June 8th, 2007 by elie
Volunteering
I’m a bit tired of always saying how good it would be to volunteer ’round these parts. Since I’ve been here, my newspaper has delivered the disengagement, Kassams in Sederot, Katyushas and war in the North, and Kassams in Sederot.
We went down to Sederot today to volunteer with Lev Echad, which is an organization started to help citizens in the situations I just named.
Charged with painting a decrepit bomb shelter, we arrived in the Ben Gurion area of the city, a mixed neighborhood: religious and secular… Mizrachi, Russian and Ethiopian… poor through somewhat-middle class… And then there were the mixed reactions to our work and presence.
First, we needed a place to get dipping water. We crossed the street and searched for a house that seemed ‘alive’. We came to a home with an open door and knocked.
“Mi? Mi sham? Halo?”
“Shalom - anachnu me Lev Echad -”
“Boi, t’kansu!”
“Baanu l’tzboa ha miklat… Rak rotzim ktzat mayim…”
“Betach! V’ mayim l’shtot? Mashehu l’echol?”
She was a short, religious woman and reminded us of home in Katamonim. After loading us up, she watched us leave and was still calling after us. We only hoped she could hear us thanking her.
After much painting, a man passed us by on his way to his home across the street.
“Tzrichim mashehu?”
“Oh, ze b’seder, todah.”
“Nu, mashehu l’shtot? Mayim?”
“Yesh lanu, todah raba…”
“Mashehu? L’echol?”
There was normalcy in his voice, with a thin strip of urgency; he had an air of not usually calling out to strangers.
When we got to painting the back of the shelter, the couple from the house behind us exited, baby in tow and their suitcases stuffed and dragged behind them, in this somber march to wait in their driveway for their weekend escape. They stood straight, staring right at us. I couldn’t help but catch glances of their faces; it was a numb look, like, “It’s nice, but what’s the point?”
For a good five minutes I felt their eyes on my back; eyes long dry, long tearless.
Warm - not just hot - in Sederot
When we finished working, we went back to our initial ’supplier’ to return her cups and juice. She insisted on us using her sink to wash up and then insisted on us staying for another cold drink, and then, of course, to eat something, which turned into a whole meal. In a year and a half of living in Katamonim, where we knew these things happen, we finally got invited to sit and stay in that Mizrachi mother way that you just cannot say no to.
It was a bit awkward because I think she wanted to talk to us more but knew we were immigrants, and maybe felt like we didn’t speak much.
Instead, we listened to her daughter tell her that barely anyone was in school today so they did alternative activities.
When her son-in-law walked in, she said, “Look at you, brave to come down to Sederot,” I could have sworn he replied sarcastically: “Sederot? I’m afraid of Iran.”
Before we left, and thanked her profusely, she said: “See? We in Sederot have warm hearts… It’s not easy here… Remember that. Warm people, warm hearts.”
Important note
I think it’s important for all of us to realize that, yes, volunteering is important, giving whatever you can is important, but the major gap present in these people’s lives can mostly be filled by their own government. The Israeli government has not done enough to protect this area, and I’m tired of watching attention be doled out based on socioeconomic relevance (if it was Ra’anana, would it be the same?).
Israel swept up the Ethiopian Jews, collected the Russian Jews, encourages the Anglo Jews; where is Israel for the Israeli Jews? It’s a theme that just keeps repeating, and the story is already old.
If you are interested in volunteering:
Ruach Tova is an organization helping Lev Echad: info@ruachtova.org.il
Or call Lev Echad reps directly: 08 661 0933 ext. 5 or 054 758 7462/3
Finally, the city feature
Also, if I was from Sederot, I probably don’t want my hometown defined by the Kassams and bomb shelters, but here are some photos I took today. I hope that a more complete “City feature: Sederot” will be available in the nearest future, when the city can go back to thriving from just surviving.
