Two years ago today, August 15, was the first day Jews were no longer legally permitted to live in Gush Katif. It was two days before the beginning of their forcible eviction from their homes during Ariel Sharon's Disengagement of 2005. Barely anyone of the more than 8,000 Jews who lived there - and certainly none of those estimated by some as the same number of visitors and supporters - left on this date, however. Instead, they waited for the soldiers to come and personally distribute eviction orders.
In most cases, the youths of the various Jewish communities barricaded the gates and did not let the soldiers enter. In the town of Ganei Tal - where long-time resident Galit Yitzchaki was spending these last days writing down her experiences and impressions in her diary - many youths, and Galit herself, waited with great tension at the gate for the forces to arrive. Finally, at 3:30 AM, Galit left for home to get some much-needed sleep - into which she fell only after some more hours of tossing and turning.
Living for months under the threat of being thrown out of your home and community by one's own government and army, and watching the threat come inexorably closer and closer to actual implementation, took a tremendous toll on many of the residents.
Part One's excerpts of Galit's diary of these historic days can be read here, and Part Two - here. Part Three follows below:
Monday, Aug. 15
The day of expulsion has arrived. I wake up at 8:30 in the morning - there's a lot of noise and you can't really sleep - and try to hold myself up after another night of no sleep, but finally I break down and go back to sleep. This was too bad, because unfortunately this causes me to miss all the action...Today is the army's Operation "Hand to Brothers," two days during which we can leave voluntarily and the army will even help us pack and leave. But Wednesday, Aug. 17, whoever is still here will be subject to the forcible expulsion. They call it "with sensitivity and determination" - May G-d have mercy!
At 9 AM, the soldiers came to the gate and wanted to come in to give out the eviction orders. Immediately, everyone came out to stop them; Ima says, and the pictures show, that it was just an amazing sight. Our guys locked the gate and didn't let anyone in, and everyone from the yishuv [community], including our guests and vistors, prayed there and danced with Torah scrolls and sang, and the soldiers stood there totally helpless. Finally, they just gave up and left, and it was a great thing to see.
When I woke up, Shiz and I and a few others decided to go to Kfar Darom to buy some food; the store there is still running and they have a lot of goods, and we don't know how long we'll be here like this - maybe they'll put us in siege? So we go there, but the soldiers there have different orders and they actually don't let us in. We wait for a while in the car; it's hard to believe how they treat us, as if we're dangerous. I try to talk to one of the soldiers, but he just says, 'Without a permit you're not going in.' There's also tension because Shiz and Anat are not official residents, and can be thrown out on the spot. We give them my parents' ID numbers to remember by heart, and Anat wrote them down on a box of eggs so she won't forget. Finally, we buy what we need and get back OK.
Not everyone in the yishuv agrees with the gate-blocking approach. There are those who want to let the soldiers in to give them the eviction orders so that they can feel that they are being thrown out and not leaving on their own. This led to arguments among people, and one man even dared to yell at our 'visiting' youths that they have no right to block the gate. Abba of course got upset at him and yelled, and soon they just sent him home so he could calm down. The situation is very delicate and very unpleasant.
Finally, in order to ensure that there would not be a big split amongst us, it was decided that if the army comes back, they should be let in, and everyone will decide if they want to let them in their house or not.
But things developed a little differently. At 4 PM, the army came back, we all ran to the gate, which was locked of course, and people from the yishuv started to talk to the soldiers, trying to reach their hearts. They surrounded them and started singing "Ana B'choach" (Please, G-d, with the strength of Your right hand, free our nation from its bonds), and many of our neighbors were crying, saying Psalms, etc. The press was buzzing around the whole time, broadcasting from the scene, waiting for us in every corner. Shulamit Berger took a megaphone and started speaking very impressively to the soldiers. The scene was a very hard one. Again, the soldiers saw that they would not be able to get in, and they turned around and left. At one point, Druze MK Ayoub Kara arrived, with an orange ribbon on his shirt, and he gave a heart-searing speech, more Jewish than Jewish.
My legs hurt, the sun is beating down, my eyes are burning, we go home slightly encouraged to rest and eat; an army marches on its stomach, after all.
10 PM - We go to the Culture Club hall for an evening of song organized by the Tubi family, to relax the tensions a little bit... Assaf plays the organ, Ezer on the guitar, so much fun, there's a real atmosphere of unity. But could it be that this is our last community cultural event? Only G-d knows. Meanwhile, we sit here singing until 1 AM, enjoying every moment.
I get home and sit down to write until 3 in the morning, I just have to get it all out; my eyes are dying to close, but the heart needs to get out everything that's going on. Once again, a night with barely any sleep.
Tuesday, Aug. 16
I wake up to a day where things don't look too good... Apparently, it's starting to have its influence on me both physically and emotionally. I don't feel so well. Ima comes to see what's with me, and suddenly everything erupts within me and I collapse. Then Abba comes to see what's going on, and I'm crying and not understanding: "Why, G-d? Why???" Aba and Ima try to encourage me, saying that whatever has to be, that's what will be, and that we must be strong - but it doesn't help so much...It really seems that a miracle does not appear to be on the horizon, and the evil ones are determined to carry out their cruel mission. To my sorrow, I've lost hope. We decide that we have to start packing quickly, because who knows when they'll throw us out, and maybe we won't be able to pack everything. Sadly enough, it looks like there's no choice, the die has been cast and there's no way back... We still try to have faith until the last second, because our Sages say that even if a sharp sword is on one's neck, he should not despair of Divine mercy, but still, we can't just be apathetic...
I try to rest a little and calm down. I have no appetite or strength to do anything; just this feeling of total lethargy.
Shiz and I decide: We will fill the house with graffiti; let the walls, too, absorb some of what is in our hearts, and when the expellers come to throw us out, let them see with their own eyes what our hearts are feeling.
On the big wall in the living room I wrote, "We will not forget and we will not forgive. Yitzchaki Family, Ganei Tal, may it be rebuilt."
On a second wall, I wrote, "[Arik] Sharon, we hope you suffer the same hell that we are experiencing."
On the wall where our beautiful breakfront cabinet had stood, Shiz wrote, "Here was a cabinet of Torah books. G-d, why have You abandoned us?" and, "I believe with perfect faith in the coming of the Messiah."
Outside, on the entrance wall to our home I wrote, "Our parents and grandparents were expelled by the Germans, and we - by Jews. We will not go like sheep to the slaughter. The Nation of Israel lives!"
Suddenly, Ima came into the house, crying and weeping when she saw what we had done. "Why? Why? Why?"
At 9 PM, the movers finally arrive, many hours late. Instead of the eight workers they promised us, we get three boys, starving and dead tired after two nights of no sleep and lots of work... Luckily we also have a lot of people at home who can help, and suddenly another 5 great yeshiva boys show up from somewhere and they help us pack and load up; they work harder than the movers. At 2 AM, we're still not half-finished, and everyone is dead tired and there's barely any place to sleep. Then comes the news that Ganei Tal is going to be evacuated tomorrow. The tensions keep getting stronger...
It looks like it will be our last night in our house...
Wednesday, Aug. 17
The day of the expulsion has arrived. Who would have believed it?
(to be continued...)