Security in Perspective

Security is most peculiar topic of discussion in the Israeli vernacular I have yet experienced. On the one hand, it lingers as an indisputable concern: Israel, though smaller than the state of New Jersey, manages to make international headlines almost daily due to shifting aggressions and is the only country I can think of with enemies (explicit and latent) surrounding all borders and within its own territory. On the other hand, this has long been the case, and no native Israeli can recall a time when their country was not under imminent threat of some attack. Because danger is such an inseparable part of daily existence, security matters in public conversation are not as gravely dreaded as one might expect. Bad omens in the news are met with understanding-yet-unimpressed refute. Perhaps some examples might better illustrate what I’m trying to say:

Two weeks ago, a rocket struck the base at Ashqelon, our closest coastal neighbor. That same day, one of my friends at the Merkaz invited me swimming. “Are you seriously still going?” I asked. “Of course we’re going,” he said, “There’s a beach in Ashqelon, isn’t there?”

Last week at the bazaar, my friend had a realization as we searched for garlic cloves.
“It’s kind of weird being here, isn’t it?”“What?”
“Well, a few days ago they caught a man trying to escape from Gaza with bombs. He said he was going to blow up a public place in Be’er Sheva. I guess this would be it.”
“Oh. Yeah. Good thing they caught him. Mind if I stop and get tomatoes?”

In ulpan a few days ago, our class froze when we heard a loud explosion accompanied by the ground rumbling beneath us. The teacher continued, obviously un-phased by the interruption. The rest of us glanced around with nervous curiosity. “Should we go to the bomb shelter?” “No,” she replied. “We study Hebrew.” We sank back into our chairs, pretending to concentrate on the lesson as we tossed all possibilities around in our minds. Class proceeded as normal.
[Footnote: Someone informed us later that the sound was not actually a bomb, but a harmless sonic boom. (Who knew those existed outside of Mortal Kombat?) Supposedly, the rumble occurs when the Air Force jets break the sound barrier. It would have been nice for someone to have politely alerted us beforehand.]

By far the most urgent national security problem, however, concerns the almost daily Qassam rocket attacks launched on the town of Sderot, near the Gaza border. Around the day we began ulpan, a rocket hit beside a kindergarten class. An enormous portion of the town has been treated for PTSD, and much of the population is too afraid to leave their houses. In a few days, I will be joining a collective of students from around the country to help rebuild the community. We’re going to tutor kids, paint rocket shields, and generally beautify the town in any way we can to make daily life more pleasant and show national solidarity. I expect some good stories to come of it, so I’ll post an update when it’s over.

The reason I mention all these things is not to give the impression that Israel is a dangerous place, nor that I’m suicidal for being here. I simply want to emphasize the extent to which living here requires a logical outlook and a sense of humor. M16s are as common an accessory as backpacks. Every few days, something somewhere blows up or gets shot. But to worry too much about such things would be futile and irrational. After all, the number of deaths by terrorism still pales in comparison to the number of lives claimed by car accidents, yet no one thinks twice before going for a drive. Sure some hint of danger is close, but if it’s not close enough to duck, then it’s not close enough to panic. And if I wanted to live in a box, I would have gone to Kenosha.

A Foreigner Among Foreigners

The longer I stay here, the more I realize that I really, really like this living situation. This is our first weekend at the Merkaz, and all but five people in our group (myself included) left Be’er Sheva for beachier accommodations. As a result, my wanderings this evening have resulted in some very interesting friendships. I met a brilliant tetra-lingual Indian family living down the hall from me who immigrated here ten months ago. They came to Israel because they could not sustain themselves economically elsewhere. The father died a few months ago from poor medical treatment, so it is difficult for them to make ends meat even here at the center. The mother, Shimba, has promised to cook us Indian food for Shabbat dinner one day.

Later on, I managed to get into a comical-then-heated argument with a Uruguayan/American and a Russian about the distinctions between Palestinian government and Palestinian people. The debate somehow shifted to King Solomon and the Queen of Sheeba, and I went home with some bar recommendations and an offer for Russian lessons. This absorption center is a truly fascinating place. It is a uniquely Israeli concept. Nowhere else in the world are there such internationally integrated facilities that offer a complete linguistic/cultural introduction for new immigrants and refugees. Nearly every apartment represents a different nationality, but all have a common Jewish lineage and communicate with varying masteries of Hebrew. As an added bonus, the Merkaz Klita is the longest building in the Middle-East. Take that, Dubai.

For the first week here, we essentially ran around the country with the goal of exploring the area and getting a sense of the volunteer opportunities. As part of Be’er Sheva orientation, we did a volunteer day in the developing town of Dimona. The project was led by a group called Ayalim, which is possibly the coolest organization I have ever encountered. The Negev Desert covers 60% of Israel’s land mass, but holds only 10% of the population and has the highest unemployment rate in the country. Accordingly, a bunch of college students got together and decided that to continue Ben Gurion’s legacy, the next generation of pioneers must look to the Negev for population development. To realize this expansion, the students are creating communes in arid landscapes directly outside of developing communities. When they’re not attending class, they volunteer to enhance the communities both structurally and socially, hoping over time to settle a young, attractive population right in the heart of the desert, where Israeli’s security could use it most. We spent the day building a garden, oiling wood planks, and tiling floors. Perhaps I could fall back on a career in carpentry...

Big Transitions

My Israel experience began thusly: I arrived at the El Al terminal in JFK to see a line of mostly orthodox Jews winding maze-like through the queue and stretching into the hallway, around the corner, and halfway down the shopping center. It was a quintessential beginning: As we paraded a half-mile down to wait in line, a man toddled past us and muttered in a thick caustic Yiddish accent, “We’d get to Israel faster if we walked.”

What has followed has been a roller coaster of a week. We did a lot of the typical tourist agenda for orientation: walked through Jerusalem’s Old City on Shabbat, did a camel trek and slept in a Bedouin tent, floated in the Dead Sea… all utterly surreal experiences that left my emotions spinning to every possible extreme. For example, let us try a scenario: After 60 continuous hours of jet-lagged sleeplessness, what would your least preferred activity be? If you chose a 6-hour hike at in the blazing hot desert, you might just be living my life. It was nauseating, painful, refreshing, scorching, and beautiful all at the same time.

Now, after my week-long re-enactment of my camper days, I have arrived in my Be’er Sheva apartment to stay (for a time). Despite being the smallest living quarters I have ever experienced, it yields a potential for adventure and will give me the kick in the ass I need to sympathize with new immigrants and impoverished citizens. This city is indeed an interesting cultural phenomenon, and I hope to elaborate soon on how life works in this strange desert oasis.