I’ve been thinking what to write. More little things, like getting a tseva adom (rocket alert) at the very end of an Alfred Hitchcock movie Friday so that we missed the ending. Had to wait until Saturday night to find out the ending. Big things, like the heart-breaking death of 4yo Daniel Treggerman. Sorry, can’t spell it from memory. Things like running for cover while oldest son was out getting the donkeys in the shed for the night. Older daughter ran to a window (dangerous/life-threatening) to call out to him to take cover, only what cover in the yard? The donkey shed has only a light tin roof. Still, better than nothing.
We’ve had some bad news, it appears that the landlord has sold the house right out from under us. Better news, the new owner theoretically wants to continue renting to us. Is that good news? The house is a P.O.S., the only reason we’ve stayed here in a non-accessible house at the end of nowhere is because we had intended to buy the place ourselves, so why would we stay to rent from someone who doesn’t even know who we are?
We started kicking around possibilities of alternative places to look for a home. TH says wryly that there are plenty of houses available in Eshkol. Heh, it is a community that is even closer to Gaza then we are. I’m not scared away by that, but I do think we need to cast a wide net, hoping to find someplace with a house that is big enough for all of us, at least marginally wheelchair accessible or able to be made so with minimal work and expense. Someplace with room for all of our critters, and neighbours who won’t object to same. Someplace that we can afford, and someplace that will not make our kids’ commute even harder than it is.
It doesn’t seem very likely, not even sure it is possible. So what if there are a few more bombs headed our way, or we are in range of mortar fire – especially if the new home actually has a safe room?
I’m a little bit bitter right now, don’t mind me.
And in the middle of all of this, I’m trying to get youngest son to a Magic the Gathering tournament in Jerusalem, someplace in the city that I’ve never been, only heard of. *I* can’t take him, TH absolutely must go in to the office that day. My brother has offered to take him, but he doesn’t know where to go either. Can I get any help with this? It seems I can not. I’m doing my best. I’m sure there are more people I could ask, but at a certain point one just gets tired of asking for help.
My driving lesson was cancelled for today because of all the bombs. I can’t get my van if I can’t get my license, I can’t get my license if I can’t learn to drive with a joystick. I can’t learn to drive if there is the chance of us getting blown up while driving around the moshav.
I’m failing to be calm, cool and collected while writing this. I am failing to be unemotional. I’m overwhelmed, upset, frustrated… I go to facebook and I can’t take it very much. Whether it is more bad news here in Israel, or more media propaganda, I just can’t take it anymore.
I’m crying, for the 4yo killed, for his mother who couldn’t save him, for us and our seriously f**ked up situation; crying out of frustration and, just, emotion. I am highly emotional. I don’t know why I feel I have to explain that being bombed can make one highly emotional. I’d think it would be self-evident.
And – to top it all off, I got an earful of my mother’s insanity last night. No, that’s not really fair. But I was *reminded* of my mother’s insanity and it was linked to what is going on here, with Hamas bombing us and blaming us for it, blaming us for the deaths of all those children they put in harm’s way by launching rockets right next to them, or under them. See, mother blames me for everything. Doesn’t matter what it is or whether it has any relation to reality. I am the bad guy in her life-story. Just ask her.
If one has any deep-seated traumas or unresolved issues, being bombed will bring it to the surface. If not immediately, then eventually. So it’s not all about what is happening here and now. There is a lifetime of emotions available to pile on to the current situation, making it feel bigger, worse, making me feel more trivial and more like I’m over-reacting.
As I read from someone else today, on an entirely different topic, I’m not over-reacting, I’m reacting. Being bombed. Sometimes I can take it with a lick of humour and stern resolve, sometimes I’m a cowering mess of hysteria. Sometimes I’m just putting one foot in front of the other, grateful that at least I am living a life where I don’t have to make up elaborate fictions to explain away reality because reality is here, right here, and not going anywhere. I don’t have to be afraid of the person in the mirror.
Sadly it seems that the people in Gaza also have no trouble looking in the mirror. Killing children, telling lies about it, deliberately putting innocents of their own people in mortal peril, doesn’t bother them. Many, perhaps most of them. It *is* cultural – but that doesn’t make it all right.
I’d like to go into more detail, but I also don’t want to go there. It’s all there, read about their culture, stealing as a way of life, kidnapping is business as usual, blood-feuds, murder. Also hospitality, a sense of honour — but you are a fool if you think it means the same thing as most anglos mean by the word, loyalty… It is a different world, with different assumptions, and cannot be judged by outsiders who only see (at best) the surface that they present to the world.
And if it is a clash of cultures, so be it. But seriously, does anyone really want to be championing a culture which sees death as the highest achievement, that believes that children are born to be sacrificed for their cause – whatever the cause might be. Is that a culture we want to be encouraging, supporting, carrying forward into the future?
Okay, I am using reason again. I know this isn’t a situation where reason holds sway. I can’t help it. I was not raised to believe that it is okay to tell any lie to someone not of my faith (as muslims are). I was raised to believe that there is no cause greater than saving or preserving a life. I stand against people who do everything they can to increase the numbers of dead and wounded, and with anyone who will attempt to prevent the same. Simple. So simple.
I find myself writing, in my head trying to reach a ‘friend’ of mine who expressed concerns about the ‘occupation,’ as if that makes any sense. As if that justifies the people killed and wounded, people herded onto the tops of buildings with weapons caches underneath, people who died, including children, building dozens of tunnels from Gaza into Israel.
Oh, I can’t go there! You cannot reach people who do not want to be reached. People who, having made a decision, close their minds against any new information coming in.
I’m rambling, lecturing, all the things I didn’t want to do in this blog, but the fact is that I am living with such stress that it can’t be imagined, believed or understood by outsiders, and I am trying in the midst of this to care for my children, to cope with the major life-changing stress of moving, and to be at least coherent, even if not glib and articulate.
There it is. I’ve got to make a phone call, trying once more to try and find some help to get youngest son where he is going tomorrow. I have to take a bath, and, well, just cope. I only make it ‘look’ easy. *wry grin*