The Death of Democracy?

This morning (a.m. in Israel) I turned on CNN and in utter disbelief looked at the colour red spreading across America. "This cannot be happening again," I texted to my friends in America, I really feel like a witness to the death of democracy.  Last night Netanyahu fired Gallant, the Defense Minister, in the middle of a war.  Now words to describe this, and he did it just to save his coalition.  I feel like we, the citizens of the world, are sliding down a steep slide that is getting steadily steeper. The downward slide  gets faster, and there is nothing to hold on to.  Nowhere to brake our fall.  Nothing.

To calm myself this morning, after my workout in the gym I went to the plant nursery.  I sat down surrounded by pots of colourful flowers, fragrant herbs ,and shrubs - seedlings sprouting, bursts of colour, new life, the deep rich smell of earth. There were only four of us;  the woman in charge, called Iris (I mean, did she have any other choice in life but to work with plants?) a transplanted American, like myself, and an annoying woman who had come to visit Protea and sees it as her future home.  Annoying to me because of her loud screechy voice.  The American and myself were of course talking about the elections, when, at 11.20, the siren started.  The woman in charge told us there is a shelter in the nearby cafe, and off we went.  We were being herded into the small room by a lovely young man who is now in charge of the cafe.  Lots of old people I had never seen before - afterwards the young man told me they come for their morning coffee from the surrounding moshavim.  A few of us heard explosions, but apparently most of the people were - let me put it nicely, hard of hearing.  They are lucky!  After 10 minutes we left, but the calm of the nursery was over.  We called it a day.

I had planned to go to the supermarket yesterday, but landed up having a discussion with someone after arabic and didn't go.  Lesson to me - NEVER put off what you plan till a later time.  Now I am too bloody scared to go, not only because of the missiles, but what if Iran attacks at any moment?  But then, if there is a full scale attack from Iran, I may never need food again.

Some of my family members are due to return from Germany today - on TV they said a missile exploded in the area of the airport. Quick texts between all family members as to what will happen. It seems like the airport is open and they will make it back, although they might not want to return.

 On TV - reports of where the missiles had fallen, then four leaders of the opposition speaking about the firing of Gallant, and the current and present danger.  Then came a long documentary on the rise of Trump - I  turned it off, I really can't handle it.

I will have a cup of rooibos tea.

Nerves

 I think it is safe to say that my nerves are shredded.  Why, I wonder, do I (in fact 'we') use the phrase 'safe to say?'  What could happen to me that would make it unsafe to say, and what, exactly, does it mean - safe to say.  This is a conundrum for another time.  Whatever is safe or not safe to say, is that my nerves are shredded.  

I feel I have lost track of what holiday we are now about to 'celebrate'.  I think it is Simchat Tora, which is exactly the black and terrible day of 7th October 2023.  Because of these holidays the regular schedule is not the same - some days there are activities as usual, somedays there aren't. Of course here in the Village our management keeps us informed of what is and isn't happening, but nevertheless it is hard to keep track. The swimming pool is not in use as it is being repaired, so that is one activity that is not happening. 

On a personal level it is hard to keep up of which times and which days we run to the shelter, which nights are 'quiet', which days are 'quiet.' Quiet is relative, because quiet in this area doesn't mean it is quiet up north, or in the lower Galilee, or down south, or in the West Bank, or if there are successful or unsuccessful terrorist attacks in various towns. It merely means, this little area is quiet.  We do hear booms, but if there are no sirens, then we are not in the direct line of fire.

Last week before the Succot holiday I was invited to friends for the morning of Succot.  We thought it would be nice just to be together for a couple of hours.  My friend had invited me the day before, and I left her a message thanking her, asking what I should bring, and also, just by the way, to let her know I was feeling extremely unsettled.  All day I had a bad feeling - worse than normal. That night there were explosions, sirens, incoming drones. I watched TV and the announcer said a drone had hit something near Wadi Ara, then they said Binyamina, then they said 6 people wounded, 10 people, the number quickly rose to 67.  This was not in Binyamina - 67 people wouldn't have been outside - it must be an army base.  4 people killed, we clung to the news, but no names or places were announced.  At 11.30 I received a phone call from the same friend who had invited me, and my heart pounded fiercely - her grandson is in basic training. She called to tell me the attack had been at his army base - him and his unit were OK - obviously dozens of other young men weren't.  

NONE of this makes for settled nerves.  No further sirens for a few days, but one's nervous system is on high alert.  Driving in a car - if there is a siren, stop and go away from the car and lie down.  If you are near a shelter, go to the shelter, we know the drill.  We know being in a shelter saves lives.  

A few days and nights of 'quiet.' Then this morning I had to get up early as the cleaning lady was due to come. I looked at my phone and saw that missiles were being sent everywhere in the North and the Center.

