Ahab

 I made it to my sister over the weekend (the weekend here, for those who don't know, is Friday night and Saturday.)  Friday morning she called and said 'come - over life and death.' I was truly petrified, but packed my overnight bag with extra things, in case, and ordered a Gett.  (That is the taxi service.) 

I have found them to be a reliable service, this time, no sooner had I ordered it than Ahmad, the driver arrived. He happened to be in the vicinity and really needs work.  I told him I am scared and he said not to worry, not many cars are on the roads and if there is a sirenWaze will guide us to a shelter.

We arrive quickly, without trouble.  That afternoon we lay in our respective rooms to rest. Aat 3.30 I was disturbed from my nap by a loud banging on my door - my sister came in. "Didn't your alarm go off? We have to get ready for the shelter." My alarm hadn't gone off.  As the shelter is in their house there was nothing to get ready, we just went downstairs with our phones.  Then all our sirens went off simultaneously. I have to say - it was a nice change, being with them, lying on a mattress.  A small cosy comfort. That night at 2.30 am my alarm did go off - back downstairs we went.   

It was there, in the shelter, that I said to my sister that I feel that Bibi Netanyahu has been obsessed with Iran, like Ahab with Moby Dick.   By this statement I was NOT whitewashing Iran who have been responsible for the bombing of the synagogue in Argentina, many other things, and of course the 7th October - but why now?  Bibi is up for trial,  he is going down in the polls, what a brilliant way to divert the world's attention. He has a madman in America to back him.  And now we have yet another front to contend with. Gaza should be OVER and the 50 hostages, dead or alive, returned.  Finished. Done with.

I feel that the world is desperately in need of a sane and wise leader, and we have none. Just power hungry, money crazed narcissists who don't care if they sacrifice their people or the world. 

It is NOT a comforting feeling, and we sit under bombardments, day and night.

 PRAYERS FOR SANITY.

OCD

I cannot remember how often we had to go to the shelter last night, actually yesterday we had to go in at 8.30 a.m. The next round was, I think 5.00 p..m. At 9.30 I texted my sister to ask (not for her permission, just to check in) whether 9.30 is way too early to go to sleep.  When life is 'normal', I go to sleep about 12.00 p.m.  But life is no longer even approaching the what wasn't normal anyway, existence of our previous life.  I did not wait for her reply,, but simply fell, exhausted onto my bed, only to be jarred into a state of adrenaline filled alertness by the 'warning' siren about half an hour later.  

We constantly receive updated alert systems from the Home Front Command app.  5 days ago we would receive a rattlesnake-like sound which meant that missiles have been triggered and we should get ready to go to a shelter. It may take 30 minutes until we get the next siren which means we have 90 seconds to get to the shelter.  Now we have 10 minutes instead of 30. And we are told that lives are saved by going to a shelter. We see pictures of destroyed buildings in which families have survived because they were in the shelter.  Of course even the best shelter cannot survive a direct hit.  We are shown pictures of those too, along with the names of the dead. 

What do we do in the shelter? We sit in a sort of a circle on not very comfortable chairs. One or two people are wheeled in by their caregivers. We all look at each other sleepily and mumble something like "here we go again," or something similar. I bring a book, but I can't really concentrate. We used to leave after 10 minutes when it was just the Houthis firing at us - they still continue their fire, but of course most of the missiles now come from Iran.  We cannot leave until we get a message from the Home Front Command saying we can leave.  Sometimes we sit for an hour or more - sometimes less, each time is different.

 One of the 'residents' is 96 years old, and quite demented. Her caregiver is an angel from Kerala. The woman, Tamar, stands up after sitting a few minutes and asks where her dog, Toffee, is. Toffee is scared of people so he stays at home, unlike Chungi a pekingese mix who loves greeting everyone and comes up to each resident to have her belly rubbed. 

"Where's Toffee?" asks Tamar.  

"At home" says her caregiver.

"Does she know I will be back?"

"Yes, she is sleeping anyway.

Then Tamar becomes increasingly anxious - "Why are all these people sitting around with long faces. The All clear has sounded."  (It hasn't) and anyway there is not an all clear. She pushes herself up, takes hold of her walker and walks toward the door. Her caregiver gently steers her back to her chair. This becomes a sort of non stop dance until we do get permission to leave or Tamar howls saying she. has to go to the toilet.

When eventually we do get the OK to leave we all say to each other "hope not to see you soon."

This is our new life. I still go to the gym - thank goodness it is open, and I try to paint and knit and do my daily meditation I go to Feldenkrais, and Arabic. There is no ceramics or hothouse work as the instructors cannot get here safely.  

Today, as I hung the laundry, cleaned the perfectly clean cutlery drawer, dusted the perfectly clean contents of my room, straigtened straight pictures and objects, I realised I am doing what I did after I was told my husband was killed, and during the First Gulf War when I was in Israel and Iraq was sending the scud missiles.  I am desperately trying to maintain a semblance of order in this chaotic existence.

