The Quiche

Tonight we are having a pot-luck supper at our congregation to celebrate the birth of a grandchild to one of our members.

My contribution is a quiche.


Shabbat Shalom!

Back In The Heart Of My Congregation

On Friday, for the first time in six weeks, we drove to Naharia for Friday night services.

We parked in the street and looking round saw the scars of the war; chunks gouged from walls and pockmarks sprayed across concrete from the ball bearings in the warheads, broken shutters, shattered windows and black singe marks where the explosions had caused a fire.

It seemed illicit to be outside, vaguely reprehensible to allow my children to wander so freely.

The community centre where we normally hold services had suffered blast damage: Windows had shattered showering glass all over the hall and damaging the air conditioners. Instead we held services in Wizo.

We arrived early and the room was already packed. Even those congregants who attend less regularly had responded to hurried phone calls that had occupied most of our morning as we tried to inform every one of the renewal of services and the change of venue.

For most of us this was the first time we had been together for more than a month and for many it was an affirmation of their return home. We greeted one another with hugs and smiles and a few tears.

As we joined together in celebration of the end of the war we sang songs of peace and friendship and prayed for the dead and bereaved, the injured and the kidnapped and most especially for those personally affected within our community.

This loss was most symbolically represented by the two youth members who assist the Rabbi in leading services. One of them had just returned from a host family because their home had been destroyed in an attack and the other young member had lost his aunt in the first attack on Naharia.

Suddenly the prayers for peace that we say routinely every Friday held a more personal significance.

When it came time for the Drash and the congregation notices the Chairman and the Rabbi thanked the members of the congregation who had helped keep people informed and in contact with one another.

Deepest thanks was for our community coordinator who spent so much time and effort organising for people to leave the North and find host families. In his ‘free-time’ he gave many interviews to the Spanish-speaking media explaining Israel’s side of the conflict and showing them what was really happening in the North.

As the service drew to a close we all joined hands and sang the Tikva.

ES

Ring Ring … Hello?

Yesterday both my mobile and the cordless phone went dead. Nothing terminal, their batteries ran out of juice because we have been talking so much. They haven’t enough ‘rest time’ to charge up properly.

I am still trying to keep in touch with the various members of our congregation still in town but as the war continues I am getting through to more and more answering machines. I can only assume that people have moved to safety in the center of Israel.

On Monday I phoned a gentleman in his eighties to check if he was still receiving food from the Naharia municipality. His wife had traveled to family in the center of Israel and was desperate to convince him to join her. Meanwhile she was terrified that he was dodging katuyshas on the street in the search for food.

He was quite cheerful when I spoke to him but bored. I asked how long he’d lived in Israel and he told me how he came the first time in 1939 and joined the Haganah. Then in WWII he joined the British army and was one of Montgomery’s Desert Rats, dashing round on a motorcycle delivering messages. Exciting Stories, especially for a history enthusiast like me.

Next day it seems he had had enough of the boredom and finally let his wife convince him to join her.

I seem to spend a lot of my day on the phone checking up on people and try to break the boredom with a little chat. I don’t really like talking on the phone: that ring-ring is so preemptory and demanding and if I talk for long I get earache. But at present we really have no other alternative for people not reliably connected to the Internet.

My friend from the congregation phones me every couple of days. We are still trying to do some of our volunteer work: keeping up to date with members of our congregation, informing our ‘twin’ congregations in the USA about our situation and doing some fund raising so we can rebuild our congregation once this mayhem is over. We also chat and exchange personal news. It is a pleasant break in my day.

Afterwards we pass the phones to our daughters who chitchat away on their own matters. My daughter enjoys having an outlet for her ‘frontline’ stories, a female companion to discuss things with instead of her brother.

And then of course there are phone calls to my parents. We normally see them several times a week. Now we can’t visit so much but they phone at least once a day to inquire after the children and me.

They can’t take a day out because of their menagerie of animals (4 dogs and 15+ cats) and my mother is getting a little worn down by it all. My Dad is less bothered. He has lived through several Israeli wars and spent twenty years on a kibbutz near Kiryat Shmona, much of the time with Syria on the Golan Heights taking potshots at Israeli farmers whenever they felt like it. He was even security chief (Or Sheriff as they called him) for a while.

My mother always struggles in the heat of an Israeli summer so she tries to spend a month or so in England each year. Her plane ticket was already booked but she was unsure whether she should go and felt she was abandoning us.

We had a long chat and I explained that it would be easier knowing she was in England. While she is here I feel a certain responsibility that I should be around to help, especially as she understands so little Hebrew, and that restricts my own options.

Although I am concerned for Dad, being under fire is not new to him and I know he would be able to cope if we went away for a couple of days.

