Life is good. On Saturday, I spent three hours reading the
Jerusalem Post paper edition cover to cover while eating lunch outdoors at the
café I love, a block from my apartment. Where
in Tel Aviv do I find people who read and agree with JPost so I can get their
personal take on the issues? Being in Tel Aviv, I only meet Lefties.
I actually emailed this question to R, who kindly replied: “I
don't like to stereotype, but you will find many more 'righties' in the 'modern
orthodox' stream of Judaism or what we call 'kipot srugot' – 'knitted
yarmulkas', and in 'shassniks', black yarmulkas. Nevertheless, I have
friends who are both rightists and secular (but not many…). Also, many of
the immigrants from the US to Jerusalem.”
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| Standard Tel-Avivi breakfast (does not include right-wing Jerusalem Post) |
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| Cafe mates |
I am thinking that if I had stayed three
months in Jerusalem I would have had a totally different take on this country.
Avigdor and I Skyped on this very issue after he read
my last post. He believes that, ever since the establishment
of the modern
Jewish presence in Palestine/Israel, Arab dictatorships in neighboring countries
have used it as an internal ‘pacifier’ and uniting force. The traditional strategy
to quench internal unrest has been to heat the border with Israel and eventually
provoke a war, diverting the popular attention from internal divisions to an
external threat.
What Israelis have lived in the last couple of years is a breakthrough.
Avigdor believes that, for the first time ever, internal issues in Arab countries do
get to the surface and develop all the way to a regime change without leaders
being able to distract the masses by focusing them on Israel.
Regardless of the initial attitude of the new regime towards
Israel, Avigdor thinks that this normalization trend is a harbinger of peace to
the region. And
for Israel, that would also mean some radical soul-searching and dealing with
the growing divide between secular and religious. Of which there is a lot.
I will now pick up
from where I left off on the last blog post.
Rafi’s cousin Avi
seems to know exactly what I am looking for in this trip. On Friday morning he
picked me up at 7 am, as we had agreed, to go on a trip to the Negev, a desert and semi-desert
region in southern Israel. He said he had a surprise for me.
It being the last
day of Passover and a holiday, the city was quiet, with very few cars on the
road. The sun was very bright and the sky was very blue. And I badly needed a
coffee. I had to beg a café employee to
make me one as he was just opening up.
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| Going South |
Our first stop was Kibbutz Or-HaNer, located at the north-end of
the Negev desert, just 6 km west of the Gaza Strip. It was founded in 1957 by a
youth group of South Americans mostly from Argentina and Uruguay, following
Ben-Gurion’s appeal to revive the Israeli desert and make it bloom. Not
surprisingly, their mainstay is cattle and they have a steak house called
Patagonia on site. They decorate the
Kibbutz with sculptures that looked to me like a combination of Aztec and
Biblical. Being this close to the border, it wasn’t a surprise that there are
bomb shelters everywhere.
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| Entrance to the Kibbutz. Funky bomb shelter |
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| Decorative monument. |
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| Kibbutz entrance. Gaza City in the background. |
We then drove towards Havat Shikmim, the farm that belongs to former
PM Ariel Sharon, one of very few privately owned farms in Israel. It is huge,
about 4,000 dunams (where 1 dunam = 1000 m2). There are orange groves as far as
the eye can see, cow pastures (and cows, of course).
From there we went to the town of Sderot, located less than a mile
from Gaza (the closest point is 840 meters). It has been an ongoing target of Qassam rocket attacks from the Gaza Strip
for more than 10 years. The constant barrage of rocket attacks on
the city has killed 13 Israelis, wounded dozens, caused millions of dollars in
damage and profoundly disrupted daily life. The dead include a friend of Avi’s
who was gardening one afternoon when a “small bomb” (as the international media
calls them) hit and killed him instantly.
Sderot is a lovely small town, with flowers blooming in all public
places. All bus shelters have been converted into bomb shelters.
