2:3 In the Midst of Mayhem

I remember observing, on arrival to Israel, that this is the best year I could have made Aliyah. Previous to this time, the Intifada period arrived, dampening the buzz of Tel Aviv. The economy slumped, shops tailing down Ben Yehuda were boarded up and a wave of dreariness washed up on Tel Aviv’s shore. Political dialogue paved the way for a controversial wall to be set between ‘us’ and ‘them’ and Gaza was disengaged. Following the developments, an economy defined by ‘bullish’ trends rose to the face of Tel Aviv, shop windows took ‘for sale’ signs down, refurbishment waved through coffee shops and the tide drew back, leaving behind a glow on Hayarkon promenade. I felt at ease in the holy land and a realisation that life in Israel doesn’t have to be defined by a state of terror.

The past week, the tide changed yet again. The kidnapping of two Israeli soldiers by Hizbollah (definition: ‘Shiite terrorist organization with strong ties to Iran; seeks to create an Iranian fundamentalist Islamic state in Lebanon; car bombs are the signature weapon’, www.thefreedictionary.com), leading to escalated violence and ‘war’ between Lebanon and Israel resounds on every news channel, every moment of the day.

I want to avoid any discussion of the ‘wrongs’ and ‘rights’ of the situation and where the finger should be pointed. The arena of discussion suffices, as keyboards are tapped away at by journalists, commentators and even in the public voice of other blog writers, discussing the actions of Israel, Lebanon, Hizbollah, Iran and Syria. Nothing I say will provide any new insight or evaluation that has already been said. So, in the blog-centric fashion, I will give you insight into my experience of living in the midst of mayhem, sat poised in front of the television as the story develops.

News flash: Sirens sound in Haifa

As most people in Israel did over Shabbat (obviously except those that keep Shabbat!), I was glued to Sky news broadcast, watching current affairs progress. The frightening part is that I no longer have the Mediterranean Sea wedged between myself and danger; it is now on my front doorstep. Around 8 o’clock on Friday night, just before I was to sit with Effy’s family to welcome Shabbat into our weekend with a chorus of blessings, I sat in shock as a news translator provided comprehension to the words of a Hizbollah leader. I crouched rigidly with my knees to my chest and arms wrapped around them tightly, as I heard the conflict with Israel would now be an ‘open war’ and, in so many words, Israel would now pay for everything done up till now.

I freaked out. I could not handle the words coming through the TV set. They entered my mind like a drug infiltrating into my blood stream, creating a reaction of ‘eraticness’ and irrationalness. There were only two people that could potentially bring me back to a state of sanity, my parents. My clock of independence turned back to the past and I became nervous and unsettled like a little child lost in a busy shopping mall. I dialled my father’s mobile and I was overwhelmed with relief with his voice on the other end.

Me: Dad, it’s me
Dad: Ohhh Boobala … it is so nice to hear your voice. I was going to call you this evening. Are you okey? What is going on?
Me: Dad, I am scared (tears starting streaming down my face), I can’t take it anymore, I wanna come home.
Dad: What has happened??
Me: They … they just declared war … an open war.
Dad: (anger intensifying in his voice, excuse the political sway here) Don’t let those bloody bastards scare you!! Those f**king bastards … Don’t let them scare you. This is exactly what they want … Listen, you are a ‘Shaer’, you have to act strong, you are tough girl (the expected answer from my Dad, bless him).
Me: DAD (interrupting his bluster) … I am scared! It has never got this bad … What should I do, I want to come home, I don’t know what to do?? (I said in a blubbering tone).
Dad: (his tone shifts suddenly, in realisation of my state) Okey boobey, dolly … I understand … calm down … if you really want to come home, it isn’t a bad idea. But listen, this is all psychological warfare. Don’t let those f**king bastards scare you ….”

I realized I wasn’t getting anywhere and shoved the phone to Effy, and let the ‘men’ discuss my welfare. Now, I am never usually like this … I promise! The words echoing on the news broke down my wall of strength and ability to cope.

Amongst the midst of this madness, surrounding the debate, the whaling and the anger, human beings are being killed. I disregarded the two-sided debate between ‘us’ and ‘them’ occurring, and focused on the thoughts: I am too young to die … I don’t want to killed ... there is so much in my life I have yet to achieve. This attitude may appear narcissist, self-absorbed or even childish. Yet, when you find yourself in a situation where missiles are being fired at areas relatively near to you, when the words ‘open war’ are spat at the country you live in, then arguably, this reaction to war is a common one amongst newcomers, like myself.

News flash: Syria vows firm, direct and unlimited response if it is attacked by Israel.

After my hysteria calmed down, I wiped the tears away, breathed deeply to relieve my mental composition, and returned to a state of normality. I attended the Shabbat table, joining Effy’s family in reciting the blessings. His father, Yitsak, joked

Yitsak: “Huuney (his nickname for me), at mephachedete?” (Are you scared, in a sarcastic tone?) “Huh huh huh” (and continued with laughter).

His brother turned to me and remarked “don’t worry Nat, this happens all the time.” Yeah sure, if you have spent your whole life in the Middle East, I thought to myself. I was certain my behaviour had been viewed as an over reaction and was angry that my fear was mocked. Yes, their reaction to the war was totally different to my episode; but come on, I am a newcomer to all of this after all! There will be an inconsistency in response between those that have lived with a backdrop of political upheaval all their lives, and those, i.e. me, an English girl brought up in the leafy suburbs of London, whose societal worries mount to nothing more than ministerial sex scandals and NHS funding discrepancies.

During the Intifada in 2003, I did live and work in Israel. Although, thankfully, due to the fact that I didn’t have access to a television set, I continued my business in Israel in a state of naivety, whilst suicide bombers continued to detonate themselves in public places. Presently, when safety is again on the brink of disqualification, I am sat glued to Sky news, and totally aware of every step taken, hence knowledge=awareness=hysteria.

News flash: Israel defence minister: Israel faces decisive moment in its history

I feel slight guilt over feelings of self concern and bitterness for the fact that I do feel vulnerable and nervous, as each headlines flash with a new development. I should be representing all the attributes my father enunciates … pride, stubbornness and nationalism. I guess my tuchus is not going anywhere, and I will stay put through all the progress, as the situation gets tougher and as I learn to deal with a situation Israeli citizens have always lived with… a state of being that is constantly reshaped by the hands of politicians and organisations. Yet, I am still a young girl at heart, and cannot deny the tendency towards concerns of self preservation and a parent’s comforting words.

This morning, as Shabbat vacated and Israel clocked into work, I returned to my flat in Tel Aviv to write my account of the events. The news resounded in the background, and headlines changed minutes apart:

News flash: Syrian PM warns of unlimited force if Israel attacks (in so many words)

News flash: Israeli cabinet minister: missiles that hit Haifa train are Syrian.

My stomach began to tighten and my nerves began to fray as the state of affairs worsened. I thought what the hell am I doing, I am torturing myself with intrigue; and with that in my mind, I slammed off the television, grabbed my book, and joined other young Tel Avivians on the benches of Rothschild, with an ice coffee and a state of innocence … ignorance is bliss and a much healthier condition for me to reside in.

Effy just informed me that the Hizbollah have missiles that can reach Tel Aviv and are planning to use them .... and I have no bomb shelter in my apartment block, f**k ... where is the whiskey?