We are in the Center, but it was quiet. I have a meditation app I listen to every morning, and it always amazes me how the subject exactly ties into what is happening. This morning the subject was 'how commotion can be useful in our practice."  In other words, how to find peace within chaos.  Hahhhhhhh - they spoke about outside noises and how to deal with them - that we think we should be meditating in a peaceful quiet manner in a peaceful quiet world, but inevitably interference happens.  As I finished the practice there was a tremendous explosion - peace is not what I experienced. While waiting for the siren I put on slippers, grabbed my phone and ran to the shelter.

The wi fi doesn't work in the shelter.  After 10 minutes we thought it would be safe to leave, but I called the front desk to check. The man who answered shouted at me "there was no siren."    WHAT???? - 6 of us were sitting in the shelter because of the explosion and siren.  He began to argue with me and I slammed the phone down.  So much for peace in chaos.

We did leave - but of course everyone is on edge.  And, just to let you all know, I DO think of the people in Gaza, in Lebanon, in Ukraine, in Sudan - I think of the upcoming American elections.  I just cannot dwell on these thoughts endlessly.

Yesterday there was a funeral for a girl of 22 who committed suicide a year after the Nova massacre.  On TV they said there has been a 60% rise in anxiety and stress amongst children.  All our nerves are shredded.

And so today, after the upsetting morning- I went to the gym, and am now blogging. I will do my arabic homework as I have a lesson this afternoon - so, life continues. I bought vegetables, flowers, accepted an invitation to a birthday brunch. This is how it goes.

Addendum

 A postscript to the entry about Whiskey.  By the way, whiskey, or whisky?  I have seen it both ways.

This morning I walked past the notice board in the reception, and saw that the fragile doctor passed away last night. I gather it was quick and merciful, and I hope he had a whiskey next to him. He lived to be 100 and died just before Yom Kipur, the death of a righteous man.

I wish him lechaim on his new journey.

Anger, Bewilderment

As I write this, I have not imbibed any alcohol, despite my afore stated love of whiskey.

In case anyone reading this doesn't know, we are now at war with Hezbollah, in the north. We have in fact, been at war with them since the Hamas attack in the south on October 7th, 2023.  Hezbollah began sending rockets on October 8th. Our prime minister has not seen fit to defend and help the 100,000 refugees from the north for almost a year. The same way he has not come to any agreement about the hostages in Gaza. 

I have been going faithfully to demonstrations every Saturday night for over a year.  Recently, I have become unclear why I bother - whatever we do falls upon deaf ears. Nothing changes,  it just gets worse and worse and worse.  There is no plan for after the war with Hamas, and now suddenly we have gone to war with the North "to return our refugees." What kind of a plan is that?

I am utterly bewildered - I cannot understand how this will help the refugees return - the idea of a ground invasion horrifies me, I can't see the point of continued assassinations. 

Just to remind anyone reading this - this is my opinion. I am not a politician, I am not a strategist, all I can do is voice my opinion.  Before the demonstration last Saturday evening I again began considering - "it is hot, should I go? what difference does it make?" This inner debate continued for half an hour, then I decided to go.

On the way I received a photo of the grandson of someone living in New York. This person is an Israeli. Supposedly he knows what is going on here.  But never once has he asked how I am, or how any of his friends are.  It is the third photo of the grandson in as many days.  I suddenly experienced a rage directed at him, but obviously coming from a deep place of sorrow and confusion in me.  I texted him that we are living in two different worlds, the world I inhabit is one of sorrow, anger, fear, confusion, anxiety, uncertainty. It is not enhanced by a barrage of photos of a new baby.

I arrived at the demonstration feeling my rage boiling over. I picked up the flag and stood at the bridge to listen to the speeches.  A psychiatrist spoke. She said  she knows that most of us there experience depression, anxiety, uncertainty, hopelessness - she knows we don't know whether to continue demonstrating, or whether just to take to our beds and not get up any more.  Then she said - 'that is the state that our government thrive on - they can continue to do what they want, because of the silence of the majority. What they cannot deal with, what they fear most of all, is rage.  It is rage that will change things."

Hah, justified.

And so, almost a week of hell has passed since then, missile attacks, sirens, talks of a cease fire,  no cease fire, the frequent flying Prime Minister and his wife (a journalist has labeled him as a frequent flyer) is off to speak at the UN - and here I am, experiencing rage.  And I am not alone - a rage is boiling over.

What will be the outcome? - No one knows. It doesn't seem like anything positive at all as we get closer to Rosh Hashana and the anniversary of 7th October 2023.

Please pray for everyone here in the Middle East. EVERYONE.