June 7th, 2007 by elie
So, Nefesh b’Nefesh is collecting olim’s top 12 favorite things about Israel, eh? Hmm…
1. Hebrew rap
2. Tzfatit cheese
3. Children of olim
4. The fact that Israel only started mass producing ‘real’ orange juice a few years ago
5. Jerusalem bus system
6. The way in which Israeli guys hit on you (except in clubs)
7. Israeli documentaries
8. Kvish shesh
9. The “I know your Anglo, you know I’m Anglo, but neither of us has opened our mouths yet so we’re just gonna give each other side-glances” stare down
10. The way Israelis talk about chul: wide-eyed
11. The humor/satire sections of Israeli newspapers
12. The fact that they paint security barriers as scenic views
June 5th, 2007 by elie
I was in the mood for local stuff on the sherut back to Jerusalem, which today meant a hit of Hadag Nachash. When I’m feeling bad about Israel, one of the few things that can get me feeling better these days - aside from a seeing a charedi helping a chiloni or vice versa - are the lyrics of their Israel-themed songs.
One song, “Rak po” (only here), has been stuck in my head for a few weeks. They agree with me on a major point:
“But I’m tempted to get away… To cut myself off from this place… To leave it all behind, just for a little while… And to put behind the dilemmas I deal with in the land where I live…”
Then they bring it right back with a few cheeky references (multilingual swearing, credit, big guys with guns,) and a final kick in the ass:
“And if you’re out of the country and you hear about a bombing? Then suddenly this is the only place I miss…”
Anyway, typing out the words in English doesn’t do much. Here’s the full song with translations…
(And I suppose that even Hadag Nachash is allowed to get a shock whenever they realize where they are actually from… Bombings and all…)
June 5th, 2007 by elie
It seems there are those out there who are sure my name is Batsheva.
My landlords call me Batsheva.
My classmate calls me Batsheva.
My second-cousin-once-removed calls me Batsheva.
My first grade teacher called me Batsheva.
I don’t mind; it’s a pretty name, I’d argue prettier than the Eli-version. I’d just like to know whether I should change my teudat zehut, so can we come to a consensus please?
June 3rd, 2007 by elie
With all the news getting worse around here, I find my immediate reactions to reading the paper or hearing a headline getting louder and more exasperated. My sighs are heavier. My eyes roll further back into my head. Somehow, I’ve become even more sarcastic. I’m digesting it all faster and the indigestion gets more and more painful.
Well, there’s someone out there who certainly outdoes me. She’s expressive with her eyes and her sighs are heavier than mine. She’s exposed to the news everyday, and she’s even responsible for delivering it. Who is she?
She’s Yonit Levi, the evening news anchor for Arutz 2, Israeli channel 2.
And she looks how I feel.
After each story, she has the same reaction: she looks square into the camera, raises an eyebrow, and then lets out a short sigh and continues the story.
And with that, she almost makes me feel better.
June 1st, 2007 by elie
I may go to school with Israelis, work with Anglos, be related to Charedis, and live amongst Mizrachim, but believe it or not, I don’t hang too much with the Ethiopian crowd. That is - until tonight.
A coworker got married in Petach Tikva and it was a crazy experience for a few reasons:
1. This may sound weird, but it’s been a while since I felt like a total outsider. Yeah, yeah, I feel like an outsider to some extent everyday, but man, not like this. Not according to the colour of my skin and either of the languages I speak. It was an incredible feeling, which is probably only because it doesn’t happen often.
2. Amharic is such a cool-sounding language. And the music is awesome. And the dancing wild. Why? Because the older generation has got the beats down so well, the movements - quick but delicate - and the younger generation has to try and keep up with that. I watched a little dance-off between these two guys, one old and one young, and the young guy was in awe of his elder’s moves and it was gorgeous.
3. I love how emotional yet free-spirited (most) Israeli weddings are in general. How formulated are American weddings? How completely organized and ‘carried out’? Everyone seemed so relaxed here. Like it was actually a happy occasion. Especially the chatan. And the music. And the dance. This is the way it looks:
But, alas, no matter what kind of moves were underway, there were still those who don’t move out of the way; for what would an Israeli wedding be without the obnoxious in-your-face photographer?