I clean and organize what I can in my external surrounding.

 Isn't this what people with OCD do?

The Unblog-able.

Strange title - of course I made the word up. It is based on some inner feeling or working of my sub conscious. All is UN - unbelievable, unblog-able, unforgivable. This is how I feel - no clarity, nothing to hold on to. The mundane continues, of course, and life is lived.  Books are read, art is seen  and looked at, and something is felt in response. Music is listened to. Gardens are grown.  Holidays are observed (celebrated is NOT a word I can use at this time).  The spelling bee is played by me, faithfully, every day for the last few year now.

I had an eye infection, and it was attended to, and is now better. I went to Budapest for a few days, and enjoyed walking around the lovely and interesting city and took pleasure in a refreshing break from the constant stress of life here. Of course I instantly fell back into it. The taxi driver who took me back from the airport saw to that as he lectured me on the absolute necessity of this political war and how we should crush our enemies.  I informed him that I do not feel the same way and tried to maintain silence, but he had a dreadful habit of asking me questions and waiting for my answers.  Hmms and sighs were NOT going to suffice.

The Houthis are in the habit of a missile a night, it seems.  Also we now have an updated app from the Home Front Command.  When it has been detected that a missile has been sent we receive an alert that in the next 5 minutes the sirens will probably sound and we must go to the nearest shelter.  This is to give us time to prepare and get to a shelter safely, but sometimes the missile is intercepted and the alarms don't sound.  I don't know what is more adrenaline producing for me - the warning, or the alarm without a warning.

We are traumatised, we are grieving, we await the remaining 58 hostages, we shout our protests,  We watch what is happening in Gaza and the West Bank in horror.  We watch the Haredim refuse to fight while our young men are dying and being wounded and go crazy.  

This is the unblog-able.

The Scream

 The Scream, by Edvard Munch.

This is what I feel like - holding my disintegrating self together and screaming.

We are being beset by the plagues of Egypt - fires, floods,  famine, brothers fighting brothers, (apologies for masculine form only) missiles, teacher strikes, the slaughter of innocents, the cry of hundreds of thousands at the demonstrations.  Everything falls on deaf ears and non seeing eyes. ENOUGH 

60,000 exhausted reservists have been called up - again . They have to leave their families, their businesses, their homes, whilst seeing their religious counterparts being exempt from service. 

On the eve of Yom HaZikaron - the most traumatic, wrenching day of the year - many of us chose to watch the joint Israeli-Palestinian ceremony which was on zoom, instead of listening to the empty meaningless words of the ministers on Mt. Herzl.  People met at various places to watch the ceremony together.  At a reform temple in Raanana the audience was harassed by young settler who threw fireworks at them and wouldn't let them go to their cars.  The police, under the 'watch' of Ben Gvir, did nothing to help them.

In yesterday's cabinet meeting it was decided upon, unanimously, to expand operations in Gaza.  What for?   To occupy Gaza? to settle there? to expel and starve every last inhabitant? Oh yes, they mentioned the 59 hostages only as an afterthought.  Tthe families of the hostages and almost all of the people of Israel who plead for their release are being tortured.   

And yesterday the Houthis succeeded in sending a missile to Ben Gurion Airport - once again, flights have been canceled. Again we are in the shelters.  We are above ground in a long dark tunnel whilst the hostages are underground being tortured.

Hence The Scream.

Holocaust Memorial Day

I choose today to pour my heart out. I know some people may take umbrage at what I have to say - for this, I am sorry, but if I keep my thoughts and feelings inside, I will make myself sick.

I have just attended a moving Holocaust Memorial ceremony here, where I live.  There are many residents still alive, who came out of the horrors and ashes of Europe and Greece. Some never spoke about it again, others told their stories.  Many souls remain lost and wondering. But one thing seems to have united us as a people - the thought of "never again".

My deep sadness is in humanity as a whole - apparently we have not learned anything from the past. The 'never again' has happened in Rwanda, in Cambodia, in China, in Sudan, in Israel, in Gaza, the West Bank. It is happening to mother earth - we have plundered, raped, pillaged, polluted, choked our mother, and her children.

The only stories that have brought me a modicum of joy in the past two weeks are those of animals : the elephants in San Diego Zoo encircling and protecting their young during the earthquake.  Billy, the three and a half year old King Charles Cavalier Spaniel being returned to his owners on Kibbutz Nir Oz.  He was captured on that terrible black day of October 7th 2023, and taken as a hostage to Rafah.  He attached himself to the Israeli soldiers who identified him via his chip and brought him home a week ago.  His little tail propelled like a helicopter as he was held by his owners who thought they had lost him, along with their home and their grandfather. 

