It was Shavua Hasefer HaIvri - Hebrew Book Week - an annual Israel book fest, which draws Israelis from all walks of life. They come in droves with their babies and children to view, touch, thumb through the thousands of new, and tens-of-thousands of old, books published in Israel. All the major publishers, and most of the minor ones, put their books on display in cities and settlements across the land at discount prices. If you didn't buy a book all year long, you'll buy one now.



Other book activities take place this week, as well. Authors are at a premium. Invited to speak across the length and breadth of the land in schools, community centers, and at public affairs, they are the week's stars par excellance. As an author of modest fame, I too received several invitations to speak. I accepted one with particular enthusiasm, at Kfar Darom, a frequently reported upon and in-the-news settlement in the Gaza Strip.



The recipient of countless mortar shells from the city of Gaza, Kfar Darom is a beautiful, burgeoning settlement of fifty families and two hundred children. (Their children used to attend the regional Katif school until, after numerous attacks on school buses, the army decided the roads were too dangerous and Kfar Darom was asked to set up its own local school.) Heavily guarded by the Israeli army (stationed to protect them, the adjoining main road in the Katif Area, the many Israeli kibbutzim and moshavim nearby, and to keep watch on Gaza), Kfar Darom is the target of unending Arab attacks. When making the arrangements on the phone, I half-jokingly told the librarian, "Try and keep things quiet the day I come." She laughed.



In honor of the occasion, I wrote a new Savta Simcha story [Savta Simcha is one of Yaffa Ganz's most popular characters; a sort of elderly, Jewish Mary Poppins. - Ed. note]. Savta Simcha took a trip south to Katif for a quiet vacation on the beach when she and her young charges were greeted by a shower of mortar shells. There was no shelter near the beach (actually, no shelling has ever reached the beach), so, in desperation, Savta Simcha pops open her ever-present long black umbrella and herds the children under it's not overly-protective shade. Presto! For whatever incomprehensible reason (Savta Simcha seems to have an extended measure of Divine Protection...) the shelling stops as suddenly as it began. The story had more twists and turns than I've described here (plus a good measure of laughs, and a strong dose of blessing), but basically, all emerge from under the umbrella slightly sandy and smelling of smoke, but none the worse for wear.



It was a story which children under constant attack could easily identify with and it was, in fact, highly appropriate. That morning, three mortar shells had fallen on Kfar Darom and that afternoon, after I left, two more came raining down. I will admit, I was a bit shook up.



The children had prepared a wonderful exhibit of stories for me, based on the title of one of my books. Despite having identical titles, their stories spread far and wide, although an inordinate amount of soldiers, tanks, fences and military were evident. Considering the situation they find themselves in, that was to be expected. But there was no hatred, no violence, no cruelty. There was much love, concern, a sense of unity and shared purpose. How do you raise children with such values, I wondered, amidst such a setting of danger and destruction?



The settlement itself was blossoming. Small houses were being built (financed by the owners' own funds, not the government's), small industries flourished, gardens bloomed, laundry flapped in the wind, mothers pushed babies in carriages. A library, grocery store, friendly "hi's" and "'bye's" were abundant. It was so peaceful and beautiful and pastoral. Only the tanks and barbed wire outside the settlement and the soldiers going to and from the grocery store with their Cokes and packages of cookies reminded you that, as pastoral as things looked, hatred and death stalked the Jews who dared to live here.



In all of Arab Gaza there isn't one single community like this simple, unsophisticated, hard-working settlement of Kfar Darom (or, for that matter, like any of the other Jewish settlements in the area). ?Why not?? one might ask. Are the Arabs incapable of creating a loving, functional, healthy environment in which to live? All they need are a few families willing to work together. There's no lack of space. One truly wonders.



While I was speaking to the children, one little boy raised his hand and said, "You once sent us books. Do you remember?" Red lights flashed in my mind. If I sent them books, that meant the family had been hit by a terrorist attack. Sure enough, his father had been killed. Another child said, "You sent us books, too." Sure enough. Two young sisters were involved, legs amputated on one, the second seriously injured. An eighth-grade girl and a friend had both lost their mothers in a nighttime attack.



I reeled. I knew this community had been badly hurt, but how do you deal with a group of children where so many are orphaned or injured or one of their parents or family members has been hurt or killed? How do you help them keep a sense of balance, of normality? How do you help them accept, study, learn, love? I don't know the answers, but someone must. I only saw the results.



One hundred lovely Jewish kids, a threat to no one, living in their own country on land previously occupied by no one at all. They were definitely overly serious for their age, it's true; but they laughed and played and looked as normal as any other group their age. And their young, wonderful parents continue to work, build, believe and have babies, whom they raise to be good, faithful, loving people. Jews who love the Torah, the land of their fathers, and their Father in Heaven. Jews who, despite everything, do not hate. Jews who will raise the sword when necessary, but who live by the Book. May G-d give them all strength, make them multiply and bless the work of their hands.

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Yaffa Ganz is the author of forty titles for Jewish children, two books of essays for adults and many articles of Jewish interest in publications worldwide. Her works include the Savta Simcha series and Sand and Stars - A Jewish Journey Through Time (a two- volume Jewish history for teenagers).

Copyright 2003 Ganz