Four buses went from the Golan to Gush Katif last month. A little over one hundred people went to show solidarity, to act on the demonstrations and protests we have made across Israel. People from Avnei Eitan, Katzrin, Chispin and Nov. We brought small gifts with us. We finally got to help our brethren, instead of just talking about it.
When people ask why we would go into the line of fire to show support, we answer, "Our brothers are living there constantly in the line of fire, and we are afraid to go there for a day?" The rumor I overheard on the way to Gush Katif is that it was a group of people from Chispin who inspired the Gaza settlers to fight the government's decree.
Gush Katif is like a fortress, with bases spanning its entirety. It looks almost like those old, grainy pictures from the wars of Israel's birth. Imagine a war that ended for the rest of the land, but that continues here.
We arrive at a dairy farm and stand at the fence of one of the settlements. We stare across a panorama of minarets and dirty Arab hovels. Our guide points: "Thousands of Arabs live there, at the border of Egypt. Every night, Kassam rockets are fired into this settlement. Just last night, another six fell here."
A soldier, Golani by his markings, welcomes us and talks to us about defending Gush Katif. They arrested two terrorists the night before, crossing the fence. Every night, the soldiers suffer through hell, a twelve-hour period lit by lasers, spotlights and NVGs, where every minute could bring another ambush. He welcomed us and joked that he hoped this part of the land was still in Israeli hands when we are in the army - so that we could actually get a chance to fight for our country. On a more serious note, he added, "This is a real war, something the rest of the country ignores or is unaware of."
Thirty seconds. That is the amount of time it takes when the Arabs start shooting to get to the concrete barricades that shield the Israelis from fire.
On the way in, we felt a thrill of fear, because the armored bus we were going to be transported in wasn't where it should have been. We rode in unprotected buses, afraid of every bang and loud noise.
A pregnant woman and her four children go to the government to plead for mercy. Arabs ambush them and kill them all. To be sure, they fire six more rounds. One in the head of each child, one in the head of the mother, and one in the mother's stomach. In one day, a husband and father becomes a barren widower.
I stood in a playground. Amongst all the toys and jungle gyms lay dozens of pieces of Kassam rockets.
People here are strong. We talked with them and gave them gifts. Some are joyful, others bitter and cynical. It takes a massive amount of strength to stay, but I truly admire and am in awe of the heroes, the people who stay cheerful and optimistic in the face of evil.
At a meeting with members of the community, a request was made by a settler to have a place to stay for Shabbat outside of Gush Katif every now and then. The leader of Nov stood and said that every Shabbat they wanted, as many people that they wanted could come to leave their sadness and pain for awhile.
People here are so strong. To meet them was more powerful an experience than any tour, any rally, any video. Two little girls in kindergarten are giggling, running around. A little boy leans off a bench, dimples in his cheeks, as he says "Shalom" to the visitors in a high-pitched voice. The women sit and chat back and forth as normally as if they were in a peaceful land. A man sits in the Magen David Adom van and talks about Ariel Sharon. Another is painting his house and yells down jokingly, "Where's the money from?" when we bring gifts. They continue to build, knowing that they will stay. These touched me deeply, because you see people like yourself, who live under the threat of death and expulsion.
There are graves here - people slain taking the land back and people slain living in it. Now, everyone is threatened that they must leave these memories of the people they love, and tell their spirits that they died for nothing.
But miracles happen here. We saw a house that terrorists had infiltrated. They had tossed in six grenades - and only one exploded. Thousands of rockets are fired into the communities here, but they have very few fatalities.
Financially, according to the citizens of the settlements, the profits generated in Gush Katif are rising. Factories are co-owned and profits shared by all the communities. However, people and businesses are now afraid to deal with them or form partnerships, because they don't know how long the Gaza businesses will last. The funding for the agricultural and economical development of Gush Katif was cut to force them out. This really hit home as we drove past rows and rows of empty, deserted greenhouses.
Sharon has offered 1,500,000 shekels to whoever voluntarily leaves their homes. Otherwise, everyone who remains will be arrested, no matter who they are. One and a half million shekels is almost US$400,000; more than enough to build a much larger, newer house in a safer area of Israel. As far as I know, only fifteen families have chosen to leave.
What madness is this, that the man who took the land and built the settlements is now the one who wants to give it back? The offer is completely one-sided, without treaties or truces asked for, with the land remaining as it is. There is a massive synagogue built in the shape of a Magen David. Can you see this building in the hands of the Arabs? Furthermore, if you look at maps of Israel, you see that all of a sudden, with the surrender of Gaza, central Israel can be hit by rockets.
After my trip, I came out with a mixture of emotions: outrage at the government, sadness at the losses past and present, pride and awe because of the people and their spirit and strength. I stand in my yard in the Golan, safe from death and displacement, hoping the decree is reversed. I wish I could stand in Gush Katif and fight side by side with them.
Please, my brothers and sisters the world over, pray for Gush Katif. Try to come to our land so we can, by force of numbers, turn the tide of evil. Join me in prayer, and may the light of Moshiach redeem us in our time of need.
