Life in the Missiles' Path

This article originally appeared in the Jewish News of Greater Phoenix (21 Nov 2012). If you prefer, you may read the original here.

(The article below is an example of how Sal Caputo makes me look good on paper, which is handy for my first ever publication with a news site.)

________________________________

I’ve lived in Be’er Sheva, Israel, since Aug. 27. The city is unique with its large mix of Mizrahi Jews, Arabs and Russian immigrants. After the school year began, there was a welcome addition of English-speaking college students to the mix. What’s most prominent to me about life in the “capital of the Negev Desert,” however, is our proximity to the Gaza border, which is about 40 kilometers/30 miles away.

I’m here with 26 other native English-speaking teachers in Israel, volunteering for 10 months in a program called Israel Teaching Fellows. We live together in an apartment complex, three participants to each apartment. My group teaches English to Israeli students in Be’er Sheva.

At the outset, we were warned that Gaza sometimes sends off rockets that come our way. We were introduced to concepts like mammad (bomb shelter), air raid siren and 60-second time limits. Because we are 40 kilometers from the border, we know we have 60 seconds to find shelter when the air raid sirens begin. We also know that we must wait in the shelter for 10 minutes once the siren has stopped.
In September, I learned for the first time what that new vocabulary was all about.

Jump forward about three months and you find a group of Americans (and a Canadian) well-versed in the art of taking cover at ungodly hours of the night. We know about listening for booms and hoping that, when we hear one, it is the Iron Dome engaging a missile instead of the impact of a missile on homes. We even know about daytime experience with dodging missiles.

It’s incredibly frustrating to receive urgent emails from the U.S. Embassy and Consulate General about the escalated situation three months after we’ve been dealing with the reality. Be’er Sheva wasn’t really even in the news until Hamas military chief Ahmed Jabari was assassinated. The lack of previous coverage made it feel like our problems weren’t worth the world’s time.

But since early September, Be’er Sheva had dealt with air raid sirens on at least five occasions before the assassination. One of those sirens went off, for the first time, during school hours. Schools generally close the day after a siren, though students are often nervous days later. We are fortunate, however, to have the aid of an Iron Dome battery in our city, as some nearby cities had theirs moved to other locations. We also have the benefit of living in a newer apartment building, which provides a mammad on each floor.

Since we are not actually at war with anyone, we never know when to expect an attack. Sleep is almost certainly affected, and most of us are jumpy at the slightest, unexpected noise. My biggest discomfort is being shuttered into the mammad, yet I deal with the claustrophobia because being afraid is better than getting blown up. Things have escalated enough that my program has evacuated us from Be’er Sheva to Netanya. And all the while the missiles followed us north. I feel I’ve abandoned my students in the south, and I worry about how frightened they must be on both sides of the fence.

We hope the evacuation will be temporary, but that depends on a cease-fire. The program won’t allow us within 40 kilometers of the Gaza border while things are so escalated. We’re actively looking for volunteer work in the meantime, and making educational YouTube videos for our students.

More than anything, I want peace: I want the children on both sides of the Gaza border to know a night’s rest without the fear of attacks. I want all families to be safe and whole in their own homes. And I want to get back to my students in the south. After all, they’re why I’m here and why I’m staying.

******

Elisa Llewellyn is a resident of Phoenix. She holds a bachelor’s degree in English from Arizona State University.

Happy Birthday! I got you some missiles, hope that's ok...

My new year as 28 year-old adult started out with a bang. Literally. I was on the train to Tel-Aviv  when my madrich called (sounding a bit panicked) asking about where I was. It concerned me, since he knew about my trip but I knew something was really wrong when he sighed in relief when I said I was no longer in Be'er Sheva. Apparently, Hamas' military chief Ahmed Jabari was assassinated and Israel was expecting an escalation in missile attacks in retaliation. I was told to enjoy my trip and not worry too much about what was happening at home, but I needed to call ahead at the end of my trip to find out where I would be staying. [I should've realized at this point that if my Israeli madrich was considering the possibility of an evacuation, things were getting pretty bad.]