My heart screams out for those slaughtered in Gaza, but I can't say this to everyone. I am accused of not remembering what they did.  Of course I remember, I won't ever forget,  but how can we continue slaughtering? what do we gain?  No one has been able to convince me that anything is gained. I don't think our 'leaders' Bibi and Trump are anomalies - they represent what we have become. Greedy, power hungry, blind to anyone but themselves.

Many days all I want to do is pull the covers over my head and remain there, driving out the constant sound of the planes overhead, the occasional siren, the grief, the fear, but this I cannot and must not do.  As T.S. Eliot said:  "Humankind cannot bear much reality," but I owe it to my ancestors and our children to carry on. I can choose to learn from the late Pope Francis, the Dalai Lama, Nelson Mandela - there are beacons of light in the dark, if we follow them, we too may see the light.

Pesach 2025

 

Pesach, Passover - is the holiday of the celebration from slavery - the celebration of freedom.  No one I know is in a celebratory mood this year.  The hostages are lying in the tunnels of Gaza - the second Passover already.  We are still fighting in Gaza - for goodness knows what reason. Nothing much is left there - tunnels, rubble, death. 

 I have one prayer this Pesach - bring the hostages back home, those who are still alive and those who aren't, and STOP the fighting. 

Shabat, Shoshan Purim

 80 degrees today - cooler than yesterday, which topped 90 degrees.  Last night a full, blood moon, velvet sky dotted with stars that managed to shine through, despite the full and gloriously compelling moon. I sat outside and breathed in the moon and stars, the white blossoms on my clementine tree just beginning to boast their fragrance. 

Today I ate breakfast on my patio,  and enjoyed the shabat quiet. The cooing of birds, the hum of the bees flying in the kumquat and clementine trees. The bosmat is blooming, the begonias flow over the pots, the loouisa and mint are starting up again. Last year I planted one cutting of a shrub that deters mosquitoes - I do not know its name, but it has grown thick and lush, and now has purple flowers.  I really don't know whether it is because of the shrub or the season, but I am able to sit outside without being bitten alive.  So peaceful, so quiet. Every now and then a plane shrieks overhead, taking me out of my comforting state of denial. I am on a news 'fast.' The book I read is Amy Tan's "The Backyard Bird Chronicles" sent to me by a dear friend. Just for now, just for today I look at a tiny little worm squiggling in the air, suspended by goodness knows what, from the clementine tree. It is about 1/4" long and no more than 1/2 millimeter wide, and its body undulates vertically. I wonder what it is and what it is doing, and whether it will survive.

Just for now I imagine the planes I hear are people having fun in the flying field of a neighbouring moshav. Just for today I try not to think of the hostages, of their families, of what is happening in the West Bank, in Gaza, in Lebanon, in Syria. Just for today I do not think of Bibi and what he has done and is doing to us. I do not think of the Orange haired Monster, the South African madman, Putin, Orban - just for today the ever present tears and pain lie quiescent.

Just for today, for now, for this moment.

So Very Strange

 I have no idea of what it is that seems to have affected everyone.  Of course it could be related to March madness, 520 Days of War, 59 hostages still in Gaza, 35 of them declared dead, the changes in the weather, the Trumpian Muskan era - yes, any number of things, but all is so very odd.

A young student comes to me on Sundays at 2.15 for an english conversation lesson. She is always punctual, but last Sunday she did not arrive. This was not normal - I hadn't heard from her or her mother. I called reception to ask for her mother who works here. The receptionist told me she is ill and hadn't been to work.   Later that evening her mother sent me a whats app apologising profusely - the whole family was sick, and she had forgotten to let me know' She feels terrible because she is not usually like that.

Last Monday I took the shuttle to the Kupat Holim in Netanya on Monday, as I had an appointment at 10.30 a.m. When I got there the machine in the lobby that gives numbers was broken - or at least, it consistently spat out numbers for an ultrasound - I was not going for an ultrasound, nor were the men and women before and after me in line.  I went to the receptionist who wore a mask over her mouth, but not her nose.  She took my card and said, your appointment is on Wednesday, not today. It then dawned upon me  that I had mixed up the dates in my head and written them down in the american fashion of month first.  She said she would check whether the doctor could see me anyway, so I stood to the side. The woman after me in line handed in her card and the receptionist told her that her appt. is in April, not March.  Indignantly the woman shouted, "Nu, and what month are we in?"  "March" replied the receptionist in a remarkably patient manner . The doctor couldn't see me so I returned Wednesday.

