Taking You Into the War
This is just too compelling not to share . . . .
Lisa has gone to the trouble of uploading a 25-minute news segment from Israeli television, in which . . . well, here’s Lisa’s description:
[Veteran Journalist] Itai Anghel accompanied regiment 931 of the Nahal Brigade (infantry) to a battle that took place on the night of August 6-7 in Houleh, a Hezbollah-controlled village in Lebanon that is about 2 kilometres north of the border with Israel. Anghel documents the fierce battle that took place using a camera equipped with a night vision lens. I think it is quite possibly the most significant piece of reporting to come out of the war.
Itai generously sent me a link to his report that includes English subtitles. You can watch it below (length, 25 minutes).
A few things to know before you watch: With the exception of the officers – Avi Dahan and Biche – all the soldiers are reservists in their 20′s and 30′s who did their three-year mandatory army service (ages 18-21) in the unit; in other words, they are civilians who responded to emergency call up notices. A small bit that was edited out includes an exchange between Itai and the reservist with glasses, during which the latter explains that in civilian life he lives on a kibbutz and leads nature hikes. There are a couple of minor errors in the translation but they don’t detract from the impact of the report, which is compelling and intense. Note especially Itai’s observation, in voice over narration, at the very end. (I won’t spoil it for you, but I think it says a lot about how people can draw very differing conclusions from the same events).
Eli Lake wrote an article about the report for the New York Sun, here.
The segment is in Hebrew with English subtitles, but still best watched with the sound on.
Israelity has agreed not to post the video here. Hop on over to Lisa’s site and watch it there – it is 25 minutes well spent.
The Summer of the War and the Ugly Shoes
[Allison is "up to her neck in kids" and asked me to cross-post this entry from her personal blog, on her behalf. -- Sarah]
In this last week of the summer of 2006 (five and a half more days till school starts, but who’s counting?)
Everyone seems a little dazed, the way you feel after stepping off of a ride in an amusement park that had you spinning around, not knowing what to expect next. We’re no longer spinning, but we don’t have our balance, and we’re not sure it’s over. I’m wondering if it’s safe to reflect yet.
When I try, and I start to look back on what I’ve been through personally, I’ll think of it as the summer of utter dissonance.
On one level, on the surface of it all, for me and most other residents of greater Tel Aviv, it was a summer like any other. The kids went to camp, the afternoons and evenings were spent at the pool, the park or the mall.
It was possible to have a perfectly pleasant, perfectly normal summer. You had to pay attention to the details to see that something was terribly wrong. You had to notice that the pool was crowded with strangers from Kiryat Shmona and Nahariya, who would leave the pool and the play area to glance anxiously at the television set.
In order to remain “normal” you would have to ignore the requests for donations of sheets and towels for those who were camping out in town from the north, or for deodorant and socks to send to soldiers. You would have to be insensitive enough not to see the looks of worry and stress on the face of every fourth or fifth person you passed on the street who had a father, son or brother on the front lines, or overhear their conversations in the coffee shops and supermarket.
And, of course, you would have had to stay away from the newspapers, television, and computers. Because once you broke out of your bubble and entered the world of current events, that was it. You became bogged down in a world of stress and worry. The smiling faces of the civilian victims in Israel, the many young soldiers whose promising lives were cut short stared at you from the pages of the newspaper and the evening news haunted you, along with the terrible pictures from Lebanon — photo-shopped, staged, or not, awful tragic things happened there, too.
Repeatedly, I felt the dilemma of whether to live happily in the moment and enjoy my kids and the summer — or check the news and the blogs and enter the sphere of sadness and the fear and the concern. That’s when I would start putting pillows and blankets in the bomb shelter and stocking it with snacks and water.
Which was the real world? What was the right one to live in at any given day, minute or hour? That’s the tension I’ll remember when I think of this summer.
And I’ll also associate the summer with a certain kind of shoe. The ugly, comfortable plastic colorful kind.
The two subjects are somewhat related, I think. With all of the worry and the stress, we figured we might as well be comfortable, so we said: the hell with fashion (sorry, Manolo)
It was the summer of the war and the summer of Crocs.
What do they call English muffins in England?
In response to a news article about the fruit-and-vegetable-eating habits of Israelis, Raanana Ramblings well, rambles . . . riffs, really . . . about the fruit and vegetable habits in her house. Here is an “immigrant moment” highlight:
. . . . I mentioned Israeli salad earlier- that reminds me of the time we were at a party some friends were hosting- it was a buffet, and there were different salads displayed. I mentioned that the salat Yisraelit looked good.
One of the other partygoerss looked at me, amused. “You know, we don’t call it that-we just say salat.” I felt kind of silly- I hadn’t been in the country that long and didn’t realize that OF COURSE Israelis wouldn’t call their basic salad by the name given to it by foreigners in other countries! Doh!
Classic Israeli Salad
Everything in perspective
It’s been incredibly hot in Israel — even in Jerusalem, which is supposed to be more pleasant than Tel Aviv because it is “dry heat,” it’s been an oven — but Gavriel’s daughter doesn’t seem to mind:
Miriam and I were hiding under the shade of an umbrella at the beach.
“Right, Abba [Daddy], on that planet closest to the sun it’s too hot and we’d burn up?”
I turned to Miriam and nodded.
“And right, on the farthest away planet it’s so cold we’d freeze?”
Another smiling nod.
“So in Eretz Israel (the Land of Israel) it’s not so bad.”
Interesting observation for a 5-year-old. I still thought it was a
tad warm for comfort, though.
The Bitter and the Sweet
This post by a blogger in Jerusalem sums up so much:
I visited this guy in the hospital a week ago,
his APC was hit by a rocket and his legs are in terrible shape. He was part of the team that brought out the bodies of the soldiers that were killed in Bent Jbail, including Amichai, a friend of his. That same day I had to make a horrible decision; go to a memorial ceremony for a friend’s brother who was killed, or go to an engagement party for my wife’s friend. I couldnt do both since they were on seperate sides of the country. I ended up missing a ride to the memorial so I went to the engagement. It was probably for the good since I was so depressed after the hosital visit. I stopped at my friends grave in Eli on Friday. They haven’t put a stone on yet, so it is just dirt with a little sign that says his name, rank, and date of death. Then a friend and I went to visit his parents and talk to them. His father wasnt home, but his mom was, and she seemed to appreciate our visit. My friend brought a framed picture of our unit with Amichai in the middle. Tonight I am going to a wedding. In a few weeks I have a memorial ceremony on Sunday and a wedding on Monday.
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