Let there be some clarity. Even just a teeny weeny ray of light.

Whiskey

I like whiskey, even though a very good friend of mine, who shall not be named, has told me I am not a true whiskey drinker.  The reason  for this insult is that I told her that I simply cannot drink whiskey when the average night time temperature is  90 degrees.  In other words, it is bloody hot and sticky here in Israel, and has been so for three months.  She insisted that a true whiskey lover will partake, no matter the weather.

As you know, I live in a retirement community.  One of the more delightful residents - a former South African, and a whiskey drinker, has been rather unwell for some time.  This has been very upsetting, of course to her, but also to those of us who enjoy her company. She has a devoted Philippina attendant who cares for her.  She wheels her and her maltese poodle to all the activities, concerts, and lectures she is able to attend. She wheels her to the park at sunset, and to the clinic for her medical appointments. 

In the past, when the resident was in a better state, she would invite me and another resident  over at 6.00 for a 'drinky.' The attendant would faithfully replenish the ice and make delicious appetisers. These delightful activities have been on hold for quite too long as the woman has been in and out of hospital. 

Recently, since she has improved somewhat, she will call to invite me over, only to call later to cancel.  This week she asked me over for Monday night, then canceled.  Wednesday also was a no go.  However Thursday morning she said to me "it is on tonight for 6, but we won't be a threesome. I have invited a number of people, but I can't remember who. Come to me at 6, and whenever the bell goes we will see who walks in.

I went over at 6. Her wheelchair stroller was parked by the door.   I walked in to see  a couple sitting around the hostess' recliner. He had a tumbler of whiskey, and she had a glass of white wine.  They are an elderly (redundant word) former South African couple.  My hostess' way of introduction was to tell them I enjoyed whiskey.  I then quoted my friend.  The man said, of course you can drink it in summer, just put in lots of ice. The hostess in her recliner, dog at her feet, held a tumbler of whiskey.  The man poured me a healthy shot and we drank lechaim.  After a knock at the door a very large female resident came into the small apartment  with her stroller. She navigated to a chair, and said "whiskey is mother's milk to me."  I poured her a healthy shot, and the attendant replenished the ice bucket.

 The hostess was ready for a second shot.  A short while later another knock and in came a strong Philippina attendant carrying a very frail looking man. He didn't look very good! She propped him on the sofa,  and poured him a whiskey!  Then the man's wife came in walking alone with a cane. She had a glass of wine.  

The man is 100 and was a doctor. His body as I said, is  frail - but his mind seemed fine.  He had left his hearing aids at home, as had some of the others, but after repeated yelling he answered questions to the point, made suggestions, and generally engaged in the conversation which centred around whiskey, medications, and King Charles hugging some paralympic competitors.  That was surprising, because the King is NOT supposed to hug anyone.  From Charles the conversation turned to Winston Churchill who thrived on alcohol and cigars, and the Queen Mother who tippled away at gin and tonics, and also lived to a ripe old age.  Princess Margaret was also a heavy drinker, but she died much earlier.  We agreed that being a prime minister of a country at war, or being born to royalty, is a heavy burden, and probably it was eased by alcohol.  We did NOT mention our prime minister.

The hostess was ready for a third, the woman who told us whiskey was mother's milk to her hurried to catch up. The first man there also wanted a third but his wife seemed somewhat averse to the idea, so he said to her "yes dear,"  and didn't have a third.  He told me the secret to a good marriage is two words "yes dear" and it seems to have worked for them. 

The hostess drank her third, because, after all she didn't have to stand up and get wheeled or push a stroller anywhere.  She looked far better than she has looked in a long while. I suggested she give up her medications and just have whiskey.  This was repeated several times in question form to the frail deaf doctor. Once he heard the suggestion,  he raised his second glass in her direction and said lechaim.  Obviously he concurred.

Anyone ready for a shot?

Single malt for me.

Here Goes

 Here goes an attempt at a new entry.  Tomorrow I am hopefully meeting a group of 23 people whom I have never before met. We will be going on a one week spiritual/mystical tour of the Greek mainland. Temples, monasteries, the homes of the Gods. I say hopefully because as I have attempted to describe in previous entries, life here is moment to moment. The airport is open, the airport is closed, planes leave Israelis stranded in foreign countries ,then Israeli airlines charge extortion rates to bring them home. For those that still have a home - despite the 'defeat of the Hezbollah attack" missiles and rockets continue to bombard the north.  The Gaza 'envelope' continues to have rockets sent, many schools are not opening in September.  Schools that can open, in the center of the country, may not open because of teacher strikes. An Israeli Bedouin hostage was returned yesterday - some momentary joy as we wait and hope, and pray for the remaining hostages to be returned.  Talks have stalled - WHAT a surprise. Nasrallah lies to his people, Sinwa lies to his people, Bibi lies to everyone - America tries. 

