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Kibbutz Nir Am: Living with Kassams
Posted by: "judybalint" judy.balint@gmail.com judybalint
Wed Jan 7, 2009 11:40 am (PST)
Thanks to ESRA On-line for this message from Marcell Bar-On of Kibbutz Nir Am:"NIR-AM is situated on the Northwestern border between Israel and the Gaza Strip. The
kibbutz consists of 120 adult members and 60 children. Nir-Am was one of eleven
kibbutzim established along the Gaza border and surrounding areas between 1943-1945
for the purpose of settling the land and securing the border. It was the first kibbutz where
subterranean fresh water was found, a discovery that made it possible to successfully
settle the Northern Negev Region.
My husband's parents were both members of the small group of 22 young Zionists who
founded the kibbutz in 1943. At the age of 17 Asher made his way, mostly on foot, to
Israel, having escaped the Nazis in Russia. He never saw or heard from his family again.
Rachel and her brother were put on a train to Israel by their parents in Bratislava,
Czechoslovakia. Her whole family perished in the Nazi concentration camps.
Nir-Am's location - between the Northern Negev town of Sderot and Beit Hanoun, the
Palestinian town where most of the Kassam rocket attacks originate - has been
devastating for our community and has turned a small piece of heaven into a living hell.
Every bomb that falls in Sderot travels over our kibbutz, and almost every bomb that falls
short, falls in Nir-Am, both in the living areas and in our fields. Nir-Am has suffered more
attacks than any other community outside of Sderot. Since 2000, 90 Kassam bombs have
fallen among the houses and childrens' houses of Nir-Am and another 500 have fallen in
the surrounding fields, killing livestock and setting our crops on fire. When the news
reports speak of bombs falling in `open areas' it usually means that they have fallen in
Nir-Am.
The attacks are unprovoked, unpredictable and continuous, and their effect has been close
to catastrophic for us, both economically and psychologically. Our every action, our every
waking moment, is geared toward minimizing the impact of living under enemy fire. Our
first concern is always for our elderly and our children.
My son Gabi, who turns ten in December, was three years old when the bombings started
and doesn't remember life without Kassam bombs. There are no reinforced rooms in our
homes and the old communal shelters cannot be reached in the 5-10 seconds it takes a
Kassam bomb to travel between Beit Hanoun and Nir-Am.
So our family does what all the other families do; when we hear the "Tzeva
Adom" (red light) alert we huddle in a small windowless area (in our case, a small passage
between bedrooms), our bodies and the tiled roof the only barriers between our
children and the incoming bomb. We silently count the seconds to impact and I often need
to remind the children to breathe - they are frozen in total terror. And we pray
that this time, too, we will be spared.
The effect has been most obvious on our children. At home, bedwetting, aggressive
behavior, extreme mood swings, insomnia, loss of appetite... and at school, lack of
concentration, absenteeism, hyperactivity, outbursts of anger and physical and verbal
aggression.
But no one is spared the psychological warfare of which we are all victims, almost as many
adults are in counseling as are children in an attempt to cope with the harsh reality of our
daily lives. In fact, as parents we carry the additional burden of guilt for not being able to
protect our children, we feel responsible for what is happening to them.
Driving with car windows open, even in the heat of summer, so that one can hear the alert
and perhaps have a chance to stop the car and get to some kind of shelter...
children playing outside, always acutely aware of exactly where the nearest house or
tree is, so that they can run for their lives and find what inadequate and pitiful protection
they can... cell phones for every child of school age so that we can stay in contact with
them when they are not at home and can call to see whether they are safe after every
bomb has fallen... how can I describe the long moments waiting for my child to answer
the phone after a Tseva Adom alert?
Due to repeated and deliberate targeting the elementary school has been relocated
to Kibbutz Ruhama, an affiliated kibbutz out of range of the bombs. There our children
attend classes in temporary trailer-type rooms and this facility will be their school for
the next few years until a new reinforced school can be built for them. There are no
playgrounds and no recreational facilities or sports fields, but they are safely out of
range... at least during school hours.
Economically, the impact has been no less severe. In Nir- Am, the various businesses
have all been affected and we have lost more than $1.3 million in income over the past
few years as a direct result of the Kassam attacks. This is an enormous loss in our terms.
