MAY 14 • 2020 | 33
N
obody in Israel’
s Gaza
Envelope communities
can quite remember
when the last escalation round
with Hamas occurred. “Was it
last August…? No, we’
ve had
some rockets falling later than
that. December? Yes. It was
December,
” Adi Batan-Meiri
recalls.
The 32-year-old has been liv-
ing near the Gaza border for over
a decade, climbing all the way
from a first-year student studying
media at Sapir College in the
Negev, to her current, sleep-
deprived role as the spokesper-
son of Sha’
ar HaNegev Regional
Council.
“People think that because we
are so-called ‘
used’
to lockdowns,
then we are somehow more
immune to this new situation
that was imposed on us with the
coronavirus. This couldn’
t be fur-
ther from the truth,
” she says.
What has become clearer amid
the global pandemic, she claims,
is that people living in the Gaza
Envelope communities have lost
hope completely.
“Even before this outbreak
— namely after March’
s elec-
tion — it was obvious that the
government has accepted the
absurd situation in Israel’
s South.
That every few months we will
suffer from rockets, accept it and
move on,
” she says. “
And as if this
wasn’
t bad enough, the corona
came.
”
MENTALLY EXHAUSTED
With more than 15,000 con-
firmed COVID-19 cases and
over 200 deaths in Israel as of
April 30, Israelis living within
Hamas’
missile range are afraid
the coronavirus will be the last
straw that would break their oth-
erwise-ingrained sturdiness.
Yam Braude-Amitai and her
husband have been living near
the Gaza border their entire lives.
Born in a kibbutz under constant
security threat, Braude-Amitai
never doubted wanting to build a
home in the area. Until now.
“People keep asking why we
just don’
t get up and leave. It’
s not
that simple,
” she explains.
After living and working in
various countries around the
world, changing location is no
threat to the 33-year-old com-
munity relations manager. But it’
s
not the move she’
s afraid of.
“
A stranger won’
t understand.
Even if we leave, our parents are
here, our friends are here. It’
s not
like the concerns will magically
vanish. Our entire lives are root-
ed in this place, and if it’
s not us
who are under threat, then it’
s all
of our loved ones,
” she explains.
The election results, howev-
er, which came weeks after the
area was shelled with rockets yet
again, sowed doubt in her mind.
“We don’
t have to live here,
” she
says. “It’
s an active choice, and
one that I get more and more
hesitant about with time.
”
Even before the coronavirus
outbreak, the sense of communal
strength was starting to crack.
“People are just exhausted,
”
Batan-Meiri shares. “We don’
t
know what to tell our kids any-
more, which excuses to pull from
the hat this time. Even we have
our mental limits.
”
NO ALERTING SIRENS
Roughly 65,000 people live in
the Gaza Envelope communities,
according to the Israel Central
Bureau of Statistics. But hun-
dreds of thousands more live
within the missile range, includ-
ing more than 220,000 in the
coastal city of Ashdod, and over
145,000 in the city of Ashkelon,
located merely 10 miles from the
Gaza Strip border.
“You could almost say that the
corona crisis has added insult to
injury,
” says Sapir Fischer, who
moved from Sderot to Ashkelon
a few years ago. Not seeing many
people on the street is one thing,
she says, “but at least during
escalation times we can still hang
out with friends or visit our fam-
ilies.
”
Her 5-year-old daughter
understands why she can’
t go
outside to play. “She’
s used to it,
”
Fischer says with a smile, “but
now I also have to explain to her
why we can’
t see grandma or go
to kindergarten.
”
Batan-Meiri shares the same
feelings. The coronavirus out-
break was able to catch even her
off-guard. “Give me rockets over
corona any day,
” she laughs. “
At
least that’
s a crisis we’
ve learned
how to masterfully manage.
”
While neither Fischer nor
Batan-Meiri have plans to leave
the area, Braude-Amitai is more
hesitant. Today, with two small
daughters, she’
s no longer certain
of the life she chose for them and
herself.
“We grew up on the notion
that what we’
re doing is, in fact,
the new Zionism,
” she says. “But
when my partner tells me none
of this is worth my fear, my anx-
iety, I don’
t know what to answer
him. Could be that he’
s right?
“We’
ve built our home here;
our daughters were born here,
”
she adds, as a tear starts running
down her cheek. “But if another
siren goes off now, in the midst
of all this, I don’
t know what I’
ll
do. I love this area to death —
but I wouldn’
t want this meta-
phor to become reality.
”
Eretz
DANA REGEV
DANA REGEV
Dana Regev
Life in the
Gaza Envelope
Between rockets, elections and coronavirus,
life on the Gaza border must go on.
DANA REGEV CONTRIBUTING WRITER
Adi Batan-Meiri
Yam Braude-Amitai, at home in Kibbutz Erez, with daughters Guy (5) and Yuval (3).