Not just any third birthday
Filed under: A New Reality, General, Israeliness, Life, Religion, War
One of the most quickly forgotten aspects following any terror attack is the survivors. We all mourn the victims, obsess about the perpetrators, and move on, as those left behind attempt to pick up the pieces of their lives.
Three-year-old Moishe Holzberg has proven to be the exception. A year ago, Moishe’s parents, Rabbi Gavriel Holzberg, 29, and his wife Rivka, 28, were killed along with 170 other victims when Pakistani Islamic terrorists raided the Chabad house in Mumbai, India. The Holzbergs had lived in Mumbai for six years as official emissaries of the Chabad movement.
The two-year-old life of Moishe was saved when he was spirited away from the attack by his Indian nanny Sandra Samuel. He’s been raised at Kfar Chabad near Tel Aviv by his grandparents for the last year. And on Wednesday, the community hosted a memorial ceremony for the couple, which was attended by 2,000 people. During the event, Moishe celebrated his first haircut, a coming-of-age event for three-year-old boys, known as an “upshirin” in Yiddish or “chalaka” in Hebrew.
“Moshe may be without biological parents, but the entire Chabad family has adopted him,” the head of the Chabad Youth Organization in Israel, Rabbi Yosef Aharonov, told The Jerusalem Post which attended the event.
Across a blue-grey curtain on the wall of the womens’ section of the tent, dozens of blue and white balloons spelled out “Moishe, three years old.” Moishe himself was carried in by Sandra shortly before the beginning of the event, and stood before a gaggle of reporters and cameras, calmly, even lazily, taking in the spectacle.
Rabbi Holzberg’s father, Rabbi Nachman Holzberg, said that the outpouring of support for his family has been tremendous over the past year, and that Moishe was doing very well. Holzberg also expressed his hope that the tragedy “will only bring the entire world closer to redemption.”
Samuel, surrounded by a sea of reporters and swarmed by well-wishers from the moment she entered with Moishe, said that she was feeling a mix of emotions at the event, both great happiness that Moishe was doing well and sadness at the fact that his parents could not be with him.
Samuel said that “the baby is fine, he’s a normal kid, he plays, he jumps.”
With a mixture of sadness and joy, which, after all, is a regular recipe in Israel, the shortened lives of the Holzbergs and the hopefully long life of their son Moishe was celebrated in the only way Israeli know how – with all their hearts.
The week that was
Filed under: A New Reality, Crime, General, Israeliness, Life, War
The pace of news events developing and exploding into headlines is always seemingly propelled by steroids here in Israel. There’s never a minute to rest, and the news addiction that most of the public suffers from isn’t helped any by half hour radio bulletins, that annoying beep beep beep of the hourly news reports and nightly hour-long TV newscasts that are holy in some households.
But even veteran observers are hard pressed to remember a week of news events – aside from wars and intifadas – that rolled in like a tsunami, pushing the previous one off the front page with an ease that is creepy and disconcerting.
First up at the beginning of the week was the disclosure that police had arrested an American immigrant – Yaakov Teitel – a resident of a West Bank outpost on suspicion of murdering two Palestinians in 1997 and carrying out a string of previously unsolved hate attacks against other targets, including planting a pipe bomb outside the home of prominent left-wing Israeli professor Zeev Sternhall which injured him, and sending a bomb package to a family of messianic Jews from Ariel, seriously wounding their 15-year-old son.
This was huge news and the media covered it from every angle, from settlements spawning extremism to questioning whether the Law of Return which enables all Jews to immigrate to Israel should be reconsidered, or at least more stringent.
But no sooner had we started to digest this horrific news, Israelis were presented with something even more uncomprehensible the next day. The police announced they had caught the suspect in the brutal murder of six members of a Russian immigrant family in Rishon Lezion last month. It was considered the worst murder case in Israel’s history, with many pundits speculating that it involved the Russian mafia and a hired killer.
However, police said that the suspect, Damian Karlik, 38, who was arrested with his wife, parents and two other female relatives, killed the Oshrenko family because he had been fired as a waiter a couple months earlier from the family’s restaurant.
Dmitry Oshrenko fired Karlik, who was headwaiter at the Oshrenkos’ high-end restaurant Premier, after accusing him of stealing a bottle of vodka. Karlik said he felt humiliated and began to nurture his hatred for his former boss. Expressing no remorse at the murders, which included two young children, Krilik allegedly bragged to the police that he was a “bad motherfu**er.”
Disoriented at the front pages of our newspapers being turned into True Crimes magazine, we felt things returning to ‘normal’ yesterday with the disclosure of a dramatic high seas capture by Israeli naval commandos off the coast of Cyprus of the “Francop”, an Antigua-flagged freighter packed with 3,000 Iranian rockets and shells headed for Hizbullah in Lebanon.