I tried not to worry overmuch when I met up with one of my Israeli friends and his girlfriend in Tel-Aviv to see a movie. Since Oren and I are both November babies, it was the perfect opportunity to hang out. And we did have a lot of fun eating "craps" and playing in the arcade. We ended up seeing Sky Fall, which did a good job keeping me distracted. I stayed the night in Tel-Aviv with an amazing family (aunt and uncle to my Bus Buddy Jess) who ended up taking me to the Carmel Shuk (shopping center) and even dropped me off at the bus station when it was time to start part two of my trip: the Mifgashim Shabbaton weekend in Beit Shean. It's a tough call, but that shuk was the highlight of my first solo trip to Tel-Aviv: I ended up buying a great purse, watch, and sunglasses for only 195₪!

When I got to Beit Shean, I got a call from my friends back home in Be'er Sheva; they were being evacuated as expected and I would likely meet up with them in Netanya at the conclusion of my trip. The mifgashim itself was fantastic. I met amazing people from around the world (including Israelis), ate fantastic food, made great friends, attended services at a Sephardic beit knesset and kicked my own butt on that bike ride. I was definitely feeling the ride days after the event, but it felt so great to challenge myself - and make good use of my hydration pack's helmet net!

I did end up meeting my friends in Netanya, only to realize I'd left my purse on the chartered bus from Beit Shean (classic Elisa behavior, unfortunately). Lucky for me, my friend Morgan rescued the purse. Because the evacuation happened after I'd already departed for my weekend, I only had about two days' worth of clothing, medicine, and contacts. Since I'd left my purse behind on the bus, I had no money to purchase replacements of anything for at least a day. I should've realized then what a sign all of it was, but it was just such a relief to see that my friends were safe and relatively happy.

To Be Continued ...

[But don't worry, things worked out in the end!]

When Halloween Comes to Be'er Sheva

Halloween's not really celebrated in much of Israel, expect for maybe Tel-Aviv. The religious interestingly associate the holiday with Christianity, so it's of course disliked all around. It's an amusing connection to make, since I think most Christians would strongly disagree. Either way, way definitely don't talk about the day in the religious schools. The members of my program, however, felt the year would not be complete without having our own Halloween celebration (I know I'm not the only one who adores the holiday). So we threw a party.

Halloween fell on Shabbat this year, so we had the party the day after. This way, everyone was able to attend. We ended up taking over the 3rd floor lobby of our apartment complex, as we tend to do, and we decorated the place to within an inch of its life in Halloween things. I mean orange chains of construction paper (they call is Bristol here), toilet paper streamers hanging from the ceiling tiles, colorful and often-times graphic depictions of zombies, vampires, and severed body parts. Because they were drawings though, they leaned more toward cute than gruesome, if you can imagine such a thing. There was candy, VERY LOUD music, and quite a few celebratory beverages - and we invited just about everyone to come, but they had to follow our one rule: you must wear a costume to attend.

The American attendees (or Israeli Americans, as the case often was) had the best, most thought-out costumes. It was awesome to have so many people go all-out with creative ingenuity (we are in Israel, after all). Two of the Israelis dressed as Terrence and Phillip from South Park (Brian also represented South Park, but as Towelie), we also had Batman, Superman's girlfriend (me), a garden, Big Bird, and even Thor. Our celebration had absolutely nothing to do with Judaism, Israel, or religious observance of any kind, but it had everything to do with community. A few of us decided to go for a beverage and falafel run in costume before the party really started. We thought we'd need to explain ourselves, but as soon as people saw us they shouted, "Purim!" It made us laugh, of course, since Halloween has as much to do with Purim as it does with Christianity - so maybe we made it a "Jewish" thing, after all.

Some of us might've been a bit excessive with our fun (e.g. me), but it the event was just what we needed to feel like we were more at home. Even our Madrichim came in costume: our Madrich came as an angel and our Madricha came as the devil. Actually, those costumes were probably the most perfect. I think they represented semi-religious Israelis quite well.

חג סוכות בבאר שבע, עם גשם

So many residents of Be'er Sheva celebrate Sukkot that it's hard to walk the neighborhood WITHOUT seeing a sukkah. They're made out of just about everything: from tarpaulin and camping material to wood, they're generally fairly eye-catching. Because they follow the Torah's specifications, they all have roofs made from natural materials and they're all placed so they're uncovered by natural or unnatural structures. This means, therefore, that we had quite a few Sukkot blocking our neighborhood's roadways so that it became a one-way street at times.

