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Worrying of Israel, Rehovot - Half a World Away
Ayelet Shavit and her husband Ran of Davis show their children photos of their grandparents in Israel. The 3-year-old twins are Tal and Ofri; Ayelet is holding 4-week-old Rotem. Ayelet, who grew up in Israel, moved to Davis 10 months ago to complete her postdoctorate in philosophy.
As fighting rages between Israel and the Hezbollah militant group in Lebanon, several Davis residents worry about the safety of family members living in Israel.
Shulamit Glazerman’s sister, Susan Gabel, lives with her husband and their 10 children in the northern mountaintop town of Safed, about 7 miles from the country’s border with Lebanon. When fighting started July 12, the town was targeted.
“They started to come under rocketfire by Hezbollah,” Glazerman said.
A rocket landed in a neighbor’s front yard. The windows were blown out of Gabel’s downstairs neighbor’s apartment. And they found shrapnel in a kiddie pool on their deck. Rocks and debris from a nearby strike showered down on one of her nephews as he made his way home from the synagogue.
Glazerman read that about 200 people from this town alone have been treated for shock. Some fled the town, but at first, Gabel decided not to leave because it would be difficult with so many children.
They stayed for three days. Then, Glazerman recalled her sister saying, “We can’t live like this.”
In the last day they were home, Gabel and her family could use only the interior part of their apartment, staying away from outer walls for fear of being injured by the blasts.
“They just had to get out,” Glazerman said. “I was very concerned for their safety.”
They finally escaped to a suburb of Jerusalem and found an apartment to rent for a few weeks from a family vacationing in the United States. Gabel’s children aren’t in school. Their lives are in limbo. The family is watching the news and hoping the rocketfire will cease, so they can return home.
“The whole situation is very upsetting,” Glazerman said. “It’s upsetting what Hezbollah is doing. Hezbollah wants to destroy Israel. They’re targeting civilian populations intentionally. And it’s upsetting that Israel is having to respond. But they have to fight them.
“They don’t have a choice because they have to defend themselves and no other entity in the world has the ability or the will to fight Hezbollah. They can’t let this go on.”
Glazerman’s family is planning to go to Israel in about a month and stay for a year while her husband, Jay Rosenheim, an entomology professor at UC Davis, is on sabbatical. They are watching the news closely, trying to decide whether to go ahead with the trip to Rehovot, a city about 20 minutes southeast of Tel Aviv.
“I’m not expecting that it (the fighting) would stop, but we’re hoping that things would stabilize and not escalate,” Glazerman said.
‘Doesn’t leave my mind’
Ayelet Shavit, who grew up in Israel, moved to Davis 10 months ago to complete her postdoctorate in philosophy at UCD. Her parents, grandfather and nephew are still there.
Shavit constantly worries about the safety of her family in Israel. She talks with them by video phone on the computer. In a 20-minute conversation, she hears three or four bombs exploding and her parents’ house shakes. They are OK, but then she hangs up and begins worrying that maybe a bomb is falling on them at this moment or the next.
“It doesn’t leave my mind. It’s there all the time,” Shavit said.
Almost two weeks ago, a bomb landed at the entrance to her nephew’s home in Maayan Baruch, a kibbutz, which is a kind of commune. Luckily, he was visiting his parents at the time, but the house was destroyed.
“It’s just all ruins. It’s frustrating sitting here, hearing the news. It’s just a horrible feeling,” Shavit said of being far away from family and not able to help or do anything.
Shavit knows what it’s like to live with terrorist bombings. She grew up in the kibbutz of Kfar Giladi, a mile from Lebanon. While her community was usually quite safe, terrorist bombing was a constant threat.
“It’s part of your life,” Shavit said. “Once every few months it would happen.
“You get used to it. You just grow up knowing when the whistle comes, you know exactly how many seconds you have to run,” Shavit said. “You learn from the whistle, what kind of bomb or rocket it is.”
Shavit said bomb shelters were located every 50 yards or so around her kibbutz, about the size of the UCD campus. Once, a bomb fell next to her parents’ house. Another time, a bomb fell on top of the bomb shelter in which Shavit was sitting. The shelter shook, but no one was hurt inside.
Even more than the bombing, she was afraid of kidnapping by the terrorists. When she was 5 or 6 years old, a militant group tried to steal some babies from a neighboring kibbutz. A baby and an adult were killed in the ordeal.
Not long after, a group was captured at the border with maps of Shavit’s kibbutz. A circle was drawn around one of the classrooms. It was believed they planned to kidnap children from her kibbutz.
After these incidents, the children were no longer allowed to sleep together in a community nursery room as had been the practice. Instead, they stayed with their parents.
Deep-seated fears
As she grew up, Shavit feared being taken hostage by a terrorist group.
“Wherever I went, I looked for a place to hide. What would happen if he (a terrorist) came now,” Shavit said. Even in Davis, Shavit finds herself looking for a hiding place or escape route in every room she enters.
Shavit watches the news about the current fighting and asks herself, “why?”
“No one wants this war. We don’t want it. I’m sure the Lebanese don’t want it. It’s just so sad,” Shavit said of civilians being killed on both sides.
Shavit is thankful that her three sons — 3-year-old twins and a 1-month-old — are safe here rather than in the war zone.
“I’m happy that my kids are not going through what I went through, but I’m also sad that they’re away from family through all this,” Shavit said.
She plans to stay in Davis with her husband and children for another 18 months and then return to Israel when the situation is hopefully improved.
“I still do have hope. It’s a bad time now, but I’m sure it won’t last. It’s too bad to last. Too many are dying and suffering for this to go on,” Shavit said.
“I just hope for better days. I hope we Israelis and Arabs won’t lose hope that something better will happen,” Shavit said, adding that her greatest fear is that both sides will give up on dreams of peace and allow extremists to control their lives.