They also had the problem of how to get to the airport. There is almost no public transport this side of Haifa. My mother had to be at Ben Gurion airport by 2am and I didn’t really fancy having my Dad make a four-hour round trip in the middle of the night. A quick call to my car-crazy, totally fantastic husband solved the problem – he would drive them.

ES

After the weekend

Sunday was a frenzy of inactivity.

I tried to create some kind of routine so the children wouldn’'t spend all day in the front of the TV.

After breakfast I gave them English worksheets to complete and then insisted they read for a while.

My husband was transfixed by the news and I looked at the Internet in between answering emails and checking the worksheets the children had completed.

Situation or no situation there is always housework to be done so I ploughed through the weekend dishes and made a start on the laundry.

My laundry room is open and along with a gentle breeze I could feel the heat of the day. In the open air the booms seemed much closer.

At 11 o’'clock my husband was supposed to return to work. Desperate for fresh air I ordered the children into the security room and joined him in the entrance as he waited for the work'’s bus.

Our street was bathed in beautiful yellow sunshine, deserted except for a few people sheltering under the buildings. A quick phone call confirmed that the bus was not coming; the army would not allow the factory to open.

Excellent news! Despite everything I still enjoy it when my husband is home.

Midmorning I got a call from Reform HQ in Jerusalem. Our congregation coordinator was organising a bus to take people out of the North, either to friends or host families.

I sent an email to our English-language notice board and again phoned people without an Internet connection. They were pleased to hear from me again and were touched by the display of concern but they had no intention of leaving.

Later Jerusalem phoned again. They had activity kits for the children in shelters and asked me to help putting them in touch with the local municipalities. Both town hall’s were abuzz with activity and were appreciative of any help we could offer.

Yet again it was a day of phone calls, email and news by evening I felt physically joined to my computer.

ES

Weekend under fire

With nowhere to go I expected Friday to be quieter than usual. Fat Chance!

First I tried to tidy up but with four large mammals constantly in the house it wasn'’t so easy.

Then I read on the Argentinean’'s Spanish language notice board that the lady killed in the attack on Naharia was a relative of one of our younger congregants. So sad.

A quick look at the news pictures showed that a missile had fallen right on Naharia, close to the houses of many of my friends, most especially the Rabbi.

I phoned our congregation coordinator to check I had understood Babel fish’'s translation correctly (I don’'t speak Spanish) concerning the lady who was killed. They had already moved out to friends as they have newborn baby and live in an older flat without a security room. He was still managing the congregation long distance, and despite the fact he himself has not been here long he was helping the new immigrants from the community come to terms with the less pleasant aspects of living in Naharia.

Next I phoned the Rabbi and had a chat with his wife. They also live in an older flat without a security room and have moved within Naharia to stay with friends (and fellow congregants).

Finally I phoned our congregation chairman to pass on news, confirm the cancellation of Shabbat (Friday evening) services and to inquire after his well-being. He is a native Nahahrian so was as cheery as usual.

I forwarded messages of goodwill and a notice of cancellation of services to the English language notice board and then started to phone English speakers without an Internet connection. They were all glad to hear from me to exchange news and chat about the situation but no one seemed particularly stressed. They are mostly veteran Naharians, well aware of the significance of living so close to the border with Lebanon.

In the middle of all this chaos we have suffered a family bereavement: my cousin from the south died after a short illness. Although I met him several times and found him a kind, friendly man he was closer to my father in age and in fact they were friends from childhood.

Of course there was no possibility of my father getting to the funeral but he would like to pay his respects at the shiva (seven days of mourning). My mother can'’t stay alone with all the animals in this situation so I offered to move up for the night when my husband returns to work and the night shift this week.

We also realised that my aunt in Naharia had not been informed of the death. Due to the situation we couldn'’t reach her. I phoned one of my cousins and although I had no success in locating my aunt I had a nice long talk with my cousin'’s wife. Eventually we got hold of another of the sons who confirmed that my aunt was safely ensconced in the communal shelter with friends and neighbours.

After hours on the phone I was pleased I had chosen a simple meal for Shabbat. I invited my parents and it was all pretty much as usual except for the fact we hadn’'t been to synagogue.

Saturday was the usual lazing around, watching motor racing interspersed with news.

In the afternoon we visited the in-laws, as usual. There was a traffic snarl from Naharia to Cabri so we took the road ‘through the villages’ – the scenic route past Arab and Jewish villages.
Later a friend phone my husband in shock. He had been waiting at the traffic lights in Naharia when a missile had landed on the junction. Luckily he was not hurt.

Acco was a little livelier than Shlomi but there weren’t many people on the streets. Naturally it was a lot quieter than here and it was nice to have change as well as a good meal cooked by someone else.

ES