So sorry, yet again, a miserable entry.  I will be gone a week. 

Waiting Game - Day 308

Iran, Nasrallah,  The Hezbollah, Hamas - terrorists, yes, certainly.  They are also geniuses of psychological terrorism. 

The nation waits - what will come next? when will it come? How will it come? Will it come?

Where? when? Are we ready? Who is lying to whom? Which airlines are flying? Which airlines aren't flying? Will civilians be hurt? Where are all the army bases? Are our shelters strong enough? Will there be electricity? Won't there? What about the hostages? We are close to a deal, we are far from a deal, yet again. 

WHY is Bibi opposed to a deal? What the hell is wrong with Smotrich and Ben Gvir? How did we get here? What is going to happen?  

And in the meantime life continues - do we go to a demonstration or don't we? Is it safe or wise to visit Druze families in Majdal-Shams? Is it safe or wise to go to a museum in Tel Aviv? Jerusalem? Herzlia? Should we meet friends on the beach? Arabic homework is so difficult this week. What am I doing at my age sitting down with an exercise book struggling with homework?  What art will I work on now? Oils, watercolours? Maybe nothing. To go to yoga or not go to yoga? Which shelter to go to?

And on top of it so many people here have come down with corona - because they did go on an outing together, and attended lectures and classes together. And the heat - the hottest June and July since records began. 

But thank goodness - the Olympics continues - please don't let it finish. Then comes the question, what to watch? What will save us?

What Next?

To say I feel really sad, disheartened, concerned, fearful, anxious, would all be an understatement. 

I guess it is no surprise that I have some kind of virus - sore throat, cough, fatigue, voice gone (to the delight of some, I am sure) - not corona, tested negative. There are of course many other viruses lurking in the bowl of soup in which we are living. The hottest June and July on record and now we lurch into August - the heartbreaking killing of the Druze children playing soccer on a Saturday - the targeted assassinations of the Hamas political leader, and the Hamas military commander, and Hezbollah's commander - blood, blood, blood.  Chopping of monsters' heads will only spawn many more monsters. This is like an insane game of chess, subterfuge, counterfuge, and thousands of innocent people dead.  And now we wait in dread for what will come next. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, and soon there will be noone left - 

Once again airlines have stopped flights. Last night I bid a teary farewell to a dear family who have to go to a wedding in the States - they had to change all their flights and plans and have a very long, expensive trip ahead of them, and don't know how they will get back - if they get there.   I am not given to crying much, but these days it seems that is all I do. 

This week I haven't even had the wherewithal to do much other than sleep and watch the Olympics. Thank GOD for the Olympics. What will happen when they are over?

This is all far too much.

Shabat

Shabat today.  The temperature outside is 33 degrees (that is about 98 fahrenheit) humidity is at 63 %. In other words, not a day to venture outside - I swam this morning in the lovely pool - only 4 of us were enjoying the water, until the grandkids came at 11.  I am at home catching up on things, listening to Rhiannon Giddens on Spotify. I have neither looked at, nor listened to any news for 2 days. I truly can't handle it. Tonight I will go to the demonstration at the bridge and get caught up with everything.  I know there is a march to Jerusalem demanding that Netanyahu go with the 'deal' to release the hostages. I will also hear about that later.

With the suffocating heat we are all suffering from - all over the world, I wonder why countries bother to send armies to battle, we will all just fry anyway - we don't need to kill each other on top of it all.

So here is some of my recent art. 

Mount Sinai, in pastels.  Whether sub consciously or not,  I began this on Shavuot - the time Moses received the Torah.

The above is in pencil, I have entitled it (with apologies to Thich Nhat Hanh - No mud, no lotus."  So far we have plenty mud.

This week I attended to second get together of "Women Promote Peace."  We met on Sunday in a beautiful sustainable farm.  Really heartwarming, and nice to see people again, but it is but an infinitesimal drop in the great bloody ocean.

And on that uplifting note - shabat shalom.

I am scared

 I have been physically under the weather, apparently some unknown virus.  A little headache, a little fatigued, a little congested, a little cough, a streaming nose.  It is NOT corona or the flue - there is now a new test here that tests both.  It will pass.  Everything passes. 

I decided to listen to the presidential debate this morning - I am scared.  Trump (he who shall not be named) scares me - he scares me like Putin, Kim Jong Un, Erdogan, Netanyahu, Nasralla, Sinwa, .scare me. How can we even think that all the horrors which beset the planet will pass? If and when they pass they will leave in their wake an apocalypse of a planet.   I really try to be in the moment, to do yoga, to meditate, to paint, to garden (FULLY protected against mosquitoes), to go to demonstrations, attend gatherings, but today I am scared. Maybe that is why I do not feel well.

