15 Seconds

Imagine a nightmare in which you have fifteen seconds to run for your life.

You hear a whistle, and soon after, an explosion that may or may not have hit your home.

Imagine you are a mother, driving in a car, when The Alarm goes off. You pull over to the nearest shelter, and you are faced with a dilemma: which child to save first.

Imagine you are ten years old, playing at recess. All of a sudden, your teacher is yelling at you to run, and you don't know why, but you do it anyway. Then you see parts of your school in flames, while you look through the opening of the "kid-friendly" painted bomb shelter.

To the everyday citizens of Sderot, this nightmare is a reality.

Although the rockets from Gaza to Sderot have dramatically decreased since the Gaza war of 2009, the people of Sderot still live with a constant fear over their heads.

This past Thursday my section visited the city for our weekly Siyur. Before the day trip, we all wondered what we could possibly be doing in the city; gloomy and poverty stricken, Sderot isn't exactly a tourist attraction. However, turns out a lot can be learned from the graffitied buildings and painted bomb shelters.

Located in the southwestern part of Israel, the small city of Sderot overlooks Gaza, thus making it an ongoing target for Quassam rocket attacks. To protect the cities neighboring the Gaza strip, The Israeli Defence Forces have set up the "Tzeva Adom" or Red Color alarm system that sounds, for fifteen seconds, upon detecting a rocket signature. We learned a bit about the alarm system and the citizens of Sderot during the bus tour of the city.

The sights we visited can be defined with the following adjectives: surprising, horrific, and sadly ironic, in that order.

The first place we visited was a large display of Quassam rockets. We learned how to tell the difference between the rockets from different terrorist organizations based on their markings. I was surprised simply by the sheer quantity of rockets present, though it was just a small sample of thousands. Snapshots of explosions appeared before me, and behind each explosion, a story. Although many of those rockets landed in middle-of-nowhere desert, I couldn't help but think of who may have been affected by that piece of metal, now sitting idly on a shelf.

The second sight we saw only through our windows on the bus, but it was nevertheless intense. The visual looked as such: an elementary school with bulky black coverings for protection above the roof. A pink trailer (a separate classroom) worn down and covered in holes from shrapnel. To think an elementary school was targeted for a rocket attack is a horrific thought--it is an image that has yet to escape my thoughts.

One of our last stops of the tour was a playground. As shown in the picture above, a girl stands innocently within a tunnel, and behind her is what seems to be an ordinary jungle-gym. However, if we were to zoom out, we would see that the tunnel is truly a snake shaped bomb-shelter, created specifically for children. I couldn't help but think of the irony in the juxtaposition of the bomb shelter, a refuge from death and terror, and a playground.

I got the feeling that the children of Sderot are unlike other children of Israel.

Babies reflexively lift their arms to be picked up at the sound of sirens. Kids practice running into one of the many shelters dispersed throughout the town. People hop in and out of the shower, just incase they don't hear the alarm. Headphones are worn sparingly. Because hearing the alarm is the difference between life and death, all residents of Sderot are trained to be aware at all times.

Our last stop in Sderot was a place I wasn't expecting Year Course to take us--the Israeli-Gaza border. Like most borders, there is no real geographical separation of the territories. Thus, the view wasn't anything special, or momentous, like one might think it would be. Very anticlimactic, to be honest. Looking over at Gaza, the Israeli-Palestinian struggle became so futile in my mind. Why we couldn't just peacefully inhabit the same space baffled me in my naive, ideal mind.

Overall, I'm glad Young Judaea decided to take us to Sderot. We were exposed to an important part of Israel--it's damaged goods.

Not every party of Israel is Eilat, Jerusalem, and Tel Aviv. It is just as important that we see needy places like Sderot as it is we see beautiful Haifa and the Ein Gedi falls. And as much as I like to believe I'm always safe here in Israel, it's still important to be aware of the fact that terrorism exists.

Supporting the places that are the most affected by terrorism is crucial to maintaining the foundation of the state, for all of Israel is interconnected--when one place suffers, the rest of the country suffers.

Garin Arevim, the student-run volunteer group I joined, is planning on visiting Sderot soon to help paint bomb-shelters and improve the city. I'll be sure to post pictures when we do!

That's all for now...

ps. I'll be posting about my weekend in Qesarya sometime this week. Tune in soon to find out.

pps. I'm going to Poland!