FIRST PERSON: A view from Israel
When my mom asked my husband and me to write about our feelings and reactions to the events in the past week (June 3 – 9) in Israel (increased rocket and drone attacks by Hezbollah, raging fires across the Upper Galilee and the Golan Heights ignited by these attacks), our first reaction was “What’s the purpose? Our feelings haven’t changed since October 7th – we are still worried, angry, frustrated, and sad.”
Despite this initial reaction, I realized that writing these updates is our tiny contribution to explaining the reality we live in as internal refugees (my heart still sinks each time I say this out loud) during this war.
The fires last week came dangerously close to our kibbutz, Yiftah. Our Kita Konenot, a group of mostly 30- to 50-year-old men from the kibbutz with combat experience who are the first line of defense for the kibbutz (most Jewish cities and villages have these), firefighters from the Galilee Elyion municipality, and a few soldiers were able to prevent the fire from spreading to the houses in the kibbutz. Yet our orchard and vineyard were burnt – some of our family’s most beloved places in the kibbutz. It is where I run, where we bike, where the grandparents take the kids to spend an afternoon, where we go and pick fruit right off the trees. Several houses in Kiryat Shmona were not as lucky – the fires near the city destroyed several houses. Numerous more have been damaged by rockets, drones, and shrapnel. These pictures – blacken hills, damaged houses, cause my heart to break a little bit more each time.
The fires raised a reoccurring parenting issue for us – how much to tell the kids? At first, we were planning not to mention the fires at all – there was no damage, we (unfortunately) are not going back soon – why worry the kids? But slowly we realized that their friends may ask them about the fires. Even though the fires near Yiftah did not make it into the traditional news media, the images spread on social media. I had mothers from the Hod Hasharon community where we live ask how we are. If the moms were asking, the chances of children in my twins’ second-grade class knowing seemed likely. So, we decided to tell them, emphasizing that no houses were damaged thanks to the hard work of the Kita Konenot. My five year-old son’s reaction was “what about the trailers for the tractors? Are they ok?” My twins asked about the orchard.
Another feeling that my husband and I experience constantly is the heaviness of the situation through our work. It is the end of the school year, so schools and teachers are making decisions about next year. For most of Israel, the war doesn’t affect these decisions – you just continue as if it is a normal year. But for teachers and schools in the north, how can you do this if you don’t know where you will be or how many students will register or where these students will be? Many evacuated teachers, including my husband, have had to make difficult decisions to leave their school up north to provide stability for their families. Every single person from the north is faced with impossible decisions – if they are evacuated, where should they work or register their children in the fall? If they weren’t evacuated, should they leave anyway because of all the sirens and rocket fire? And don’t forget the many parents and significant others worried about their loved ones fighting in Gaza.
For me, I feel this heaviness, but also hope when speaking with the faculty of my college, Tel Hai. Again, each person is facing their own difficulties – those evacuated like myself but who have moved multiple times or who lack childcare, those with multiple children serving in Gaza, one who lost her son in Gaza last month, those who live in kibbutzim that weren’t evacuated but deal with sirens on a daily basis and worry about their children when they are at school. However, my colleagues want to provide our students with the best learning experience despite these challenges. And looking towards next year, with no return to our beloved campus on the horizon, my college is determined to locate and run an alternative campus a few times a week to provide students and lecturers the chance to meet face to face. But how can you plan a course schedule when you don’t know where you will teach or how many days will be face-to-face and much of your evacuated administrative staff is burnt out and facing a summer of no childcare in hotel rooms? These are the wicked problems facing not just our college. I hope I can muster and maintain the perspective of my dean and other colleagues who recognize the challenges but see the opportunity to build something new that will benefit the college and the region in the future.
To end, I’ll paint a picture of the juxtaposition of our current life. In the center, life continues as normal, with the war breaking into the consciousness only through news and social media. This weekend we took the children to a waterpark where we all had a blast. In the early afternoon, the release of the four hostages was announced over the loudspeaker, causing the crowd to cheer and clap. And then everyone continued playing in the water.
Elizabeth Dovrat is the daughter of Barbara Dudley, Jewish Community Relations Council chair. She occasionally writes for Jewish News on life in Israel with her family.