The Government has completely failed to come to our aid where it counts most, the
protection of our loved ones. For seven years we have been waiting in vain for reinforced
rooms to be built in Nir-Am, our Government is unable or unwilling to fund this project.
And so to our personal Chanukah miracle. On the first day of Chanukah this year,
at 6.30am, a Kassam bomb fell less than five meters from where my son Gabi
and daughter Mayan were sleeping. I had been busy in my home office
when the Tzeva Adom alarm sounded. I could not hear the children running for
our little "safe corner" and I immediately realized that they had not heard the alarm
and were still asleep in their beds, even as the bomb was on its way from
Gaza.
I ran in the direction of their bedroom, shouting for them to wake up, as I reached
the bedroom door they jumped from their beds but a second later the bomb
struck. It did not explode upon impact, but penetrated deep into the soft
earth and later had to be retrieved with the help of a bulldozer.
Our personal Chanukah miracle had just occurred, had the bomb fallen one
week earlier, before the first winter rains when the earth had still been hard,
it would have exploded on impact and the result could have been catastrophic for
our family.
It is in the tradition of the pioneering spirit of our kibbutz founding members
that we have not spoken out to World Jewry until now but have chosen to
carry the burden of our situation in silence, hoping that our Government
would come to our aid. However, I feel that it is of utmost importance
that our plight is brought to your attention and, therefore, I have chosen
to send you this story of our life on the Gaza border.
I thank you for your interest and concern and for taking the time to learn
more about our situation. Please feel free to contact me at marcellu@nir-am.org.il.
Marcell Bar-On was born in South Africa and met her Israeli husband, Uzi, when she
was 25 years old. Uzi, Marcell and their four children are members of Kibbutz Nir-Am (an
agricultural community).
Kelly, 21 years old, completed her National Service a year ago, Dana, 20, completed
her National Service in January, Mayan and Gabi are both pupils at Sha'ar HaNegev,
the local regional school, where Marcell teaches English to grades 1-7.
The View From Sderot
Posted by: "judybalint" judy.balint@gmail.com judybalint
Wed Jan 7, 2009 5:04 pm (PST)
Dear Jerusalem Diaries friends,These are extraordinary times in Israel, so we'll be sending out more messages than usual
to try to give you a more complete picture of the situation here.
What follows is the blog of my friend, documentary film maker Laura Bialis, who made
aliya to Sderot last year:
Please continue to pray for our soldiers.
Judy Lash Balint, Jerusalem.
Moderator
------------------------------
Wartime in Israel: What it looks like from Sderot
January 6th, 2009
These have been interesting days. For the last week, I've wanted to write my experiences
and share them with all of you. To be honest, it's been hard to concentrate. I've been busy
— I've been trying to capture as much as possible with my video camera. I used to have a
crew, but my two usual shooters are afraid to come to Sderot right now. So I'm on my own,
except for my husband, who has become my assistant cameraperson because he won't let
me out of his sight. We've made a pact to try to stay together as much as possible so we
don't worry about each other.
I want to describe what it looks like – and sounds like –- from here.
Every morning, we are awakened by the Tzeva Adom alert. This is one of the most bizarre
air raids in history. It starts with the click of a loudspeaker, and then a calm woman's
voice says "Tzeva Adom (Color Red), Tzeva Adom (Color Red)" over and over again. The
alert has been difficult to hear at times, especially if you were playing music or watching
TV. Last week, two soldiers from the Home Command Unit appeared at our door and
handed us a home beeper system that goes off two seconds before the Tzeva Adom alert.
So now the loud beeper sound is added to the repertoire.
The moment of the alert, my husband Avi and I jump out of bed and run to our Mamad –
our bomb shelter. We huddle there and hug each other waiting to hear the explosion.
Sometimes it's a distant thud. Sometimes it is terrifyingly close, and our house shakes.
After about twenty seconds, it's over. They say that you have a fifteen second warning.
Actually, it varies. And once in a while, you will hear a Qassam land without a Tzeva Adom
alert. Those are the worst times, because that means there is a very decent chance that
someone has been hurt.
Here in Sderot, we are accustomed to Tzeva Adom alerts on a weekly and even daily basis.
