Given “the situation”, it is not unreasonable to wonder how it is that we came back to Israel when we could have stayed in the relative safety of Toronto, or even Florida. We did not make the decision lightly, nor without some concern. As the fog of those first terrible weeks began to lift, our friends here were divided in their opinions. Some advised us to stay safe in Canada. Others felt we would be happier in Israel doing something practical, rather than sitting at home reading/watching the news and wringing our hands. In this they were right, even though the “doing something” did not materialize quite as I had imagined.
Our decision was, in many ways, due to a mix of emotions rather than reason: a feeling of solidarity with our people here, an irrational sense of guilt in having it easy when Israel was in such crisis, and a desire to make a contribution to the war effort (something my historian husband never thought we would say in our lifetime). We were also shocked at the ugliness in our home town, with mobs of pro-Hamas demonstrators breaking all kinds of hate laws with apparent impunity. (Not to mention the small matter of winter weather.) As it happened, by the time Air Canada was ready to be be flexible with our ticket, we couldn’t wait to leave. I should be clear that this did not require any special bravery on our part; by mid-November the situation on the ground was much safer, and our resilient fellow citizens were doing what they have been doing for the 75 years since the State was established; getting through yet another existential challenge.
When we got here, I knew that there would be a tremendous need for volunteers to do all kinds of work, especially helping to bring in the harvest. One of our friends pictured us gathering strawberries in the fields, and indeed I did hope I could do something along those lines. This romantic notion did not last long however. Strawberries are grown on the ground and apparently you need good knees for picking them; ladders (and balance) are needed for tree fruits; a car is needed to get to the farms; and so it went. This was not going to be so simple.
I then joined some friends who do a regular gig chopping vegetables in a professional kitchen preparing meals for soldiers. For this, I have the requisite skills. As it turned out, the kitchen was closed on the day that we went! Undeterred, I subsequently got into the kitchen’s WhatsApp group, only to find that all the volunteer spaces were booked out as far as the eye could see. They were however starting a farm harvest group…
So here is where I ended up:
This is the current home of “Eran’s Angels” a huge volunteer-run depot located in the underground parking lot of Building 1 at Tel Aviv’s Expo grounds. At one end of the lot they take in donations of both used and new items. In the pictured area, they sort the items into broad categories like childrens’ clothing (must be new), bed linens and towels (both new and used), adult clothing, toys, and so on. And from there it gets more granular. In the bedding and linens area where I usually work, the new items are destined for evacuees, and used items for soldiers in the field. Sheets, towels, blankets, pillowcases, comforters, and duvet covers are all sorted by size, then folded, packed and labeled so that orders can be filled efficiently.
Volunteers can come and go on their own schedule any time from 11:00-4:00 and there are lots of them. The first day I was there, I worked with a young woman from America who had taken three weeks vacation specifically to come over to volunteer. She is not by any means unique. There was another group of young men who were on an organized volunteer mission; and more and more groups like that show up every day. Often there are more volunteers than there is work.
There are pros and cons to working in a space like this during a war. On the one hand we are in an underground parking lot, so if there is a missile attack we are already effectively in a shelter: no need to make a mad dash to safety. On the other hand, the warning siren is also happens to be located right down there. These ear-splitting devices are designed to alert whole neighbourhoods to incoming rockets; and trust me when I say that you don’t want to be standing next to one when it goes off — which it did — the first day I was there. For our overseas volunteers, it was their first direct experience with the war, and they were very shaken up; unlike the Israelis who just kept working. And the booms of the interceptions were also louder than usual, which didn’t help.
We found out later that there was good reason that the interceptions sounded so close. They were. The rockets actually came further north than usual, as far as Hertzliya. School was just out, so the kids hit the ground just as they are trained to do. Somehow, in all the reporting on the Gaza war, most of the media neglects to mention that in addition to holding the rest of the hostages, Hamas is still firing rockets at Israel: emerging from somewhere in their 300 miles of underground tunnels where they have stored massive amounts of weaponry.
The last time I went to the Eran’s Angels depot, the oversupply of volunteers was official, and I had nothing to do. This is actually a good news story, as Jews from all over the world are now coming in droves to help out. But before them came the cowboys. Yes, cowboys! I am not sure how many of you have seen this story, but they made quite an impression here. https://www.jns.org/american-cowboys-work-the-israeli-heartland/
However, I was going to have to find somewhere else to contribute. Luckily, my local community centre (home of my yoga classes, Zumba, and 5K walking group) has come to the rescue. In coordination with the city, they have arranged for us to travel to a farm to sort and pack produce, which I am assured is a very age appropriate activity. We leave at 6:30 in the morning. The first session is next Tuesday, and I’ll let you know how it goes. To be continued…