Just a normal Israeli from Sderot
Listening to people can be extremely rewarding. It can open your eyes to perspectives and ideas you otherwise would never be confronted with. One of the beautiful things with Israel is that people love to talk – also to listen – but even more to talk. In short, they love communication.
Israelis all have stories to tell. As we know, there is not a dull moment in this tiny country – unfortunately. Everyone is connected in one way or another to events that we in the rest of the world only get to hear in the media. Below you will read about my talk with just a normal Israeli.
On Friday two weeks ago, I bumped into Shlomo and four or five of his kids; hard to tell how many since they kept on running around – he even had more of them back home. I met them on a hill just outside the city of Sderot. We found a place in the shade of a tree located less than a kilometer from Gaza with a beautiful view of this area that everyone has heard so much about.
A few kilometers south of us, thousands of Palestinian-Arab demonstrators, and among them armed terrorists, burned tires, sent burning kites and tried to break through the border fence by use of various explosive devices. A few days later they would send a rocket that demolished a house in Beersheva and by a miracle no one was killed. We could not see the violent demonstrations, but there was a strong smell of burnt land, and we could see the pillars of smoke from the burnt rubber tires.
Shlomo had moved with his family to Sderot from northern Israel because of a job opportunity. Turning in the opposite direction of Gaza, towards the outskirts of Sderot, he pointed out a house under construction saying proudly, “we will be moving in there soon.”
I asked if the conflict with Gaza, the rockets and mortar attacks and the terror tunnels did not make him think twice. He admitted that the situation was not easy. One of his daughters was suffering from trauma and was treated by a psychologist. I could tell it was painful for this father to accept that instead of having a child’s worries about what her Barbie doll should be wearing, his little girl was haunted by the fear of a terror attack.
As we were talking one his boys, maybe a five-year old, came running up asking; “where is it, where is the big white balloon.” Leaving the shade of the tree Shlomo pointed to one of the Israeli surveillance balloons, Skystar, hovering over northern Gaza, and said; “there it is.” A tiny smile appeared on the boy’s face before he ran away again, and Shlomo explained to me: “We tell our kids that those balloons are protecting us. They get worried when they cannot see them.”
Despite the hardships of living close to Gaza, Shlomo said the city of Sderot was blossoming; a fifty percent increase in population in less than ten years. “So you have no plans of moving back to the north,” I just had to ask, realizing the stupidity of asking such a question to a man who is building a new house: “No”, Shlomo said while gathering up is children to go home for Shabbat celebrations, “this is our home.”
During our talk, Shlomo and his older kids were wondering what this curious Norwegian was doing on a lonely hill outside their city. As always, when Israelis hear about foreigners that believe in them and, if only in a small way, try to spread good words about their country, the surprise in their faces is stunning. They are not used to not being criticized and condemned. The answer to Shlomo’s next question (which practically always is the same no matter which Israeli you talk to) was, “Yes Shlomo, there are many like me. There are many who support and love Israel.” Sadly, most of them are quiet.