Diaspora aid gives hope and respite during daily attacks.
Sderot Police Chief Haim Boublil shows stacks of spent Kassams that exploded in the area.
Keri Guten Cohen
Story Development Editor
Editor's note: Keri Cohen was part of a
United Jewish Communities press mission
to Israel in early August.
Sderot, Israel
L
ast summer's Second Lebanon
War lasted 34 days, and then
the Katyusha rockets stopped.
Trauma and hardships lingered but, one
year later, life has regained a semblance of
normalcy in northern Israel.
However, for the 40,000 residents of
Sderot and the nearby kibbutzim and
moshavim in the south of Israel, normalcy
is defined by the Kassam rockets launched
almost daily for seven years from nearby
Gaza and by the uncertainty of life under
such constant bombardment.
It seems more than fitting that $6.5 mil-
lion of the $360 million raised last year
during the Israel Emergency Campaign
(IEC) by North American Jewish federa-
tions, including $15 million from Detroit,
should benefit this besieged region. A vari-
ety of respite, educational and economic
programs is giving some much-needed
relief.
Impossible Situation
Over seven years, 6,000 Kassams have
fallen on Sderot and the surrounding area.
18
August 30 • 2007
The remains of the 400 that hit inside the
city have been retrieved and stacked on
shelves behind the police station, a grow-
ing pile of deadly twisted metal. The crude
rockets, packed with gunpowder, nails
and ball bearings, are inaccurate weapons
without any guidance system. Fortunately,
only 11 people have been killed, but more
than 4,000 have been injured or suffer
from anxiety.
Shimon Peretz, Sderot's director general,
is concerned about his city of 24,000,
which has seen about 20 percent of its
wealthier citizens leave. Though unem-
ployment is low, thanks to some major
businesses that located nearby, the poor
economy and unsafe conditions have deci-
mated the town's small businesses. In the
last 18 months, 370 of 450 have closed.
People in Sderot speak of commitment
to their homes, but also admit they are
tired of the constant stress and danger.
Social worker Aharon Polat, who works
at an unfortified trauma clinic in Sderot,
talks of the high divorce rate, the dif-
ficulties students have with studying, the
constant uncertainty of where Kassams
might fall.
"You can't always help the people,
especially because the situation stays the
same' said Polat, whose clinic received
some IEC funds. "Day after day, you see
people die; day after day you see people
hurt and think it could happen to me. It's
very hard."
In the region, bitterness toward the
Israeli government is commonplace. In
fact, road signs painted in red Hebrew
letters spell out the sentiment: "We are
staying here because we are connected
to the soil. But shortly we will be bur-
ied inside. Thank you, [Prime Minister
Ehud] Olmert."
People feel neglected by the govern-
ment. For example, the government forti-
fied schools in Shaar HaNegev only after
parents initiated a strike. The day they
kept their children home from school,
a Kassam landed in a classroom, says
elementary school principal Anat Regev.
"What country would leave its chil-
dren to get so many missiles and have
them be afraid?" she asked. "The situa-
tion is we're quite neglected, and it's not
a way to live for seven years. Children
have the right to learn quietly, without
running all the time. Diaspora Jews
grasp it more quickly than the govern-
ment."
No Place For Children
In Sderot and nearby communities, some
children know no other life than one
colored by falling Kassams. Every child
knows the drill. You hear "tzeva adore the
"red color" warning announcement, and
you run quickly for shelter. You only have
6-20 seconds before impact, depending on
how close you are to Gaza.
If there's no time, you crouch against
an exterior wall of a building or enter any
house and look for shelter. If all else fails,
you flatten yourself on the ground, cover
your head and hope for the best.
Children in these communities don't
play more than a few yards from their
doorsteps. They don't ride bikes. Their
parents worry about schools that are not
adequately fortified.
This summer, 8,200 children from the
region enjoyed day or overnight camps
outside of missile range where they could
escape the stress and live normally for a
while. The camps were operated by the
Jewish Agency for Israel, with help from
$1.4 million in IEC funds.
The Sdot Negev Regional Council near
Sderot hosted one of the day camps.
Though safe and having fun, everyone still
had a Kassam story to tell.
Rivka Rosenfeld, 11, recalls July 8, 2006,
a day when many Kassams fell. "It was
7:45 a.m., and we were waiting for a bus to
camp:' she said. "A siren sounded and we
all shouted and waited near a wall. Then
we went back and got on the bus. There
was another siren and another. We ran to
a building. I told a boy to lie down. We all
know what to do, but it was frightening.
Here at camp, we feel free and we don't
have to think where to hide all the time'
Though children are prepared, "red
color" alerts still are scary and disorient-
ing. To stem the confusion while at school
and turn the trauma into a small victory, a