Two years ago this week, 300,000 Jews gathered in Tel Aviv's central Rabin Square to demand the cancellation of the expulsion from Gush Katif and northern Shomron.
Leaders of the Council for Jewish Communities in Judea, Samaria, and Gaza (Yesha) called upon Disengagement opponents to "head south on foot, by car, by any way possible. We will block the roads into Gush Katif with our bodies." Large maps flashed onto giant screens showed the routes to be taken in order to try to reach Gush Katif.
"Beatings from riot police, the horses of the police and the water cannons of the IDF will not stop us," one Yesha leader cried out. "We will be there! Come to Kissufim and lie down on the road and don't leave. Our objective is to arrive at Gush Katif, and to interfere with and impede the expulsion until there is either a referendum or new elections."
The day before, a quarter of a million people had gathered at the Western Wall (Kotel) to beseech the heavens to stop the Israeli government from forcefully removing thousands of its own loyal citizens from their homes and transferring thier properties to enemy control. Participants were backed up to the steps leading down to the Kotel plaza, and many others were not even able to get near the Old City.
It was just three days before Tisha B'Av - the day of fasting commemorating the destruction of the Holy Temples and others of the Jewish Nation's worst disasters. Yet another disaster was about to befall the chosen people.
At the same time, 100 kilometers to the south, a long-time resident of Ganei Tal in Gush Katif was experiencing her last days at home - and recording her feelings and experiences in a diary. Galit Yitzchaki, in her 20's, has shared the poignant document with Arutz-7, providing a historic account of extraordinary proportions detailing spiritual faith, national disappointment and personal anguish. Selected excerpts:(to be continued...)...Towards evening we return home to Ganei Tal. A large prayer service is taking place in our synagogue, parallel to the massive one going on at the Kotel, where it seems there are a quarter-million people - once again crying and praying, at a very emotional occasion.
Later, we saw on television the pictures from the Kotel, and we can't believe the tremendous amount of people who were there. The plaza was totally filled, and people said they stood around Jaffa St. and couldn't reach the Wall. G-d, please hear our prayers.
Kobi [my married brother] is getting ready to go home [outside Gush Katif], and will be taking Savta [Grandmother] too. We don't want her to stay here [for the actual expulsion] because it is very hard for her, and in general she thinks that we should pack up already and leave. Abba [Dad] wants me to pack up my room so that Kobi can take apart the cabinets, but I can't even think of such a thing. I discussed it with Ima [Mom], and she of course doesn't even want to hear of such an idea and tells me not to pack. I'm happy, because it is terribly hard for me to just close up my whole childhood into boxes.
Kobi took Abba's car and packed up all sorts of important things (silver, documents, etc.) and the stuff from Abba's office... Meanwhile, we're all glued to the radio and TV all the time, they broadcast non-stop from the Gush [Katif] and are documenting every step that goes on here. Our cell phones also don't stop ringing, all our friends are calling and sending text messages; everyone is worried and wants to help - even those who don't totally agree with us; it's really heartwarming.
The nights are hard, and I can't really rest or sleep. The days? They're going by too fast... I don't want the end to come!
Thursday, Aug. 11
... In the afternoon, I walk around Ganei Tal with my camera, which is always on me so that I can take pictures of everything. I take pictures of the house from every possible angle, every room, almost every cabinet; our amazingly beautiful synagogue from inside and out, the nurseries, the old culture hall in memory of Rachel Lobel, and the new sports gym, our grocery store with wonderful Avraham, the basketball court where we spent so much time as children, and even the bus stops where we used to wait every morning for the van to take us to school in N'vei Dekalim.
My uncle Shiz travels back and forth to work in Tel Aviv every day, and then comes back to sleep with us. The problem is that he has an entry permit only up until today, and he left for Tel Aviv this morning. We tried to have it extended until Shabbat, but we were told that there are too many guests in the Gush. We're all worried. We ask Abba to send a request for a reconsideration, and after many faxes and phone calls we finally receive a permit for him - because Abba said it's his brother and he needs him to help us pack. We all breathe a sigh of relief!
In the afternoon, Dvir and Efrat [my brother and his wife] arrive, and they're planning to stay until the end. Everyone joins in the hullabaloo, helping as much as they can. And then my cousin Talia's family say they want to come; her father feels that he has to be here, and somehow they manage to get an entry permit... and they tell us they're coming for Shabbat. Great, why not, another four people added to the gang, why not? The more, the merrier. OK, we have to prepare food for 20 people - not so simple, but it's fun. They soon arrive, bringing food with them, and we all start working. Not to mention that we also have to prepare an extra large meal for Shabbat in honor of the Tisha B'Av fast that begins Saturday night. There's a lot of work, but everyone pitches in and the atmosphere is very pleasant.
In addition, we have the Dolinsky family from Jerusalem who has put up a tent in our yard and is staying with us until the end...
At night, I go with Efrat and Devorit for a short trip around the Gush. We get to N'vei Dekalim, and at the entrance stands a nice soldier, who says to us, "I'm very sorry for what we are doing to you; I ask forgiveness." It chokes me up; it seems that not everyone has lost his heart.
We get to the town hall plaza, it's filled with people, mostly youths, some are sitting on the grass and singing, others are talking, and most are gathered for a talk with Rabbi Yaakov Ariel of Ramat Gan. Some nice young kids met us at the entrance to give us a "Note to Arrestees," what to do if you get arrested. Scary like anything!
We walk around the N'vei Dekalim center, very moved at the tremendous amount of people we see in every corner. Nice girls are standing at a makeshift booth selling food at token prices (cornflakes and milk, hot soup, etc.).
I walk around the stores, I see where Abba's office was, and I want to cry. All the stores are empty, everything is packed up and desolate - except for the pizza store, the only one still operating; it has never had so many customers as it has had in these past weeks.
From there we go to Shirat HaYam [a small community literally on the beach, where hundreds of people have gathered from around the country in tents]. We bring food to some friends, and we get to see our amazingly beautiful ocean. At night we return home, and thank G-d Shiz has already come back, bringing lots of food with him, more pizza for the children; a real abundance.
That night, Rabin Square has the largest demonstration ever in the history of the country, some half-million people protesting against the Disengagement. The Yesha Council leaders call on the people to start moving towards Kissufim and to block the whole area in order to disrupt the expulsion.
We try to draw encouragement from the rally, but we know that in a country where democracy is just another word, and its leaders are corrupt, even this gigantic protest won't make a difference. Once again, we're up until the middle of the night, connected to the TV and internet, searching for more information, a ray of hope, knowing that the rabbis have said it won't happen - but nothing. The only thing that encourages us is the tremendous amounts of people managing to sneak into the area, despite all the restrictions and checkpoints. What total dedication to the cause!