I spent the first night of Sukkot with my second adoptive family, along with my teaching partner. The host mom (Racheli) is a teacher at my school; her husband is fortunately very good with English (since we still hadn't had Ulpan yet), which he apparently got from living with his parents in Ireland for a few years. We had very good conversations about just about everything, especially when his parents joined the group. Also, the tunes for their prayers and songs were familiar to me (much like at Yom Kippur services) so I had an easy time joining in.

The food was amazing - especially since Racheli took the time to ensure I had vegetarian options to eat. And wow, is she a great cook! We had mushroom soup, mushroom stuffed bread, humus galore, and so much Israeli salad. Have I mentioned yet that I love Israeli food? Because I do! And I'm very much in awe of everything Racheli manages to get done between teaching full-time, being a wife, and being a mother to five children! It exhausts me just thinking about it. Basically, I've decided she's superwoman.

The family's Sukkah was made of tent material, including custom window flaps and a metal frame. The roof was made of thin wooden slats and was decorated with plastic streamers and lights. The walls had Sukkot-themed decorations, which were clearly organized with the help of the children (super cute). They even had an air conditioner, since it can still be pretty warm by that time of year (yet another similarity with Phoenix, AZ)! There was plenty of room for their family of 7, Racheli's in-laws, and my teaching partner and me.

The most memorable moment, however, was when it started to rain during dinner: it began as a sprinkle, but as dinner progressed it intensified and the wooden slats unfortunately let the rain through. It was hilarious, especially the kid's reactions. My host parents were pretty shocked to have actually got rain during Sukkot (I understand that's pretty rare here), and we eventually moved ourselves back into their apartment for dessert. Racheli's husband and two boys stayed the night in the Sukkot though, so all the mitzvot were met.

My favorite takeaway from the night was the chocolate cake and shoko (שוקו or chocolate milk) for breakfast. It's a nice tradition that I've happily adopted for my own special occasions and Shabbat mornings. I enjoyed getting to know Racheli's in-laws, who extended an invitation to stay with them some Shabbat. There's apparently a bit of a singles crisis in Jerusalem: the way she explained it, there were a bunch of single, religious men and women in Jerusalem who weren't making matches with one another. She thought it a good idea to bring me around, I guess to shake out a husband form the crowd of single, religious men? I'm still not really sure just what my limits are with religious significant others, but I imagine I'd figure it out when it came up. Now that I've re-settled, I think I should give them a call. If for no other reason, I've begun to appreciate the wonder of Shabbat in Jerusalem.

I've stayed over Racheli and her family several times since Sukkot and I'm looking forward to spending Shabbat with them again soon. Maybe I'll even wake up on Shabbat morning for tfillah services...

יום כיפור בבאר שבע

In the States, Yom Kippur was one of my favorite of the High Holy Days. I'm sure that means I'm warped and a glutton for punishment, but it's absolutely true. I love the overall theme of cleansing and renewal inherent in the Day of Atonement. I also love the solidarity felt while fasting with your fellow congregants - and Jews around the world. Well, those who fast anyway.

In some ways, Yom Kippur didn't feel like as much of a big deal in Israel. Not that no one observed, but more because so many observed and it was just a matter of course. The country essentially shuts down - so much so, you could take a leisurely stroll along the empty highway if you so chose. The religious fast, wear white, and attend prayer services (called tfillah or תפילה) at their local beit knesset. Overall, however, there's just much less of a to-do in Israel about fasting and prayer than there is in the States. It's a strange paradox, but one I've also felt about Shabbat as well. It is, however, a much more somber event in prayer services. Also, it's possible that because I don't speak much Hebrew I missed out on much of the self-reflection I'm used to during this time of year.

My friends and I found a beit knesset in my neighborhood for worship. It was an Ashkenazic congregation, which means I was thankfully more familiar with the trope used. I was also more comfortable with their style of worship, or rather, interpretation of what "appropriate" dati worship should look like: there was still a mechitza separating the men from the women, yet the women prayed more audibly and were overall more actively involved in the prayers. The men still led, but I felt more at home praying and singing with more volume. Breaking the fast, however, is a very big deal - though food always is around here. I made my now popular stove-top macaroni and cheese recipe - I add garlic and Moroccan paprika to the dish, which basically makes the stuff like crack. I never have leftovers. And man, were we ever thankful to gorge on comfort food after a LONG day of fasting!

