Last night, we had a 2.5 hour lecture that introduced us to the complexities and intricacies of Israel's dealings with Gaza. This lecture was in preparation for today's 13-hour trip (including transportation) to Sderot and other communities situated near the Gazan border. Our first speaker was from an organization called Sderot Media, whose aim is to let the voices of Sderot's people be heard, not only in Israel, but throughout the world.When I was here during the Pillar of Defense in November, the sirens, rockets, Iron Dome was like living in a surreal game. When we hear the sirens in Tel Aviv, we have 90 seconds to reach our shelters; in Sderot, they have 15 seconds.
Fifteen seconds!
Now, of course, whenever people hear this, they ask, "If the situation is so bad, why don't people just move?" And the answer is multi-fold: first of all, few of these people even have the possibility to move because of their socioeconomic situation; secondly, this is where they were born/grew up and their families are here; thirdly, they argue "If we leave Sderot, where is there to go to? Now there are rockets that could reach most of Israel, so where would we go?"
Last November, I was in Ulpan when one of the sirens went off in Tel Aviv. We had just been briefed on what to do: sit down by the interior wall and cover our heads. Now, our entire Ulpan building is filled with windows (Tel Aviv buildings don't have mandatory protected rooms as they do in Sderot) so I still didn't feel particularly safe. When the siren went off, we sat by the wall, heard the explosion (thank you, Iron Dome), took a break to call people to let them know that we were alright, etc., and then continued with our class. After class, I thought that walking home would be better than taking a bus because I didn't know where shelters were and figured that I could lay down in an alleyway if another siren went off. Soon I realized that I was searching for potential shelters every 10 seconds and after about 4 minutes of this, I decided to take the bus so that I would get home quicker and be closer to our safe area. This Monday, we had siren tests where we had to run to our protected area. I didn't leave my building before the siren because I didn't want to be caught outside, even though it was just a drill. But even though it was only a drill, my adrenaline was surging as I booked it to our protected hallway. Today being in Sderot, watching video footage of the aftermath of rockets, hearing people's stories, and seeing actual rocket remnants brought back that panicky feeling. Even though our speakers were engaging, I couldn't stop myself from scanning for bomb shelters and wondering how quickly our group could move into a room, or if all of us would even fit.
So there we were in Sderot, less than a mile from the Gazan border, and every lecture began with "If there is a Code Red, we will go to [insert place]," yet the speakers still believed that peace was possible. One of our speakers had lived on a kibbutz in the Northern Sinai Peninsula until the Egypt-Israel peace treaty. They rebuilt their community as close as they could to the Gazan border; in her words "as close to the recognized Israeli borders as possible." Another woman that we met had lived in Gush Katif, a settlement that was unexpectedly evacuated and demolished during Israel's disengagement from the Gazan strip. Both women are still in contact with Palestinian friends and neighbors from that time. And both women, even though they have suffered great losses and heartache, fervently believe that peace is the answer. We also met with students from the Sderot high school: the kids and their teachers that spoke to my group had the same message: "peace is the answer: violence only leads to violence." They also reminded us that there are also
innocent people on the other side of the Gazan border, something that I
think many people forget.
A few of our speakers pointed out that in order for us to "win over" the Gazan people, we need to make them see that a relationship with Israel would be beneficial for them. One girl on our program (who worked as a journalist in Ramala last year) pointed out that one of the reason why people elected Hamas in the first place was because they were building things like schools and hospitals for their people. The Gazans are not brain-washed or Jew-hating people, whatever the media would like us to think; they are innocent people struggling to survive, just like us. They want the same things as we do: a safe home for their families, food and water, and a long and enjoyable life.
Oy. My brain is a balagan tonight, but I wanted to get these thoughts out on "paper" while they were still fresh. I don't think that it is unrealistic to think that peace is possible: I do think that it is unrealistic to think that the government can achieve this on its own. I think people forget that the government is only a representation of the people, not the people themselves. Instead of discussing why peace hasn't worked so far, we need to start doing something that will help it work the next time. And that means speaking with Israelis, Palestinians, Americans, Jews, Non-Jews, penguins....whoever will listen so that the next time the government tries another "attempt at peace," there will already be a foundation between the people and support from the world.
One woman that we met started her own project: a mosaic spelling "Peace Path" along the wall across from the Gazan border. Two of my friends and I bought a small pack of mosaic pieces (she makes the ceramics herself) and pasted them into one of the letters. I felt happy knowing that I had contributed just a tiny bit to filling up those letters and hoped that one day, maybe she'll have to add another sentence because there won't be enough space for more pieces.
Namaste.