Up and Down

When I was growing up in Johannesburg,  The Rand Easter Show would come around once a year.  Johannesburg was part of an area known as the Rand, which included some other towns and farming areas.  The Show lasted about a week or 10 days, I don't remember anymore.  It was a fun event - like a great big fair.  New farming equipment and the latest model cars were on show.  There were people selling different fares.  We could go for rides on animals  We bought popcorn and candy floss - I remember sticking my tongue into the fluff for the first time, and how it melted and tasted sort of warm-ish, and transformed from a cotton ball into melted sugar strips.  There were also all sorts of fun rides, houses of mirrors, fun things. I must have had a sensitive vestibular system as a child - some of the rides really scared me - I remember screaming for dear life as the roller coaster began its downward swoop - my stomach lurched outside of me, and I was grateful when the ride ended. I did not get on it again. There was something else, like a round wall and you stood with your back to it and it began spinning around and the floor dropped away and one was stuck to this wall in odd configurations.  Not for me.

Why am I remembering all these things - on Saturday 4 hostages were rescued - the country experienced euphoria, mixed with fear for the others still somewhere in Gaza, the officer killed, all the Palestinians killed - and the eternal - what next?  As a friend said to me, life here is a roller coaster.

That exactly describes the way we are living since that "black Saturday."  As I said, I was not a great candidate for the carnival rides.  I experience a strange feeling of discombobulation.  I feel disoriented, even, in a way, disembodied.  I think most people feel the same.  It is not a good feeling.

What I am doing today

It is Sunday, May 26.  I.go to a nearby village for therapy on Sunday morning.  After my morning coffee and shower I called the taxi company so that a taxi would pick me up and then bring me back.  The little village is 15 minutes away by car.  Today the taxi driver arrived early, hooted (honked for you Americans) made a U-turn and stopped outside my house.  I hurried, upset that he was  early as that would mean I would have to wait outside the therapy building for at least 10 minutes - there is no shelter and today is hot.  I said 'good morning' to him and got in the car. He grunted  "morning" and off he flew - over untarred, narrow stony roads. Of course I arrived early - paid him and got out. Then I had a sinking thought - 'where did I put my key?"  I searched my bag - it wasn't there, felt in my pocket, not there. Had I left it in my door -I know I locked it but as I was in a rush maybe I left it there. This took up 10 minutes so I pressed the door buzzer, and .... it didn't work. I was asked to try various combinations - nothing worked.  My therapist came to let me in.

In the return taxi I told the driver I think I may have left my key in the other taxi - he called the office and they contacted the other driver. He answered saying he wasn't in his car and he would look later.  When I got home I got a spare key from reception.  After that I went to the nearby mall to get some food and have a frozen yogurt. In the supermarket I saw the helpful friendly Arab woman who works there - we greeted each other, "hamdelila" everything is good, and we smiled at each other.  I bought a bread, very pleased that I could ask for it in Arabic. It is not a long sentence - "I want bread" and "thank you."

I ate a yogurt outside under an umbrella and then walked home.  At 2 o'clock I opened my door with the spare key, put my trolley and bag down and turned to close the door.  At exactly that moment I heard the air raid siren.  We haven't had a siren in 6 months - I couldn't quite believe it.  My preference would have been to get into bed, but it wasn't really an option - I grabbed my phone and went to the shelter in the building next to me.  Old, demented people and their petrified Philipino caregivers. Little yapping dogs. Boom boom boom - explosions, or the iron dome?  or both? My wi fi wasn't working.  10 minutes of confusion - then the all clear.  A barrage of missiles had been sent to the central area of Israel from Rafah.  

We were OK, thank goodness. Shaken up, of course, but OK. Planes overhead all the time, but they are overhead all the time, day and night.  

It is now 5.00 p.m. The taxi driver returned my key and I have yoga at 5.30.  Tonight is Lag B'Omer - festivities supposed to be outside in the park - maybe they wont be.

EVERYTHING is tentative.

What I'm Doing

 

I took the photo of this Sylvia Protea in my friend's garden in Tiburon.  Recently I drew it using colour pencils.

This is a photo I took in a street in a village

I did this in pastels from a photo of Mt. Legogoto in Northern Gauteng. The photo was in the Daily Maverick, an online South African newspaper.

I work in a food bank packing large crates of vegetables.  I found these 2 interesting looking eggplants.

From one of the Saturday night demonstrations in Tel Aviv

And on Thursday May 223rd I had surgery in my left eye.  I have a condition called canaliculitis -  after trying various treatments I went ahead with the surgery.  The doctor had told me that it is the only thing that works. Apparently he removed stones and inserted a shunt!!!!!!!!  My eye does, in fact, 2 days later, feel better.  I can actually open it in the morning.

