West Bank, Soldiers...

The past two days have been extremely intense. The knowledge that my 64 days in eretz yisrael will soon be ending adds an extra emotional weight and I am quite honestly overwhelmed with thoughts, ideas and questions. One of my only "complaints" about Livnot is that time to talk, write or even process what we see can only happen in place of sleep.

Yesterday morning, we did a community service project with Packages from home. Our Livnot group of 10 joined a group of volunteers from Israel and America. Their group was for hearing impaired Jews, and as the director of the organization told about her project, we watched in awe as one woman translater her speech into ASL and another man translater the signed lanugage into Hebrew Sign Language! Using an assembly line format, we filled 1000 plastic bags with t-shirts, boxers, soaps, toothpaste and candies - all to be dropped off (via helicopter) to IDF soldiers in S Lebanon or Northern Israel. Remarkable, the organization puts together these packages several times a month using supplies and funds from the US.

It was a great experience and in about 2 hours, the job was done. With the afternoon free, five of us set out for Hadassah Hospital to visit wounded soldiers.
Picture this: 5 american woman in their 20s walking around an unfamiliar hospital with bags full of rugelach, magazines and sheshbesh (backgammon) boards for soldiers. All we have is a small piece of paper directing us to find "Ram Shtayim" We ask several people and remarkable, everyone seems to know the guy! WE get to the correct floor ( -1) and ask for his office. Right away, people know where it is, so we walk right in to the military section of the hospital, curious to find out which staff member is our well-known friend, Ram.... only then, we realize that "ram" means unit, and that we had in fact been searching for "Unit 2." Language barriers ahve a way of quickly reminding us to be humble!


At the hospital, we visited 5 soldiers - 4 of whom were under 21, and one who was a reservist who looked to be about 28. Most of the soldiers had visitors - friends, family, or fellow soldiers. All but one of them were not yet able or wanting to talk about the war. Ronen, the last soldier we visited, did not seem too displeased by the sudden appearance of 5 american women in his room. He did, however, express more than alittle embarassment at the presence of his mother, especially when she asked for our email addresses.

Only one guy, ITzi, spoke candidly about his experience. When we walked into his room, he immediately welcomed us into the seating area outside. There, before we could ask any questions, he explained how he had received the gaping hole in his mouth. During a raid in Lebanon, he had been hit with 3 bullets by "friendly" fire. His front teeth were gone, and what was left of his lips was a mix of stitches, open skin and a whole lot of this clear jelly substance. Still, the rest of his face was untouched and he had bright green eyes and the smooth rosy cheeks to prove his youth. The men who had shot him came to visit this weekend and were happy to see he was alive. The injury had been a bloody one, but Itzi had remained conscious. He explained how he immediately reached for the gauze in his pocket and put it to his mouth. With only 3 months left to serve in the tanks unit, he admitted that the proverbial bullet chasing every soldier had found him. In fact, in Itzi's batallion of 33 soldiers, 10 others were wounded in the war. 4 died. In a few weeks, he will return to the army to complete his military service.



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In a poetic follow to yesterday's military theme, we spent today in the West Bank.
Today in every way was testimony to how little about a situation you can tell from afar. Nerwspapers, television, even first hand knowledge - nothing comes close to going somewhere yourself.
When I learned about our schedule, I was nervous and excited about the day. Our leader, Shmuel lives in the West Bank city (or Judean city) or Ephrat. He is a learned and inspiring teacher with a warm and loving family. He has five children under the age of 9 or 10. Both he and hsi wife grew up in north america - Shmuel was an active USYer. Shmuel does not fit the stereotype, the image that I'd held of a "settler." Nor does Ephrat in any way look like a "settlement" As we drove the 20 minutes from Jersualem, we passed the security fence *(still unfinished) and drove through two tunnels that head toward Ephrat (near Ramallah.) New checkpoints are being built to look like full-on border crossings. I noticed graffiti inside one of the tunnels that said "apartheid wall." ANd it was there that any sign of the conflict sort of ceased.