I felt very thankful to experience this Day of Atonement in Israel. I was doubly thankful for the ease of finding places of worship within easy walking distance from my apartment. Especially since focusing on prayer does a wonderful job of taking your mind off of hunger and thirst. The naps aren't so bad either. My hope is that next time, I'll be worshipping as part of a congregation here instead of as a visitor. I'd also like to actually understand what everyone's saying and see just how much self-reflection is focused on.

חג ראש השנה בבאר שבע

I spent Rosh Hashanah (חג ראש השנה) with the first of my adoptive families here in Be'er Sheva. It was awesome to meet such a warm, welcoming family who didn't seem to mind that I looked NOTHING like them. My family, after all, are Timanim, which means they are Jews from Yemen. I think I was as delighted to meet them as they were to meet me (or at least, I hope that's the case)!

The family was very surprised at how excited I was to meet Jews originating from Yemen. The matriarch of the family and my host father's mother-in-law (the סבתא) was born in Yemen and moved to Israel in her late teens, I believe during Operation Magic Carpet. I was so embarrassed at my lack of Hebrew, yet she pulled me aside to tell me (in Hebrew) that it was ok and that I'd learn - just like she did as a new immigrant to Israel. As a resident of Yemen, her first language was Arabic. It was a very simple thing, but it really meant a lot to me.

She grew her family from very humble roots as an immigrant to Israel. She and her husband acquired a small home, which was gradually added to until they had enough rooms to house all 7 (or was it 9?) of their grown children. She was actually the first member of the family to verbally welcome them to the fold. I was staying with her son-in-law, her daughter, and her grandchildren, yet she was the one to cup my cheek gently to praise me for praying as required of the holiday and to say that I was welcome anytime.

Lucky for me, Havakuk (the son-in-law) spoke English, as did his sister-in-law Karen. The rest of the family had little to no English ability - or at least, that's what they told me. I've since learned that Israelis often downplay their linguistic abilities, most of the time out of humility. I had a great crash-course in Dati (religious) observance of Rosh Hashanah, in Temani style, with only a handful of known Hebrew words. Sink or swim was the situation, and I think I successfully only choked a few times. :)

Ironically, my Madricha advised me that Native Israelis don't know the word "shul", which is Yiddish for synagogue. Few Israelis actually speak Yiddish anymore, even those who came as Yiddishkeit. She advised us instead to use the word "synagogue". When I asked the family about their synagogue, however, they were puzzled. They'd never before heard the word! When I said, "You know, the shul? The place you pray?" they were all, "Oh yeah, shul! We call it Beit Knesset here" (בית כנסת). We all laughed - but I had to wonder why my madricha didn't just teach us the actual word used here. I still don't know why, but I think they actually knew "shul" because Havakuk's sister-in-law is actually Ashkenazim.

We attended the Temanim beit knesset and did tfilla in their home when we overslept services - I've learned that I do that a lot here. It's apparently not that uncommon among the Dati so I don't worry overmuch about it. It was a revelation to me that women come and go throughout services here. If they miss prayer at the beit knesset, they just pray at home. I also enjoyed the way they prayed - their melody style (also known as trope) was literally like a song. And even the youngest boy participants had perfect trope - no hesitation or stumbling over the words. It was beautiful. Also, the women were a lot less shy about peeking into the men's area through the curtain to see the Torah as it was brought out.

They ended Rosh Hashanah with a toast to me - after first giving me a hard time for gifting them with better wine than what they used for Kiddush. In my family, being given a hard time is the greatest sign of being a part of the clan. It was such a great feeling to be so welcome. Havakuk let me know repeatedly that I was always welcome to spend any time with his family, be it for Shabbat or a weekend. It was a lovely gesture and I can't wait to spend more time with them. Especially since my Hebrew is MUCH better. Not perfect by any means, but I'm proud of my progress after only four-and-a-half months.

Catching Up: Where Elisa Admits She's a Flake

I haven't blogged since September and I have much to share, so please excuse my tardiness. I'm going to attempt three to four month's worth of blog posts into this month - and then I'm committing to more regular posts.

I'd like to think one a week at minimum is doable, but let's not hold me to it just yet. I'm generally a very dedicated person, but it's really hard to hold me to these things. Well, that and party attendance. I guess I'm an occasional flake. Who knew?

More to follow...