So all of the above is to let you know I am alive and of course - just distraught over what is happening, and therefore won't say a word.  Or, maybe one.

CHAOS

Apologies

 I know there are those who look at my blog, at least, the statistics show that people look at it. Surprisingly large numbers which makes me think the algorithms are off.  Anyway, for those who do, you will have noticed that I have not written any entries since that surreal night of the Iranian attack.I simply do not feel like it. I have nothing to say. It feels like there is just one horror after another.  As it is, these days between the end of Passover and before Independence Day are always very difficult in Israel.  As my late friend Ziva would say, "The terrible days". Holocaust Memorial Day, Day of Remembrance.  And it is all just too much. So, thats it - sorry - nothing to say.  I will make an entry when I feel up to it.

Be well.

Passover

 Tomorrow evening is Pesach - most people will be sitting down for the seder with their families. This Pesach is without joy, without hope.  The angel of death has touched almost everyone.  How can we celebrate the holiday of freedom when the hostages are still underground.  The war rages on, in Gaza, in the north, Iran joined in, we survived then retaliated. This is not nearly over - but we don't even know what over means, or will mean. Once again foreign airlines have abandoned us.  It is almost impossible to describe the pall which hangs over the middle east - the anxiety, the depression, the fear, the sense of futility, of grim resignation.

This is a very short entry to wish everyone Hag Herut - A holiday of freedom.

That is my very first geranium which I planted last week. It opened for me this morning.

Follow up from yesterday's post

 Tonight I went to the protest in Tel Aviv. On my walk home from the bus stop, my sister called "have you heard the news?" We are on full alert - no school tomorrow, events have been cancelled, Jordan has closed their airspace, drones have been sent from Iran. They take 9 hours to get here, so there will only be alarms when they get really close.  They think they will go for military installations first.  Hezbollah may fire rockets from  Lebanon and that is a far shorter distance.  The army spokesman and all the top brass are telling us to listen to commands from the municipalities. They keep assuring us they have ways of defending us. What the hell else can they say? America and Biden at the helm are on full alert.

If nothiing else, Iran has won a psychological war - to say this is nervewracking is the mildest and most stupid thing I can say. I was nearly killed tonight in Tel Aviv by a young woman cyclist who went through the red light - I was crossing on green, and she stopped just seconds from running me over. "Sorry" she said. At least that.  Everyone's nerves are shattered.

What I am now going to do is have a cup of camomile tea and I am going to bed.  I do have a backpack ready, and we still have 90 seconds to get to the shelters.  That is quite a long time.

Prayers for the world, please.

Friday night, April 12 2024.

 188 days since the 7th of October.

Rockets and missiles in the north - kthe TV shows the names of the areas in orange headlines.  

Israel is ready, they say, for attacks from Iran, Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, Yemen.  They are giving us the length of time it takes for rockets, ballistic missiles, drones, etc. fired from each country, and what we should do. Go to shelters of course. "They" could attack or destroy our water system, electrical system, etc. etc. Of course all of this is in Hebrew and I don't even know the types of rockets and missiles in english.  This is not a calming situation.  This is not a pleasant Friday night.  Shabat shalom - really?  The talking heads engage on each channel, the retired generals speak, the head of securitiy speak, the army spokesman speaks.  Members of the government, Bibi? Ben Gvir, Rothman, Smotrich, - where are they? what do they have to say?  "Keep calm and carry on" - "We shall fight them etc". Where are those we need now?  Netanyahu is more scared of the reactions of Ben Gvir and Smotrich to that of the Iranians. What the fuck is going on?  God help us all.

Shabat shalom.

Things are Heating Up

Things are heating up, literally and figuratively. The outdoor thermometer I brought with me from the States shows 90 degrees fahrenheit which is about 30 degrees centigrade.  Hot in both systems. It is the season of change - and of chamsins.  Chamsin is the Arabic word for 50 - it is approximately 50 days a year that a fiercely dry and hot wind blows into the entire area from the Sahara.  It does not discriminate between regions or peoples - all regions of the middle east suffer.

Last night I attended the "anti government, elections now, bring back the hostages" demonstration in Tel Aviv. For a year, until October 7 there were protests and marches around the country against the proposed judicial reform and the end of democracy.  On that black Saturday everything, every system,  and everyone came to a crashing, stunning, horrifying halt.  The wonderful, brave, resilient, resourceful Israelis who had been active in the protests, turned their activism toward mobilizing and running the country as the government, those supposedly in charge, those responsible for the horror in which we now live, remained silent, and stopped doing anything. When they came to, instead of helping the army, bringing the hostages back, assisting the hundreds of refugees in the country - they have done nothing but strategise how they will win the next election, maintain their seats, feather their nests, enrich their coffers.  They have ignored the suffering, been rude to the army, militarized the police, broken ties with America, pushed Israel into isolation. Bibi who helped and encouraged Hamas, now wants to prolong the war - he cares about nothing but himself. And the people have had enough.