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| Reinforced bus shelters make acceptable bomb shelters? |
As we drove, I noticed an Army surveillance balloon above us (I am
sure there is a better term for it than ‘balloon’; it looks like a zeppelin).
It is part of the work the Army does to identify terror activity in the area
and try to suppress it.
As we resumed highway driving, I asked Avi for the name of the white
town we could see immediately to our right: Gaza City.
“Avi, should we even be here?”
Back on the road, with the radio playing some of the same melodies
I heard a week earlier at the Holon Music Festival. I guess I now have shared memories of those songs.
Our next stop was Kibbutz Nahal Oz. Avi’s son Roy was stationed in
this area while he was in the Army. Life is strange sometimes. A
few years ago, the same morning Avi’s father passed away, Roy and his Army buddy, together with the trained dog they were
working with, caught a terrorist trying to break into Israel. Right on the spot
where were standing.
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| I now know how to use binoculars. |
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| Army parking lot. Just standing there. |
(Many years ago Rafi and I were in Verdun, the site of one of the
major battles during the First World War. I remember thinking then that there
was something distasteful about me just standing there, on soil where so much
suffering had taken place, even if it took place so long ago. Being on this spot here made me feel in many ways even worse. The conflict is real and is current.
And I am just standing there.)
We kept driving south down small roads,
with towns on the Gaza Strip always visible to our right.
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| Gaza, in relation to where we were. Close.Pretty, pretty close. |
We then arrived at the Bitronot Be’eri
Reserve, which covers an area of some 5,000 dunams. “Bitronot” means “badlands” and it is
difficult to work these lands for agriculture due to the dense network of
channels that cut deeply through the soil. The Reserve is very green and it was
hard to believe we were in the desert. Lots of wild flowers everywhere (Avi
told me we were in the “yellow flower season” which comes right after the “red
flower season”). The setting could not have been more peaceful.
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| Be’eri
Reserve Park |
We pulled over to a picnic area and Avi
took out of the trunk fresh fruit and vegetables and we sat there enjoying the
view and the birds in what seemed the most perfect setting. He even played some
song with a harmonica. Overhead, a
muster of storks was circling, on their migration path to Africa.
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| Stork stops, en route to Africa |
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| Avi |
For a while
we were the only ones in the Park. Eventually, a black Kia with tinted windows
drove by, slowed down and pulled over a few metres away from us.
Do terrorists drive black Kias with tinted
windows? No, this was just a family with little kids, also having a picnic.
A while later, two soldiers on patrol
walked by. Just mere kids. With guns. I could not resist asking them to have a
picture taken (Cute: with my lousy Hebrew, they first thought I was asking them to take a picture of me; they shrugged their shoulders and
agreed to do it. I wonder what they were planning on doing with the gun while
taking the photo).
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| Kids with guns. Not playing. |
Once back on the road, we stopped at the
site of the ancient Ma’on synagogue to look at the mosaic floor. A few years
ago, while paving the road, the remains of this synagogue were discovered and its
beautiful synagogue mosaic floor from the Byzantine period (5th-6th century CE)
was revealed. The 1,500-year old mosaic floor is decorated with a seven-branch
menorah and figures of animals and consists of tiles made out of stone and
glass in a variety of colors and at a sophisticated artistic level.
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| Partial view of mosaic floor |
From there we went to the highlight of the
excursion: our visit to a Kibbutz that still retains the old socialist pioneer ideology
in the Hashomer style, Kibbutz Nir Yitzhak.
Nir Yitzhak is a kibbutz
established in 1949. It covers about 5,500 dunams (i.e., big) with a
population of around 550. Nir Yitzhak is a cooperative kibbutz. Once they were all
in that model. Now there aren’t many like it left in Israel.
