A Synopsis

 I see my last entry was on March 14 - some of my sketches.

Today is March 25th. I believe this new war began March 1st, or February 28th.  Time is very difficult to track.  For one thing, the entire nation is sleep de
prived - we are rudely awoken by the rattlesnake at odd times - maybe 11.00 p.m.   2.30 a.m.  4.30 a.m. 7.00 a.m. Whenever.  Our day routines, such as they are - are interrupted at varying intervals.  I think there was one night when we actually slept all night - the alarm sounded at 8.00 a.m. or close to that. 

In our high alert, sleep deprived state the smallest noise causes me, anyway to jump and get ready to run. My biggest fear is being in a car and having to stop and get out and lie down.  Before I get in a taxi I ask whether they will stop, because not everyone does, although we are told repeatedly to do so. I have my showering down to a fine art.  To go to the mall close by is OK because there is enough time between the warning and the siren to either return home or to get to a shelter at the mall.   I was caught in the neighbouring village during an unusual downpour.  My taxi driver took me to the ATM and showed me a spice shop nearby.  He also pointed out the public shelter.  We agreed to meet on a corner when I had finished my errands.

I was in the small, crowded spice shop when the rattlesnake sounded.  I had time to complete my purchases before the siren, if there was to be a siren.  I bought my things and stood outside on a pavement, looking at the rain.  Many people stood there waiting for the siren. Some customers left their bags on shelves, others hastily bought their items.  The siren sounded and we all walked to the shelter and climbed down the stairs, down and down and down to s small room.  We stood there jostling together, someone hermetically closed the door, mothers bounced kids, backs were patted.  After about 10 minutes the home front command sounded that we could leave.  The door was opened and we all left and continued whatever we had been doing - buying, drinking coffee, talking to a friend.  It is surreal.

The TV announcers working 24/7 keep saying - damage to property, no one hurt, middile intercepted, or fragments falling, keep away from them. When people are wounded or killed they insinuate that if they had gone to the shelter they would be OK.  All very well to say, but not everyone has access to shelters, or can reach one in time. 

I think the word chaos aptly describes our present situation.  Chaos and uncertainty.  Chaos and uncertainty and fear.

I had described my morning today in the gym, but it got lost somewhere and I don't feel like describing it again.  Suffice to say that while we were attempting to maintain some sanity by exercising - we had two alerts, one just 10 minutes after the other.  

Chaos.

Some photos from various shelters

Some Sketches

 

This is So Strange

This latest war, which we were all expecting, but noone was wanting, began on Saturday February 28th with the wailing of the siren at 8.00 a.m.  Today is March 10th. Life has changed.

Firstly, sleep deprivation is a terrible thing - I feel like a zombie. Everything feels scrambled and unclear in a way that is difficult to describe.  What day is it?  What is the time? Do we have lessons today? will the gym be open? Can we walk outside? Does anyone know what is going on?

I never go to bed before 11.30 - 12.  Now a torpor seems to have gotten hold of me. I climb into bed, fully dressed at 9.00 or so, seem to fall asleep only to be rudely awakened by the rattlesnake.  A new routine now, rattlesnake, grab phone to look at time, fall out of bed, put on my slippers, come to the living room, turn on the TV.  The commentators, who seem to be there 24/7 are talking, underneath are headlines declaring a missile has been fired from Iran, get close to your shelters.  I stare at the screen waiting to see the names of the villages and towns in the missile's way - if I see our moshav then the siren blares and I grab a warm coat and bag and go outside to the shelter in the nearest building.  If our name doesn't appear, I fall back under the covers and inhale and exhale as instructed, and hopefully go back to sleep. 

On the way out of my room I see doors opening and people walking quickly to their assigned shelters. I push on the power door of the building, the door opens, and inside I go, nodding and waving to the Indian and Philippina helpers. I walk to the sofa which has become my de facto seat, because I can get off it.  Everyone has their seats. We hear booms and mutter 'there is a boom, that is close, there is another one." Someone gets up to pull the door tightly shut with a loud bang that sends us all flying.  Then we wait, can't read, can't knit,  some people try to say something, but it is mostly not audible due to the various afflictions of age which cause speech impediments. The waiting could be 30 minutes, an hour, ten minutes - we wait for the all clear beep from the home front command.  The helpers seem to receive it a few seconds before us. They stand up, so do we, and we leave.  Till the next time.

