Listen, please, as I tell you about my day. I live in the Abu Tor neighborhood of Jerusalem, which is a mixed neighborhood of Jews, Arabs, and Christians. In the past I’ve never had a problem one-on-one with neighbors, but there are a number of issues. In no small part, it’s about the neighbors a few streets over.
My street, Assaell, is in West Jerusalem. Mixed neighborhood. The very next street, Ein Rogel, is in East Jerusalem. From there on, the neighborhood is decidedly Arab only and walking there is much more tense for Jewish people.
During Ramadan, and celebration of matriculation tests being over, and other random days, the neighbors set off multiple illegal fireworks displays. I’m talking a few meters away from my third-floor balcony, on the same level, in a crowded urban area.
And another way they celebrate is by shooting guns in the street. They shoot the guns because it is fun, and also as a psychological tactic. It gets you used to the noise, whether you agree with it or not. “Oh, gunshots. The neighbors are just celebrating again, for some reason.” And so you assume you’re still safe. You don’t know whether the gunshots mean celebration or an attack. You’re so used to gunshots now. It’s impossible to know whether you’re safe or not.
These tactics have been thoroughly observed and understood for years.
Today, my neighbors are celebrating. They are setting off illegal fireworks a few streets over. They are shooting guns in the street. And around the Jerusalem region today, there have been multiple attempts at terrorist attacks. So many more near Gaza, an hour away, but it’s bleeding into my surroundings.
I am staying inside. I am playing with my two dogs. I am not taking them for walks. They go out on the balcony, thankfully large, where I’ve set up fake grass for them. But I am staying inside as they go out onto the balcony. I have a clear, beautiful view of East Jerusalem and fireworks and I’m close enough to hear the constant barrage of gunshots, including right now as I write this.
“They are just celebrating”, I tell myself. Just.
They are celebrating this war. They are celebrating the 700+ dead Israelis in the last two days, including over 250 unarmed civilians massacred by Hamas terrorists during an all-night desert rave near Kibbutz Re’im. Thousands who came to dance and have fun instead fled that party, as terrorists drove up on motorcycles and shot them and killed them and kidnapped them and tortured them.
And I read the news today from inside my locked apartment. And I worked as usual, because what else would I do? I researched feature updates for the upcoming releases and published new help articles for the QA team to check tomorrow. And I tried, for a few hours, to ignore the ongoing, unending news of deaths and attacks and missing people. But as I worked, I could still hear the gunshots and the fireworks. They were very pretty fireworks. They were very close.
In Ramallah today, the Palestinian Authority threw a parade celebrating Hamas. Celebrating the war. It reminds me of the parade they threw on 9/11, in 2001. My cousin, who lives half an hour away from me, saw them dancing in the streets that day and handing out candies to children. These children of 2001 are now adults. And today, they are celebrating.
If you have not lived in Israel, and particularly in or near Jerusalem or another area where conflict exists regularly, it is difficult to absorb and comprehend how very different these circumstances are than what most western civilizations assume would be going on (I say western because that is my own upbringing, and therefore what I have knowledge to speak on). What western civilization assumes about the basic decency of most humans is flawed, because it’s difficult to comprehend a society that grew up celebrating the death of their enemies joyfully, with fireworks and parades and candies, and hoping they will have the opportunity to do the same some day.
It is very different from what western newspapers and organizations tell you is happening.
But I hope you are listening. You cannot hear the gunshots I hear, not knowing whether neighbors are attacking or celebrating your people’s deaths. It’s impossible, from across the world, to hear them. But you can hear me.
And I can hear them. Another gunshot as I write this sentence. My lease is up in March. I will find another neighborhood, but they will still be here and they will still be shooting their guns.
As for the terrorist organization Hamas, I hope by next March we can say they are no more. I pray to God that we end them entirely.
ימח שמם וזכרם.
Yemach shemam v’zichram.
May their name and memory be erased.
And I pray to God that we are safe. That we can live through this and stay strong. I pray to God that we can still see the goodness and beauty of the Israeli people, as we are caught in this ugly, merciless war. As I read news of deaths and kidnappings and horrible attacks, I am overwhelmed by how many people have asked: How can we help? Where can we volunteer? What can we donate? Who needs a safe haven? Where is the blood donation? Who needs medicine? Who needs us to watch their children? Their pets? Who needs us to hold their hand? Who needs to know they are not alone?
This is the character of the Israeli people. As enemies attempt to destroy us, we come together and we give each other our support and love. It is always this way. We cannot be destroyed by something so terrible as war. We are a people that has lasted three thousand years, through unspeakable devastation. We are standing.
We will still be here when no one in the world remembers the name of Hamas. We will still be here when the world tries to kill us again.
עם ישראל חי.
Am Yisrael chai.
The people of Israel live.