Efrat sits on 3 hills outside of Ramallah. It is a well-off town, msotly religious,
and largely English speaking. Many enormous homes with 3 aqnd 4 stories line the cliffs. Land here is cheap. Rent on a 2 or 3 story home can be less than 500 american! Any takers? The homes are modern, the schools some of the ebst in the country - and the community is close knit and supportive. The price? Well, that's all perspective, although Shmuel did tell us that about 50% of the population carries a gun for protection and that one had once been used successfully to thwart a suicide bomber in the shopping plaza. Scary sounding, I know, but when you walk through the stone streets and see the sun reflecting off the Jerusalem stone homes, it feels more like Pleasantville than a war zone.

From there, we headed to the old Kings Highway, a route that has traversed this part of the world for thousands of years. Once an ancient trade route between the fertile crescence and Egypt ( I think ) we read about some of the landmarks in the Torah and saw the ancient Mikva. It is from thsi point that Jerusalem is first visible for a hiker heading north from the desert. Today, it is a dusty dirt path that traverses grape vines (yuum!) and fig trees - and offers a vivid view of the Jewish and Arab settlements that speckle the various hills. As a Palestinian truck rolled by, we asked the driver to come out andt alk to us. He told us about his village and invited us all to hsi home. When asked about his life, he told us he was tired of war. And that yes, he thinks soon tehre will be another war. From there, we headed to a kibbutz in the Etzion Block, made famous by the battle there taht took place on the eve of the founding of Israel. Settled first in the 1920s and again in 1943, the kibbutz's location was strategically chosen to defend Jerusalem. In may 1948, the male population died defending the area. The women and children stayed in a bunker, but all except 4 were killed by a hand grenade launched into their shelter. In '67, these children returned to rebuild their parents' settlement.

So what is a settlment? We even went to an "illegal outpost" a collection of homes that Israel clearly supplies with electricity, water etc... The orthodox families of 9 and 10 children hardly seem to pose a threat. There is a vast amount of vacant land and plenty of room for people - arab or jewish - to expand their municipalities. The Palestinians get there water and electricity outsourced from Israeli companies. Thus, the biggest problems for the Palestians is the lack of work ( I am guessing ehre) and the removal of JEws from the area would take away the jobs in construction.

For now, I am too confused to state where I stand on the issue. But I do know taht it is far more complex than any newspaper can convey. What's more, after last year's disengagement threatened to divide the country and now it seems that all was for naught, it's harder to argue with the people living in the territories. True, there are other places to live, and safer ones at that, but in apart of the world that is fueled by passion and ideology, is it so hard to understand that people want to live in the land (judea) for which they are named? Is it any more wrong or right than living in Jerusalem? Or in other former Palestinian villages? I dont know....

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On a lighter note..............

We went for a class at the small home of a rabbi and his 9 children. HIs wife walks in the room and he says, "meet me first wife, Donna." She asks him if he has heard from 2 of their kids. When he doesnt respond, she asks again. He hasn't heard from them, but seems unconcerned,l but finally answers: "Im sure they're fine! What could go wrong? It's only the west bank."



Blast from the past - Being back in this Jewish world has meant some unexpected and frequent encounters from my USY days. Today, a guy from Ramah arrived. We had a very interesting discussion with him about the vacuum of Jewish life that exists between college and family synagogue membership. (aka: Jews in their 20s/30s) TOmorrow, we're going to Alexander Muss and my former teacher will be leading our tour. The jewish world feels very small - especially the american, zionist Jewish world,but when I think about Kibbutz, or the diversity of my group here, I remember that the world (even the Jewish world) still consists LARGELY of people I have yet to me. I am also more confident that Teva is the perfect place for me to be spending the next 4 months.


Will be in NYC this weekend. . . Can't believe I almost went to Greece!