It’s a Small World

The path was still in the shadows as we climbed up Mt. Arbel in Galilee, so although it was supposed to be a hot day, we still hadn’t broken a sweat. The cows and goats were grazing the steep slopes and a brilliant blue bird was singing from a rock. Another beautiful morning in Israel. We reached the base of the cliffs in good time and started to explore the caves where for centuries so many people have sought shelter. Some still show the signs of habitation from 2000 years ago, crumbling rock walls, chipped out rooms and blackened ceilings from a hundred fires.

We were all standing in a cave gazing over the valley, seeing the tiny cows below, the shiny minarets in the town, the green fields and distant hills when Wendell suddenly said “guys, guys, those are explosions.” It was. No false alarms this time. We were well and truly feeling the distant percussion of missiles. Suddenly we saw the streaks in the sky where the Iron Dome intercepted and we were enormously impressed. It seemed to last awhile, and later we heard Hezbollah had fired off 37 rockets, of which 7 were intercepted. That’s about what it looked like. Maybe not such a high average of interception, but better than nothing. We had just been feeling pleased that the drone of planes wasn’t constant up North like it had been last week, but the rocket barrage ended that.

I’m embarrassed to say I was rather tired of war after 3 weeks. And that’s coming from someone who can pack up and leave. I think in a small way our eyes have been opened to the uncertainty and tension that comes along with being at war. If I was a world leader there is one thing I would do, and that is make all fireworks illegal in a country at war. For whatever reason there is often a few fireworks popping off in Israel, and let me tell you! You certainly leap a little if it’s midnight and you’re out on the streets looking for breakfast. Even in daylight it makes one a little mad. I saw one poor man nearly leap out of his skin once, and then calmly walk on.

And the checkpoints. Anything a little untoward, like an unbelievably smoking vehicle, a zippy motorcycle that tries to slip through, or a big traffic jam makes your blood pressure slightly rise. So slight you don’t really even notice, but it’s wearing. Never mind if you lived there. Some of the checkpoints were extra vigilant, with guns aimed at the driver, the back of the vehicle, etc. As far as actually getting stopped and questioned, it rarely happened to us. One cheerful guy asked where we were from, if we were ok, and could he get us anything like tea or coffee?

Palestinian Area A’s have always been a little off limits, but this year they were even more so. Jericho, our favorite town in Israel/Palestine was thankfully mostly open. We slipped in a few times, were warmly welcomed, and served delicious lamb kabobs cooked over a small charcoal fire on the sidewalk, heavenly mango/strawberry smoothies and bottles of freshly squeezed orange juice. Of course you never knew if the roads leading out would have sudden police checks, but that would only mean waiting in lineups. Quite different than Bethlehem, where they literally closed off all roads but two leading into the city. And by closed I don’t mean gate. I mean huge earthen blockades made by bulldozers. Bummer for anyone needing to get in or out to visit or work. Hundreds of cars were parked on both sides of the blockades and people had to walk or take taxi from there. You could scramble over the roadblocks on foot.

Sitting with Fadwa and her sisters the last night in their home, they suddenly asked “but what if we’re next? What if they come take our house? Where would we go?” They had a bit of a plan worked out, but you could see they were uneasy. It had happened to them once, why not again? I hated to see their uncertainty, the way the fears wanted to envelop them. Every day they choose to remain upbeat and work in their gardens, be wonderful hostesses and they took amazing care of us, but you could see it was a very real battle.

Dr Lena burst into tears one night when she finally showed how very worried she was about her sons and grandchildren and their futures in Israel. Should they move or stay? They are from the Ukraine, but they’re at war too. Canada might be an option, but who wants to relocate one year from retirement? She’d have to take a medical exam to practice in Canada, and that takes good English. She’s working on her English, and it’s improving, but not enough to take a test yet. She’s just so lonely. She wants friends, security, and the chance to sit in a church and sing. She has a beautiful singing voice! She wants to know her grandchildren won’t have to fight. She aches for fellowship. My heart broke for her.

We spent one night in a large Hotel on the shores of the Sea of Galilee, and it was teeming with Northern Israeli evacuees. They couldn’t stay in their homes cause of the missile threat, so here they were living, no idea when they would go home, or if they would have a home. Dogs and kids romped around the inner courtyard, and everyone seemed cheerful. But what kind of a life is that anyway? Packed in a little hotel room, day after day while your plants and farms withered and died, dust gathered and your businesses stayed closed. We thought it was interesting seeing the missiles, but for the folks at the hotel it must have been torture.

So is it scary to travel in Israel now? No. We felt almost completely safe. That sounds contradictory to what I’ve been saying, but it’s true. Its complicated. It’s not scary but it’s hard. The last thing you want to do is bring them more stress by acting naive about what they’re facing, you don’t want to talk politics or take sides, and you don’t want to act too understanding because you can’t understand. After all, you have a ticket out. So many people thanked us for being willing to come in spite of the situation, it was almost embarrassing.

Do any of us native North Americans have a clue how blessed we are? How much we take for granted? You can feel guilty, but as my Arabic teacher from Hebron said, “feeling guilty won’t help them (Gazans) and the best thing to do is embrace what you’re given. We weren’t meant to stop our lives with hate and depression, cause that only harms more people.” Very wise woman, that.