Source: Sharon Stello. Worrying, half a world away. Davis Enterprise .net (3 August 2006) [Fulltext]
As fighting rages between Israel and the Hezbollah militant group in Lebanon, several Davis residents worry about the safety of family members living in Israel.
Shulamit Glazerman’s sister, Susan Gabel, lives with her husband and their 10 children in the northern mountaintop town of Safed, about 7 miles from the country’s border with Lebanon. When fighting started July 12, the town was targeted.
“They started to come under rocketfire by Hezbollah,” Glazerman said.
A rocket landed in a neighbor’s front yard. The windows were blown out of Gabel’s downstairs neighbor’s apartment. And they found shrapnel in a kiddie pool on their deck. Rocks and debris from a nearby strike showered down on one of her nephews as he made his way home from the synagogue.
Glazerman read that about 200 people from this town alone have been treated for shock. Some fled the town, but at first, Gabel decided not to leave because it would be difficult with so many children.
They stayed for three days. Then, Glazerman recalled her sister saying, “We can’t live like this.”
In the last day they were home, Gabel and her family could use only the interior part of their apartment, staying away from outer walls for fear of being injured by the blasts.
“They just had to get out,” Glazerman said. “I was very concerned for their safety.”
They finally escaped to a suburb of Jerusalem and found an apartment to rent for a few weeks from a family vacationing in the United States. Gabel’s children aren’t in school. Their lives are in limbo. The family is watching the news and hoping the rocketfire will cease, so they can return home.
“The whole situation is very upsetting,” Glazerman said. “It’s upsetting what Hezbollah is doing. Hezbollah wants to destroy Israel. They’re targeting civilian populations intentionally. And it’s upsetting that Israel is having to respond. But they have to fight them.
“They don’t have a choice because they have to defend themselves and no other entity in the world has the ability or the will to fight Hezbollah. They can’t let this go on.”
Glazerman’s family is planning to go to Israel in about a month and stay for a year while her husband, Jay Rosenheim, an entomology professor at UC Davis, is on sabbatical. They are watching the news closely, trying to decide whether to go ahead with the trip to Rehovot, a city about 20 minutes southeast of Tel Aviv.
“I’m not expecting that it (the fighting) would stop, but we’re hoping that things would stabilize and not escalate,” Glazerman said.
‘Doesn’t leave my mind’
Ayelet Shavit, who grew up in Israel, moved to Davis 10 months ago to complete her postdoctorate in philosophy at UCD. Her parents, grandfather and nephew are still there.
Shavit constantly worries about the safety of her family in Israel. She talks with them by video phone on the computer. In a 20-minute conversation, she hears three or four bombs exploding and her parents’ house shakes. They are OK, but then she hangs up and begins worrying that maybe a bomb is falling on them at this moment or the next.
“It doesn’t leave my mind. It’s there all the time,” Shavit said.
Almost two weeks ago, a bomb landed at the entrance to her nephew’s home in Maayan Baruch, a kibbutz, which is a kind of commune. Luckily, he was visiting his parents at the time, but the house was destroyed.
“It’s just all ruins. It’s frustrating sitting here, hearing the news. It’s just a horrible feeling,” Shavit said of being far away from family and not able to help or do anything.
Shavit knows what it’s like to live with terrorist bombings. She grew up in the kibbutz of Kfar Giladi, a mile from Lebanon. While her community was usually quite safe, terrorist bombing was a constant threat.
“It’s part of your life,” Shavit said. “Once every few months it would happen.
“You get used to it. You just grow up knowing when the whistle comes, you know exactly how many seconds you have to run,” Shavit said. “You learn from the whistle, what kind of bomb or rocket it is.”
Shavit said bomb shelters were located every 50 yards or so around her kibbutz, about the size of the UCD campus. Once, a bomb fell next to her parents’ house. Another time, a bomb fell on top of the bomb shelter in which Shavit was sitting. The shelter shook, but no one was hurt inside.
Even more than the bombing, she was afraid of kidnapping by the terrorists. When she was 5 or 6 years old, a militant group tried to steal some babies from a neighboring kibbutz. A baby and an adult were killed in the ordeal.
Not long after, a group was captured at the border with maps of Shavit’s kibbutz. A circle was drawn around one of the classrooms. It was believed they planned to kidnap children from her kibbutz.
After these incidents, the children were no longer allowed to sleep together in a community nursery room as had been the practice. Instead, they stayed with their parents.
Deep-seated fears
As she grew up, Shavit feared being taken hostage by a terrorist group.
“Wherever I went, I looked for a place to hide. What would happen if he (a terrorist) came now,” Shavit said. Even in Davis, Shavit finds herself looking for a hiding place or escape route in every room she enters.
Shavit watches the news about the current fighting and asks herself, “why?”
“No one wants this war. We don’t want it. I’m sure the Lebanese don’t want it. It’s just so sad,” Shavit said of civilians being killed on both sides.
Shavit is thankful that her three sons — 3-year-old twins and a 1-month-old — are safe here rather than in the war zone.
“I’m happy that my kids are not going through what I went through, but I’m also sad that they’re away from family through all this,” Shavit said.
She plans to stay in Davis with her husband and children for another 18 months and then return to Israel when the situation is hopefully improved.
“I still do have hope. It’s a bad time now, but I’m sure it won’t last. It’s too bad to last. Too many are dying and suffering for this to go on,” Shavit said.
“I just hope for better days. I hope we Israelis and Arabs won’t lose hope that something better will happen,” Shavit said, adding that her greatest fear is that both sides will give up on dreams of peace and allow extremists to control their lives.
Source: Sharon Stello. Worrying, half a world away. Davis Enterprise .net (3 August 2006) [Fulltext]
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