At home I shower, very quickly, if it is time to shower, or simply crawl back into bed and wait for the next alarm.  I may cook something - quickly, or put on a pot of tea, and hope I remember to turn it off for the next alarm.    WHICH IS NOW.

It is very difficult to concentrate.  I am drawing some things (will put in the pictures).I am knitting - fancier patterns each hat. I look at whats apps, foreign news, play the spelling bee, and wait - for the inevitable next rattlesnake sound or the siren (that means we have no waiting time - must go, fast.  Sometimes I stare at the TV screen and am shocked by the villages and cities in the north that have to deal with non stop drones and missiles.  Then maybe the next Iranian missile is more towards Jerusalem and the south.  This teeny weeny little country is under fire from everywhere.

P.S. Now the Hezbollah have joined in and the north is under constant barrage.

The Waiting Game is Over

I published The Waiting Game on February 26.  On the 28th February at 8.30 a.m. - (or close to then) the wail of the siren over the country.  The war has begun. And so, here we are again.The dreaded sound like a cross between a rattlesnake and a vampire being beheaded and bones being dragged across glass - the alert that causes us to behave like Pavlovian dogs.  No matter what we are doing - sleeping? taking a shower? peeing, or heaven forbid, even worse? drinking coffee? out walking? in a car? All hearts jump as one, our heart beat way harder and quicker than is healthy, the blood courses through our vascular system like a raging river. Our adrenaline does whatever adrenaline does, and we wait - like for a lottery.  For the siren - will the missiles be in our area or not? when is the siren coming? When it does begin we have 90 seconds to get to a shelter. 10 seconds if you are in the north of the country. 15 seconds in the south.  And off we go. And sit down, and nod at our fellow sheltermates. and everyone clutches their phones, and we wait - again.  We nod at each other each time there is a boom, and say something inane like, "close, another one, and another, ooh."  This time we wait for the booms to end and the notification that we can now leave the shelter.

Till the next time.

And we watch  -  the same talking heads, and we know that we are not being told everything, or shown everything - but people have been killed - in shelters, out of shelters.  Lots of damage - the Hezbollah has joined in, the UAE countries are being bombed. Khomeini is no more.

And so already three days have been spent.

The Waiting Game

Nervewracking.   Like Waiting for Godot.

Yesterday, whilst scrolling through short vignettes by those who know exactly what is happening, and when it will happen, or may not happen. (I am of course referring to the confrontation between USA and Iran) I saw a hilarious video.   Khomeini stands next to He Who Shall Not be Named - - Khomeini shakes his fist at him and shouts:  "Decide already, you are driving me crazy."

I think this is yet another state of insanity. That the world awaits the whim of idiot monsters.  And as for the pundits, ...... 

So, yesterday I received a whats app from my niece, the mother of 2 children, one of 8 and the other 5.  That morning their school had an earthquake drill  When they came home her son asked what to do if there is an earthquake and at the same time an air raid siren. Her daughter suggested they be divided into two groups - one group will go outside and the second group will go to the shelter.  After a few minutes the groups will change places.

Only in Israel.

Some Photos

 

I have been hiking, taking photos, doing pencil drawings (obviously I am copying Illustrations).  Other than that, watching The Lincoln Lawyer, and reading and rereading Jan Phillip Sendker's trilogy - The Art of Hearing Heartbeats, The Heart Remembers, A Well Tempered Heart.  Knitting also, and doing yoga, etc.

Uncertainty

This is the permanent way in which I/we - now live.  There are some things that so far continue as they always have.   Day follows night - the sun and moon continue to rise and set.  Monday follows Sunday. Shabat continues to be shabat.   We still count from 1.

The weather is no longer like it used to be.  Animal and plant life have changed - the entire world appears confused.  Will Trump attack Iran, Will Iran attack Israel, what about Greenland????? What about Gaza???  Ukraine?  We are in the hands of utterly insane men who worship power and money above all else.

It is an all consuming task to remain centered, which is, I think, the only thing to do. 

At last we have rain, of course too much - so flashfloods, sinkholes, accidents, drownings, but along with it carpets of yellow and here are the first harbingers of spring.