Hundreds of thousands are back protesting all around the country and outside the Knesset today - they will be in Jerusalem for three days. The religious refuse to be conscripted  - they want to be subsidised and to pray.  The prayers have not helped much.  Bibi promised them money - now we will see what happens. Things are not pretty and they are going to get uglier.  Maybe these days of heat and fury will herald a change.    MAYBE 

(Photos later)

The bus we went to says "choosing hostages" on the side.

Cockroach and Evolution

I do not like cockroaches. I have never liked cockroaches. I am not sure whether anyone has ever favoured these creatures of the night, but I am scared of them. I scream when I see one - I can't really kill them, but if I do by accident step on one the sight of brownish yellow blood revolts me. I read somewhere that if there is a nuclear war they will be the only things that survive. Good luck to the next incarnation that encounters them. 

I visited a friend in Texas, where everything really is way bigger than anywhere else. We were enjoying a quiet night in her comfortable living room in Fort Worth when a massive cockroach scurried too close for comfort. I screamed. Somehow, exhibiting a feat of extreme bravery, she got rid of this massive revolting thing.  It took more than a few margaritas to calm me down. A few days later we were in a Texan sized shoe store trying on Texas style boots. The tooled rhinestoned boots were way beyond my budget, and I wasn't sure how they would go down in Berkeley. What looks wonderful in  Texas should stay in Texas.  But I did try on a relatively modest pair of black leather boots - lovely they were. My friend would say, rudely, that I preened in front of the large mirror, looking at them.  I did not preen, but I did try them on and took some steps in them.  The saleslady was very helpful in her incomprehensible Texan brogue- "kin ah hip you," and so on. I asked her the price of the boots, and just as she began to tell me I saw a giant cockroach very close by, on its back.  As she said the price I gasped and shrieked "Oh My God," I shook and quivered. She said in a sotto voice, "they aren't that expensive," but I quivered and pointed at the giant roach on its back, its legs moving, and left the shop. Just a waterbug, she said, as I rushed out.  It is a fucking cockroach, it is NOT a waterbug.

Cut to Israel, February 2024.  Before October 7th I had joined a group called "Bereaved Families, Israeli and Palestinian."  Last week we had a zoom meeting to meet some of the most recent participants. I sat listening to the heart rending stories of everyone, but especially the most recent participants, all of whom had lost children or parents on October 7th.  I was riveted, looking at the screen and listening, when something made me turn around.  Next to my sofa, on its back, was a large brown cockroach.  It took every ounce of willpower not to scream - me screaming would have been the worst thing that could happen in this group of people who had gone through possibly the most traumatic events one can endure. My heart beat faster, I stifled the urge to scream, and, except for that brief look, kept my gaze on the screen. 

When the group ended I took my broom, dustpan, a roll of paper towels, and swept this thing into the dustpan and took it to my door to fling it into the wild beyond - BUT, it was gone from the dustpan. That thing was still alive and had escaped. Since then I have been looking.  But I am proud that I seem somehow to have evolved, and did not scream at the sight of this horrid creature of the night.  This, for me,  is evolution.

An Important Day

 Friday dawned cold and cloudy, but promised no rain after two rain filled weeks. I awoke earlier than my usual time as I was being picked up at 7.30 by a woman from a nearby village who had kindly offered to drive me to the junction where a bus was to pick us up. We also had to get military clearance as we were going up north.

This trip had been cancelled two weeks previously due to heavy rain and snow.

I signed up for "A Visit to Express Sympathy with Druze families whose sons had been killed in the present ongoing war."  - an unwieldy title that is shorter in Hebrew. I knew it would not be an easy day, but I felt it was important.

The bus picked us up from our designated spot near Netanya railway station at 8.00 am.  The bus was full - 50 people, men and women (mostly women.) Somewhere after Zichron Yaakov we were joined by a Druze professor, Dr. Rajah Faraj.  He was to be our guide and our liaison with the families. He is a Druze Professor of Middle East History and Educational Sociology.   Our Druze bus driver handled the narrow village streets and roads that twisted and turned and climbed and descended with skill and aplomb. It was a relief to me that I didn't have to be concerned about dangerous driving conditions, although some of the women sitting near me did gasp on each sharp turn,, of which there were many.

