Weiss: Commemorating the second anniversary of the Gaza conflict that brought so much suffering to Gaza, we ran a number of reminiscences by young Gazans. Here is a piece submitted to us by an Israeli and commenter on the site, Jon S. A teacher, he wrote this letter to friends during the conflict, which ended two years ago today:
Dear friends and relatives I’ve been meaning to write to all of you for some time, since the operation in Gaza started. Today a “unilateral ceasefire” has been declared, I’m home because the schools are closed as incoming rockets are expected (as part of the ceasefire?) , so this may be the right time to share recent experiences.
During the first days of the operation, I was out of Beersheva, travelling with the 11th grade classes on a 6 day trip in the Negev and Jerusalem. On the second night of the trip, Dec. 30, we were staying in Revivim (south of Beersheva) and we heard that Beersheva had been hit: a rocket had hit a kindergarten, which was empty because it was evening. Many kids became agitated but these days, thanks to their cellphones , it was possible to ascertain fairly quickly that their families were ok.
The mayor of Beersheva, meanwhile, in what turned out to be a life-saving decision, had decided not to open the schools the next morning…and around 9 AM a rocket hit an (empty) classroom IN OUR SCHOOL! Our initial reaction was disbelief: what are the odds that in a large, sprawling city like Beersheva a single rocket will crash directly on a 9th grade classroom in Makif Alef? Anyway, regardless of the odds, that’s what happened. It made me think of Yossarian in Catch 22 : “why are they shooting at me?”
At this point many of the kids wanted to cut short the trip and head home, and many of the teachers also felt that they wanted to be with their families, especially those with young children. On the other hand we didn’t want to make a decision based on panic, which may also turn out to be irresponsible (returning from a location which is out of range to a city which is under attack). So we decided to proceed to Dimona, the next stop on our itinerary, to calm down and make a rational decision. We decided to continue our program for the day and towards evening headed for the kibbutz guest-house where we were scheduled to stay for the night, all the time asking ourselves –and our students – what we should do. Our impression was that the overwhelming majority, students and faculty, wanted to go home. In the morning we informed them of the decision, and to our amazement, were met by howls of protest, the majority now wanted to continue on schedule. Turns out that “overwhelming majorities” can shift literally overnight. So we reversed our decision, allowing those who really wanted to go home to do so, provided that their parents come to get them. In the end only 5 left, out of 118.
We got back to Beersheva on Saturday night, Jan. 3, as scheduled, just as the “second phase”, the ground attack, was getting under way.
Since then, we’ve had alarms about once every day: when the siren sounds we go to our “security room”, a.k.a Michal’s bedroom, and listen for one long, nerve-wracking minute, to hear the impact, which we may or may not hear, and then wait 5 minutes more before going back to “normal”.
