill someone, about how scared he is to be called back to reserve duty - and how about that will mess up his travel plans. "Oh well," my friend Guy said to me this morning. "I guess we won't be meeting up in India this time..." resignation. While American buys as 22 (and 30) play video games, guys here talk about difference kinds of machine guns and how they learned to shoot them. Walking down a crowded street, as you pass a soldier, it's not unusual to get tapped in the leg by a gun.

With all the discipline and control from the army, it is no wonder that Israeli men (and women) go wild after the army. It takes no stretching of the imagination to understand why sleeping around, heavy drugs or travelling to third world countries hardly seems risky. The fragility of life is all too real here. The signicance of now isn't take for granted.



Many Israelis are worried now about being called up for reserve duty. Few of them would say that they don't want to go.

So what is the mood here on kibbutz? Three volunteers (age 18) are heading to Greece on their parents' bill. Otherwise, we discuss what;'s going on, but - although it's only about as far away as Boston is to NYC - it seems as distant as it does when I am reading the paper in NY. For the volunteers little has changed - our world still consists of pub nights, the pool, guitar playing and cards. The Israelis seems tense. They are constantly listening to the radio and watching TV. Announcements can be made in codes on the television to signal that certain troops have to report to duty. People are depressed, resigned and mostly just sick of fighting. "It's war." I've heard more than a few people say, and then sigh, and then look down, and then continue with their job. People don;'t seem to think that an end is near. 6 months, maybe, I;'ve heard. "You can forget about going to Tsfat." I've also heard. Tel Aviv, too, feels like it will be the next target. News of attacks comes quickly and spreads quickly - we know within an hour when another bomb hits Haifa. People are calling friends and families up north, bomb shelters are in use and busses south are hard to come by. But here, it just feels like I;'m relaying facts. The only physical evidence here is in the creases on people's foreheads, the blaring radios and the sad, resigned look that comes across faces as I catch a kibbutznik staring off for a moment.