The Galilee after the rains is incredibly beautiful - mountainous, lush green, almond trees just starting to blossom, olive groves, stone houses on cobbled streets. I have written about this before, Israel is a beautiful country, and the geography is so varied, as is the flora, the vegetation, the climate. Its people are varied, different customs, different manners of worship, different clothes, different food - so fascinating, and so very very sad.  This land has been fought over, and fought in, and fought on, for centuries. 

We paid our respects to three families, in the Druze way of mourning.  We felt the commonality of losing children in wars.  Parents are parents, mothers are mothers, fathers are fathers.  We all grieve together and long for an end. The least we can do is hold each other, and this is what we did.

Nature

 I am struggling with a heading.  The blessing of nature, the indifference of nature?  The contrariness of nature?

On Tuesday I went to Emek Beit Shean with the birding group.  It was a cold, windy, rainy day, the kind I love.  The valley, about an hour and a half drive from where I live, in the center. It is the eastern end of the beautiful Jezreel Valley where I lived on the kibbutz, and is bounded by the Gilboa mountains, and the Jordan river.  At this time of the year, in Israel, Tu b'Shvat (we went just one day before)  which is the holiday of the new trees.  Schoolchildren go out planting trees, as does everyone wherever they are.  The mountains and the valley are covered in fields of emerald green, the spring flowers are beginning their brief and glorious display.  Red and white anemones, pink, mauve, and white cyclamen.  The citrus trees are loaded, there are carpets of wild mustard dotted with deep mauve lupine.

The birds, to my amazement seem to love this weather as much as I do. The fish ponds are full and the skies are full of the wonder and beauty of nature. 

BUT, we had all heard the terrible news that morning, 21 soldiers killed by a blast in Khan Yunis.  And yet, nature, oblivious, moves on and does what it should, when it should.  Fields of red poppies grown around Kibbutz Beeri, the scene of the October 7 massacre.   Us humans do terrible things to each other, but nature continues, through it all. It is changing because of climate change, but it will adapt, and continue to cause wonder.  It continues throughout droughts, floods, avalanches, - it survives, and will survive, even if we as a species do not.

And, as we were leaving, a rainbow.

                                            

 

Both Inspiring and Sombre

 Last night I attended the protest outside the Habima in Tel Aviv.  We are still at war, and these demonstrations have only recently restarted.  Even so, there were about 20,000 people who attended.  Many many thousands more demonstrated outside Bibi's house in Caesarea.  20,000 people - Israelis, stood silent for at least a minute in honour of those who have been massacred, murdered, raped, taken hostage, killed and wounded in the line of duty.  20,000 sombre people calling for elections to be held now. We do not want the messianic, self serving, narcisssistic, egotistical people who do not have anyone's interests, but their own, for even a minute longer.  It is because of them and their divisive corrupt 'leadership' that we are in this tragedy. We want the country to return to the moral standards and ethical standards we worked for, and died for. The people who spoke were those from the Otef (the kibbutzim and settlements near Gaza) - people whose children, parents, grandparents, babies, were slaughtered. People whose loved ones were taken hostages. People who were hostages that were killed in error by the Israeli Defence Forces. Mothers of soldiers who are fighting now.

And then we walked to the Hostage Square to hear sisters, parents, friends, speak.  106 days; Today 107, tomorrow 108 - we can count.  Please let the counting stop.

 

A Cold and Rainy Day

Today I went up to Shoresh, a community nestled in the hills of Jerusalem.  It was blustery, rainy, and FOGGY - reminding me  of the Bay Area.  Amongst some of the things I miss are the fog enshrouded bay and the gothic redwood groves.  I left knowing I would miss these vistas, but they are forever a part of me,  within me here and now. The perspective of space and place and time in which we carry out our lives is so linear, and compartmentalized,  but it is really not all packed into separate containers. Inside we carry our young selves, our present selves, our future selves, all co existing in a pool of place and time.

I can close my eyes and be in the bush in South Africa.  I am on the beach in Ramsgate and feel the hot golden beach sand burn my feet as I jump from towel to towel to the Indian ocean. I feel the waves crash down on me and carry me, laughing, to the shore. I smell that indescribable scent of a night along the northern California coast - an intoxicating mix of pine, smoke from wood cabins, redwoods, the tang of the delicately salted air from the Pacific.

Everything is here within me as I look at the TV and hear the opening statements of the trial against Israel in Den Haag.  I for one, am deeply saddened by the war and the countless (no, there is a definite count of Palestinian dead - 22,000) in Gaza, but why have no countries spoken about Hamas, and the horrors they perpetrate? Of the fact that Israel was attacked, pillaged, raped?  And the hostages?  My very being, with all that it contains, all the memories, the past and the present, cries out, but noone seems to hear.