Mitzpe Ramon (Ramon Lookout) is a town overlooking a natural wonder, Makhtesh Ramon. Geologically it is what’s called a box canyon. As we were informed by a teacher at a school we visited, it is not technically a crater, though often called one. This small, dusty town has had a renaissance in recent years with the building of a new boutique hotel called Beresheet. I had actually bookmarked it as a unique place to stay on a future trip even though I had visited the Makhtesh decades ago. I didn’t think my return visit would be at a time like this.
It is a stunningly beautiful area and in better times would have been lively with tourists and backpackers. But the once bustling youth hostel is now home to hundreds of evacuated members of Kibbutz Erez. The dining room is now the kibbutz cafeteria and meeting area. The basement meeting rooms are now a gan (preschool). Bags of donations lined the sidewalks along with children’s toys and bikes.
Erez was one of the lucky ones. The terrorists did not manage to infiltrate. At the gate we saw this sign, “Ein Li Erez Acheret: I have no other Erez.” It is a play on a popular Israeli song entitled, “Ein li Eretz Acheret” I have no other Land.
To read one story of the heroism that saved the kibbutz you can read the Jerusalem Post article here.
And temple member, Tali Gilberg, a former bat mitzvah student of mine, recounts her miraculous escape here.
Kibbutz Erez has a special relationship with Greater MetroWest. It is what is known as a Partner Community, one of several in Israel in that area. The connection was formed after the Second Intifada (2000-2005) because Greater MetroWest wanted to help a community on the front line of the rocket attacks that were occurring every day
We met with Michal Zur, Director of the Greater MetroWest office and a Kibbutz Erez member, on a beautiful outcropping overlooking the Makhtesh. It was a chance to take a group arrival photo and hear her thoughts before we met with Moran, the sister of fallen hero, Amir Naim, as well as other kibbutz members who would tell their stories. According to Michal, living in Erez was like living in a bubble. It was a community of people who believed in peace and coexistence. “I thought people in Gaza were like me. People who just wanted to raise their children and live in peace. Today I don’t know.” Not only was their faith in a peaceful solution shaken, their faith in the government and army was also challenged. We heard this refrain throughout our mission. She shared a newly composed poem, “Kaddish” by poet Asaf Gur on what Israelis call, “Shabbat Shachor” or Dark Shabbat. The searing and raw poem flatly states, “There is no government. There is no mercy.” A complete translation of the poem can be found here.
(Michal Zur)
We ate a typical Israeli breakfast of vegetables and cheese on a patio where only a few weeks ago college kids smoked, drank coffee and played guitar. We met first with Sagit Levi who was in charge of initiating the emergency first responders squad. When the alarms went off at 6:30 AM, miraculously by gut instinct she decided to open up the emergency situation room before anyone even knew what was going on. That room wasn’t typically opened for the usual rocket fire. That instinct and that five minutes before the terrorists arrived at the gate saved the kibbutz because the emergency squad of responders was able to get weapons and communication systems going and take up positions. Squad member Amir Naim, a combat engineer by training, was shot very early in the attack by a sniper and was brought to the situation room. He was in bad shape. She called the IDF multiple times but no one answered. They called Magein David Adom but no one could come. She paused, “Then we understood we were on our own.” This is a theme we would hear again and again. In the critical moment, no one came from the army. No one could help these kibbutzim and citizens except themselves. She repeated several times, “No one comes.” When the Shin Bet finally came four or five hours later they didn’t know what was going on or even bring clips of bullets, the residents had to fill the magazine clips for them with single bullets by hand. “We had a huge luck with few resources, but we had human resources.”
The early days of the evacuation to Mitzpe Ramon were about listening and providing security but by the time we got there the people were trying to resume a kind of “emergency” routine and return to some kind of regular life. A nursery school. Work spaces. Oren Anoch, community manager, said, “We don’t want to feel like refugees.” The members are looking at multiple time frames: short, medium and long. “The members believe in us. They believe in the community. They believe in what we are doing.” The proof of that is that 80% of the community came to Mitzpe Ramon and didn’t disperse to other areas of the country.
We also heard from Amnon Zarka, Chair of the kibbutz. He is a weathered, older man who looks every inch a Sabra. He has four children and six grandchildren in the Kibbutz. He described the transition of the community to their new location in Mitzpe. “It’s a very proud community, “ he said. And though the losses at Erez were not to the level of the other kibbutzim, some of whom lost 10% of their members, there is still a sense of insecurity, fear and a loss of faith in the government and the IDF. “The compass is always northwest to Erez, to go back to Erez,” he added. “It’s possible there are people who would go back to Erez right now. There are others who need to process what happened and need security. The return may take a number of waves. People have strong feelings of home and belonging that may overcome the fear and worry.” He believes that with the help of the State, donors, and their own hands they can return to Erez renewed for the long-term. The land is in their hearts. Amnon noted that these terrorists chose to attack the core of Jewish settlement in order to shake up the entire country. “If we’re frightened about it, it lets them win. We won’t let them win. Not because we care about them, but because we care about us.” He also has left his previous co-existence leanings behind. “It’s a zero sum game now. It’s us or them.”
(Kibbutz Chair Amnon Zarka)
But Michal chimed in, “There’s no one in Israel today, the government, the Army, that can tell me it’s over and I’m safe. And it breaks my heart.” According to her, the community vacillates between wanting to go back immediately and never wanting to go back.
So how do they go on? Vered Shpirer, chair of the Greater MetroWest partnership, shared that she used to ask her great-grandmother how she survived Bergen-Belson. And the answer was, “Get through one day. And then another day.” One day at a time. “I can do that.” she said and then added poignantly, “We said ‘Never Again’ and ‘Never Again’ happened.”
We got a chance to see the toddlers at the newly opened gan (nursery school).The older children have just gone back to school for a few hours each day at a new facility that opened up a few days before we arrived. Artist turned principal, Yael Biber-Aviad, is a volunteer from Tel Aviv who left her family to come and start this school for the Erez children.
She is a visionary. You can read about her challeges in founding a “Democratic” school in Tel Aviv here.
She was given an empty school of the arts which shares a campus with another small school. She is taking art rooms with ballet barres and mirrors and quickly transforming them into learning centers. She’s creating technology centers and most importantly an education that centers around what each child needs psychologically to move forward. The awareness of the needs of traumatized children was a theme throughout our mission. She called this the, “Pedagogy of trauma.” At first the children could only be in school for three hours. Then they seemed ok and another fifteen minutes was added. The goal is to reach a full school day but only by moving slowly. Another example: the traumatized children have trouble sitting still at their desks, they need to move. Giant bean bags and squishy sofas are scattered all around the classrooms and halls. Children can go and sit or get up and move. What struck me most was the Hebrew phrase she used to describe what’s going on both in Mitzpe but also all over Israel, “He pulled himself up by his own hands,” is the Hebrew idiom for pulling yourself up by your bootstraps. They’re not waiting for rescue. They’re not waiting on bureaucrats or government plans that take months and years. They see what needs to be done and they simply do it. Now. This can-do spirit, the spirit of the halutzim (the Pioneers) is very much alive right now in this desperate hour.
(Principal Yael Biber-Aviad in front of the new Erez school for displaced children).