But last week, the situation reached a new level. On Wednesday, December 24, we received
over 60 rockets. The following Saturday, we heard a new sound – airstrikes. It was a
strange moment. Finally, after eight years, Israel was taking action. Since then, the
Qassam attacks have been endless. In the old days, we knew there could be a Tzeva Adom
alert. Now we know there will be.
This week, there have been approximately 10 Tzeva Adom alerts in Sderot every day
(some days more, some days less.) Keep in mind – each Tzeva Adom is accompanied by
two to four exploding rockets.
So this is how we live. We stay alert at all times. If Avi takes a shower, I need to be nearby
listening for the alert, ready to grab him out of the shower if need be (and vice versa). If
we drive somewhere, we tune our radio to channel 104, the army channel. All Tzeva Adom
alerts are broadcast on that station, so you can immediately get out of your car and run
for cover. We also drive with seat belts off, and windows open, just in case. (Several of the
people who have died from Qassams were in their cars when the attack occurred.)
Where do we run? Well, Sderot is pretty well prepared. There are bomb shelters of every
shape and size everywhere you look – almost every ten meters you have one. The idea is
that you are always within fifteen seconds of a shelter. However, this concept is flawed in
its execution. Some areas are covered with shelters. But some residential streets have
none. If you are on a residential street in the middle of a Tzeva Adom alert, you run into
the nearest house. This is what happened today. As we heard the alert, we saw a flash of
two people in front of our house. We ran, opened the door, and the two young guys
followed us, running into our bomb shelter. We waited to hear the explosions, they
thanked us and were on their way.
Another issue - not all homes have bomb shelters. In fact, several of my friends don't have
one, and fifteen seconds are not long enough for them to reach the public shelter. They
usually crouch under a stairwell hoping everything will be okay.
But ironically, Sderot is probably the safest place in Southern Israel at the moment.
Because now the entire South is being hit: Ashkelon, Ashdod, Be'er Sheva, and Netivot,
among others… We have friends in these cities, and when the bombs started to fall there,
they were in shock for days. They are less prepared than us. There are not bomb shelters
lining the streets of these towns, but fewer, larger community shelters where now many
people are sleeping. While we definitely feel a sense of solidarity, the fact that large part of
the country is living much like us – running for shelter and fearing for their lives – creates
a whole new sad reality.
When I first came to Sderot I didn't run to the shelter. The threat seemed so random. It
seemed almost impossible that you were going to be hurt. The fear of Qassams is
something that takes a while. It grows on you. Because now, I know too many people with
near misses. I have a friend who reluctantly left his bed to go the shelter. He was lucky he
decided to go, because the Qassam landed directly on his bed, where he had been
sleeping a few seconds earlier. I have another friend who miraculously survived a Qassam
hit on her house. She is okay after massive rehab, but she has shrapnel in her brain that is
too deep to remove. And I have friends who have seen people killed by Qassams – right
before their eyes.
I often feel that the international press doesn't get it. They make light of the rockets.
Because when you come to Sderot for one day, the attacks seem random and you feel
somehow immune from harm. The words "amateur homemade rockets" that I see written
in most major news publications, make the threat seem less serious. But the fact is, these
rockets are nothing other than bombs, falling from the sky, designed to kill civilians. And
they do.
The press usually focuses on the number of dead people. If these Qassams are really
dangerous, why haven't more people died? Good question. Thousands of lives have been
saved by the 15-second warning system. With over 10,000 rockets that have landed in
this area in the past eight years, there would most likely be hundreds killed if not
thousands. But the fact that we know when the rockets are coming, saves our lives. Still,
is this any way to live? Can you imagine this happening in any city in America or Europe?
On Sunday, I filmed a home that had been completely destroyed that morning. It was a
small, three-room place. No bomb shelter, but miraculously, the room where the owner
took cover wasn't hit. The rest of the house was demolished. I've seen tons of footage of
destroyed homes in Sderot, and filmed in broken houses. But I had never set foot on fresh
rubble just a few hours old. I was shaken. That house was struck by a Qassam, which is
approximately 6-8 kilos of explosives attached to a metal tube with fins.
Last night we were informed of new intelligence that Hamas intends to begin shooting
Grads into Sderot. Grads are twice the size of Qassams and are what Hamas uses to bomb
the further cities like Ashkelon, Ashdod, and Be'er Sheva. Now you know why my
cameraman has headed out of town