"Am hanetzach lo mifached miderech arukah." (The eternal people is not frightened by a long journey.)
When people ask why we would go into the line of fire to show support, we answer, "Our brothers are living there constantly in the line of fire, and we are afraid to go there for a day?" The rumor I overheard on the way to Gush Katif is that it was a group of people from Chispin who inspired the Gaza settlers to fight the government's decree.
Gush Katif is like a fortress, with bases spanning its entirety. It looks almost like those old, grainy pictures from the wars of Israel's birth. Imagine a war that ended for the rest of the land, but that continues here.
We arrive at a dairy farm and stand at the fence of one of the settlements. We stare across a panorama of minarets and dirty Arab hovels. Our guide points: "Thousands of Arabs live there, at the border of Egypt. Every night, Kassam rockets are fired into this settlement. Just last night, another six fell here."
A soldier, Golani by his markings, welcomes us and talks to us about defending Gush Katif. They arrested two terrorists the night before, crossing the fence. Every night, the soldiers suffer through hell, a twelve-hour period lit by lasers, spotlights and NVGs, where every minute could bring another ambush. He welcomed us and joked that he hoped this part of the land was still in Israeli hands when we are in the army - so that we could actually get a chance to fight for our country. On a more serious note, he added, "This is a real war, something the rest of the country ignores or is unaware of."
Thirty seconds. That is the amount of time it takes when the Arabs start shooting to get to the concrete barricades that shield the Israelis from fire.
On the way in, we felt a thrill of fear, because the armored bus we were going to be transported in wasn't where it should have been. We rode in unprotected buses, afraid of every bang and loud noise.
A pregnant woman and her four children go to the government to plead for mercy. Arabs ambush them and kill them all. To be sure, they fire six more rounds. One in the head of each child, one in the head of the mother, and one in the mother's stomach. In one day, a husband and father becomes a barren widower.
I stood in a playground. Amongst all the toys and jungle gyms lay dozens of pieces of Kassam rockets.
People here are strong. We talked with them and gave them gifts. Some are joyful, others bitter and cynical. It takes a massive amount of strength to stay, but I truly admire and am in awe of the heroes, the people who stay cheerful and optimistic in the face of evil.
At a meeting with members of the community, a request was made by a settler to have a place to stay for Shabbat outside of Gush Katif every now and then. The leader of Nov stood and said that every Shabbat they wanted, as many people that they wanted could come to leave their sadness and pain for awhile.
People here are so strong. To meet them was more powerful an experience than any tour, any rally, any video. Two little girls in kindergarten are giggling, running around. A little boy leans off a bench, dimples in his cheeks, as he says "Shalom" to the visitors in a high-pitched voice. The women sit and chat back and forth as normally as if they were in a peaceful land. A man sits in the Magen David Adom van and talks about Ariel Sharon. Another is painting his house and yells down jokingly, "Where's the money from?" when we bring gifts. They continue to build, knowing that they will stay. These touched me deeply, because you see people like yourself, who live under the threat of death and expulsion.
There are graves here - people slain taking the land back and people slain living in it. Now, everyone is threatened that they must leave these memories of the people they love, and tell their spirits that they died for nothing.
But miracles happen here. We saw a house that terrorists had infiltrated. They had tossed in six grenades - and only one exploded. Thousands of rockets are fired into the communities here, but they have very few fatalities.
Financially, according to the citizens of the settlements, the profits generated in Gush Katif are rising. Factories are co-owned and profits shared by all the communities. However, people and businesses are now afraid to deal with them or form partnerships, because they don't know how long the Gaza businesses will last. The funding for the agricultural and economical development of Gush Katif was cut to force them out. This really hit home as we drove past rows and rows of empty, deserted greenhouses.
Sharon has offered 1,500,000 shekels to whoever voluntarily leaves their homes. Otherwise, everyone who remains will be arrested, no matter who they are. One and a half million shekels is almost US$400,000; more than enough to build a much larger, newer house in a safer area of Israel. As far as I know, only fifteen families have chosen to leave.
What madness is this, that the man who took the land and built the settlements is now the one who wants to give it back? The offer is completely one-sided, without treaties or truces asked for, with the land remaining as it is. There is a massive synagogue built in the shape of a Magen David. Can you see this building in the hands of the Arabs? Furthermore, if you look at maps of Israel, you see that all of a sudden, with the surrender of Gaza, central Israel can be hit by rockets.
After my trip, I came out with a mixture of emotions: outrage at the government, sadness at the losses past and present, pride and awe because of the people and their spirit and strength. I stand in my yard in the Golan, safe from death and displacement, hoping the decree is reversed. I wish I could stand in Gush Katif and fight side by side with them.
Please, my brothers and sisters the world over, pray for Gush Katif. Try to come to our land so we can, by force of numbers, turn the tide of evil. Join me in prayer, and may the light of Moshiach redeem us in our time of need.
"Am hanetzach lo mifached miderech arukah." (The eternal people is not frightened by a long journey.)