The Kibbutz movement was founded in 1909 and played a
critical role in the growth of the state of Israel. They were tiny
settlements eking out a living in the far off parts of the land,
expanded the borders of pre-state Israel, led the secret and heroic Jewish underground movement and, to quote the book I am reading, "formed the nascent nation's moral and psychological backbone, giving the state an ideology of sharing and contributing that helped mold a motley collection of Jews from all over the world into a cohesive, determined whole." By 1986, the socialist model had mostly stopped working and Kibbutz Beit Oren became the first one to go bankrupt. Today, most kibbutzim are market-driven organizations.
At the gate we were allowed in by the two soldiers
entrusted with protecting kibbutz residents. In the old days, kibbutzniks
themselves did the shmira, or guard, but now the Army takes care of it. The
fence surrounding the residential areas has triple barbed wire. The Gaza Strip
borders their land.
Hashomer was the first Zionist Youth
Movement, formed in Europe in 1913. From the outset this was a socialist movement
set on realizing its dreams of a new life for Jews in the land of Israel, where
they would be farmers. When I was in my most brain-washable age (to clarify: until I turned14), I
was also a member of the Hashomer movement. I went to Saturday afternoon
meetings, to summer camp where we had to guard the camp “against enemy attacks”
(from other youth groups, who never came), got to wear a blue shirt, and had to
attend endless political indoctrination meetings (only the latter wasn't fun).
At the kibbutz we were met by Avi’s cousin
Shmuel Cohen and his wife Orna. While Shmuel was born in the city of Holon and
only moved in to the kibbutz after marrying Orna, Orna was born there and has
lived her entire life in the kibbutz. They have three grown children, one who
lives in Tel Aviv, a daughter who did not what to live anymore in the kibbutz
so she and her husband bought land and built a house inside a nearby kibbutz
that sells its land (theirs doesn’t), and a third daughter who lives in their
kibbutz.
I had so many questions for our hosts that I did not
know where to start, as I did not want to startle them.
Our initial chit chat was the normal stuff,
about friends, family connections, showing family photos -- plus a quick update
on the difference between Qassam and other missiles they get shot at (note to
self: it is the trajectory). On the
kibbutz tour, our hosts pointed out to me how many of the buildings are
reinforced and act as bomb shelters.
As we drove around the kibbutz, I noticed
the great shape the roads were in. Our host told me that for Operation Cast
Lead (the Gaza incursion a few years ago), the Army used their roads and
destroyed them with the tanks and so on so they repaired the roads and got
compensation for the ruined fields.
Orna and Shmuel’s house is quite large,
especially after the addition of the bomb shelter room, and they have a really
nice, just-renovated kitchen. I thought all meals in a socialist kibbutz had to
be had in the communal dining room, but now kibbutz members have a choice of
either cooking at home or eating together.
Orna and Shmuel invited us for lunch at the
communal dining room, a first for me. The food was good and I was starving
(maybe it was the other way around).
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| Dining room |
While we ate, Orna’s brother and sister in
law joined us. Orna explained to me that
the kibbutz is in a state of flux, where there is dissent on how to go forward
and she thinks they have to move with the times. Her sister in law interjected
that many people want to keep it as is, preserving the socialist model while
others want to modify or change it altogether to a capitalistic model. This discussion
reminded me of being 13 but in a good way, as they didn’t seem angry or dogmatic
(and my group leaders when I was a kid sure were).
The kibbutz livelihood depends on: two
factories, a chemical components factory producing ingredients that go into
medical products and a plastics factory employing 100 people not all from the
Kibbutz but from the area; an agricultural equipment garage; huge dairy and
chicken farms; as well as farming (carrots, potatoes, peanuts, radishes, wheat,
mangos, and flowers) plus the salaries of people who choose to work outside the
Kibbutz. Shmuel and Orna, for example, are
teachers in town and their salaries belong to the community, but the community
pays for their car and gas to get there. For spending money, the kibbutz has a
budget and everyone gets their share to spend as they wish.