I am in a knitting group and when I was there a woman sitting near to me told me she bakes bread and delivers it on Thursday evenings.  I ordered a loaf of sourdough bread - really looking forward to it. She delivered the bread Thursday as promised. I put it on my counter and continued with the spelling bee.  After half an hour she called me to say she is very sorry, but for the first time ever she had not put salt in my bread - she was going to come to change it. She drove over and handed me another packet. After she left I saw the paper packet had a man's name on it. I looked at the bread and it was totally different from the previous loaf - I didn't think salt would make such a difference, but shrugged and put it on the counter. I had to make genius at least, so I continued with the spelling bee.  About an hour later there was a knock on my door.  The same woman, saying she gave me the wrong bread - it was gluten free - not sourdough and was for someone else!

It feels like everyone is acting just a little crazy.  

Missed appointments, small errors - not really terrible - just signs of a nation, I think, that is traumatized and stressed. Ministers are fired - army chiefs changed. The judicial coup goes on.  In the macro - this IS terrible - a world out of balance, one day a law is made, half an hour later it is broken, changed  Decisions to have a ceasefire made, broken, violated - no way ahead of us, broken promises and ruins behind and around us.  

Well, the bread when I finally ate it was delicious.  It is the small things that count.

No words left

 The forensic examiner confirmed that the bodies of the two red haired angels, Kfir and Ariel, were those returned.  However, the mother Shiri was not returned - they (Hamas) sent the body of another woman. No one that can be identified by our forensic team.  Where is Shiri's body? Why wasn't it returned with those of her children?

This cruelty and torture knows no bounds.  The response of who and what is left of the Bibas family is that they want ALL the hostages released.  They are not shrieking and crying for vengeance like those lunatics in charge.

God, if there is such a thing, PLEASE hear our cries.

Day 503

 

                                                                         SORRY

We are so very sorry that today you have come home in coffins

We are so very sorry that you were taken as hostages

We are so very sorry that the 7th of October 2023 happened, and no one was there to protect you

We are so very sorry, Shiri, that your parents were murdered that day

We are so very sorry that your husband was taken as a hostage

We are so very sorry that when he came back on February 1st, he returned alone

We are so very sorry that there are still 73 hostages in Gaza

We do not know whether they will be returned. We ssuspect that  this war with no end is going to begin again. The war that has not resolved a thing.  The war that has left nearly 50,000 dead.  

We do know that we have been abandoned by those in charge, who are meant to serve and protect us.   Our wonderful young people  have been killed, wounded, traumatised.  The entire nation is traumatised. It is too much to bear.  We cry, we hurt, we bleed.  We plead for a diplomatic solution to end this unending cycle of violence. We do know that this is very very hard. We know those in charge have no desire to end this horror.  We have to stand up to them and to all of those whose only wish is to kill and destroy.

Somehow, sometime, this HAS to end.

We are so very sorry.

Unbearable

 I recall that at some time in the past few years I published an entry about how my vocabulary has dwindled to two words.  This happened when covid began - my only word then was "unbelievable", and as everything deteriorated I found another word - "horrendous".  Since the first return of the hostages (my last blog entry), I now have another word - "unbearable". 

The situation in which we find ourselves is unbearable.  I quite literally find it hard to breathe. The return on Saturday of the three men has fallen upon us as darkness on the face of the aching land. The dreadful suffering - the realities to which they have returned - murdered partners, murdered children, burned out homes - a country torn apart.  A prime minister who DOES NOT CARE, a terrorist enemy who can not be vanquished. We know this is not over.  Another round is coming.  I wish this were not true.  Please let me be wrong.

I feel that we are all just going through the motions of living . Tears are ever present.  Everyone is on a tight fuse. BRING THEM HOME.   This is what religion is supposed to be built upon  - the saving of lives. The saving of those innocents who were ripped from their homes and families - they were just living their lives.  And noone was there to protect them.  Where was the army? Where were those who are duty bound to protect their citizens?  They knew - they had been told of what was coming.  

This is UNBEARABLE.

January 19, 2025

The entire country awoke Sunday morning with bated breath, anxiety, hope, fear.  Will they return, won't they. Who are they? We know three girls, but then Bibi said until we get the names they won't be returned. Ben Gvir resigned. Smotrich stated the war HAS to continue.  Then the names were released and from 5 p.m. the entire country, except for those who had gone to the streets to receive them, was glued to the TV. 

The first glimpse of them darting, on their own two feet, from the Hamas car to the red cross car, surrounded by Hamas PROTECTING them, was for me, and I think everyone, like an internal stopper had been pulled and all the sorrow, grief, anxiety, fear, despair, anger disbelief of the last 471 days was released.  My tears did not stop, I could not, and did not, want to stop them.

Three beautiful young women have been released and are now surrounded by love and caring.  And again, we wait - who next? Dead or alive? Will the ceasefire hold? Just an hour before I wrote this sirens blared, but then we were immediately informed that they are being tested.  I am not sure my system can withstand this, but it will.  All of our systems will, like they have up to now.

                                                            we are waiting for you

2025

 

The doorway to 2025.