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| Orna and Shmuel |
To water the fields here in the dessert,
they use recycled served water from Tel Aviv (it does not smell; it is
processed). Israel is a leader in the technology to use water effectively (and
I feel guilty every morning when I shower in a “Canadian” time frame).
At a few points we stopped and looked
around.
On one stop I saw the most beautiful field of
flowers, which they harvest for the bulbs and ship to Holland, so they
encouraged me to pick a bunch for my apartment. Later we stopped at a field
planted with carrots and, yes, I picked a bunch of the freshest carrots I have
ever eaten.
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| Picking flowers |
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| Freshest carrots |
At another stop, we were really close to
where Gilad Shalit was kidnapped (he was abducted in Israel by Hamas militants
based in Gaza and held hostage for five years until released in exchange for
1,027 Palestinian prisoners a few months ago). We were really, really close. And I had
the same feeling, 'I am just standing here.'
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| Just standing there. Here. |
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| "Yes, right there" |
I asked Orna if she had ever been to Gaza.
“Of course!” she said. “We used to go to the beach there. It is so close. We
would stay until late and the kids would play unsupervised. It was wonderful.
We also went shopping there. Way better prices.” This all ended once the first
Intifada started.
It was clear to me that, regardless of what
those who want to keep to the old socialist model say, things have changed
already from what I would have expected: the kibbutz has to bring in farm
workers from Thailand to work the fields as well as people from the Philippines
to care for the elderly. Their children do not sleep in the communal house
(more on this later) but with their parents, and Shmuel and Orna serve an
excellent espresso at their home.
When Orna was born, all kibbutzim separated
the kids from the parents early on. Kids were raised in a communal house,
supervised by a kibbutz member. This way both parents were free to continue
with their lives, work, do their own thing, and help run the kibbutz. The homes
were therefore much smaller. Orna said that as a kid she loved it very much, as
she had a very close relationship with her mates, and grew up to feel very
independent and self-confident.
When Orna had her first child, about 32
years ago, communal child-raising was still the model. But by then the trend
already was towards more family and less community so there was much discussion
about changing the model. Then the first Gulf War happened, Saddam Hussein announced
that “war with Israel would not end until all Israeli-held territory was
restored to Arab hands” (that sounds familiar) and true to form proceeded to
fire 39 Scud missiles at Israel’s civilian population centers (a total of 74
people died as a consequence of Scud attacks).
Also as a result of the Scud attacks, parents
demanded to have their kids stay with them. After the war, the kids never went
back to the communal house. That is why kibbutniks explain the change as
“because of Saddam.” And also “because of Saddam,” kibbutz homes now have to be
larger to accommodate the more traditional living quarters, each home with its
own bomb shelter (paid for by the government or, as Orna said with a smile, “The
government paid for our reno”).
But Orna also said she would rather give
the reno up for peace.
And this was my cue to ask the question:
What can be done to bring about peace?
Orna thinks the government should move
forward on a peace process much more aggressively than they currently are. She
hears the drones fly overhead and thinks “Do more! Do something! Don’t just
rely on the Army and bombs. Bomb shelters aren’t the solution for us. I want it
to stop. The Iron Dome isn’t enough. Peace is what we need.” She sounded
exasperated.
She believes the Israeli government says
there is no partner to negotiate with because it is easy for them to say it. But
instead Israel must start real negotiations. “It is easy to say ‘they want to
wipe us out’ but unless Israel opens up the negotiations, we haven’t heard them
say that in the
context of the negotiating table.” She also believes that time is running out
against Israel due to Iran’s imminent nuclear capability.
So who should the Israeli government
negotiate with? I asked.
“With Haniyeh. Start with him!”
I think at this point I could hardly
breathe. I was in Orna and Shmuel's living room and I could see the town of Abasan in the
Gaza Strip over my hostess' shoulder, less than 3 km away.
Actually open up the dialogue
with Israel’s avowed hater and the leader most committed to its destruction?