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If it had achieved reaching its destination, the shipment would have provided Hizbullah with almost the entire rocket arsenal they unleashed against Israel in the 2006 Second Lebanon War.
Israeli sources say the shipment violates not only the UN Security Council resolutions from the 2006 war, but also those that forbid Iran from engaging in any arms exports. More importantly, it shows how Iran is attempting to incite the region, coming a day after Hamas in Gaza tested an Iranian-supplied rocket that has a range to reach Tel Aviv.
But hey, these are headlines that we’re familiar with -Iran, rockets, terror. However, by this morning, I found myself yearning for one of those days when the worst thing that could happen was The York Yankees winning the World Series, or narrow-minded citizens from my home state of Maine repealing same sex marriages. Both of those items are indeed reflections of a sorry state of affairs, but I’ll take them over the world gone crazy pace of news events we’ve had to put up with this week here in Israel.
Picture of the week: Finding friendship in the ruins of war
Israel is a country of contradictions. While the world outside sees the conflict in the clean crisp black and white of headlines, here in Israel we tend to see things in myriad shades of grey.
Take these two kids for example. Maria Aman (in the wheelchair) is a Palestinian girl from Gaza who was hit by an Israeli rocket during operation Cast Lead. Orel Ilizrov, is an Israeli child from Beersheva who was left with severe brain damage after he was hit by a grad missile fired from Gaza in the same conflict.
Against all the odds, they are best friends.
Maria was left paralyzed when her house suffered a direct hit. Four of her family were killed. Orel, an only child, is lucky to be alive. His mother threw herself on top of him in an attempt to protect him from the missile.
The children were hospitalized at the Alin Rehabilitative Center in Jerusalem and were given neighboring beds. Despite the traumas that both suffered, they ignored the conflict – as kids so rightly do – and formed a deep friendship based on everything they have in common, and not everything that keeps them apart.
Photo by Nati Shohat/Flash90
Nice sentiments help Obama win the Nobel
I went away for a few days camping and came back to discover that President Barack Obama had won the Nobel peace prize. I was so surprised that I wondered briefly if while I’d been away I had got stuck in some kind of time warp, and a whole year had gone by.
And the prize goes to... President Obama meets Israeli PM Bibi Netanyahu and Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas in an effort to push forward peace. Photo by Avi Ohayon/GPO/Flash 90
It seemed a far more likely explanation than that the Nobel prize committee had actually decided to award a US president, in power for just a twinkle of the eye, with a peace prize for doing – nothing actually.
I’m a fan of Obama, and I admire what he stands for and the promise he holds. But that’s all we’ve got so far – just a promise, and a few statements about peace and goodwill to all men.
The peace committee said the prize was “for his extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and cooperation between peoples”, while Time Magazine added that it was “primarily for his work on and commitment to nuclear disarmament.” From where I sit, however, with Iran threatening to blow Israel off the planet and fast approaching the nuclear capacity to do just that, Obama’s sugary wish to disarm the world seems pretty frivolous.
I don’t often agree with Republicans, but Michael Steel, chairman of the Republican National Committee got it right when he said: “What has President Obama actually accomplished? It is unfortunate that the president’s star power has outshined tireless advocates who made real achievements working toward peace and human rights.”
Here in this region of the world, where conflict is in your face, and peace seems so elusive and unattainable, there are many people working on the frontlines of the peace movement who really do deserve a prize.
They face the conflict every single day, and still continue working for change, even at great cost to themselves.
What about Dr. Izzeldin Abuelaish , the Palestinian doctor who lost his children in the bombing in Gaza, and still campaigns for peace? What about the founders of Parent’s Circle , an organization set up by Israelis and Palestinians who lost loved ones in the conflict but use their bereavement to fight ardently for peace, people like Robi Damelin, who wrote a public letter to Ynet warning of the terrible cost of the intifada as talk grows of the possibility of a new third intifada breaking out in Israel?
What about the dozens and dozens of peace organizations here where Jews and Arabs work side by side, bringing people together, and trying to create a different reality. Every one of us could cite an example. These people aren’t just making nice speeches about peace, they are actually out there making it.
If we are really lucky, in four years from now, Obama will actually deserve a Nobel peace prize, but as we all know, nice sentiments don’t always lead to action. In the meantime, couldn’t the Norwegians find someone who’s actually achieved something?
A video of Gilad
The news that Hamas is going to hand over a one-minute video tape of captive IDF soldier Gilad Schalit has been dominating the news today.
According to the Egyptian and German teams that helped broker the deal that will see 20 Palestinian female prisoners released from Israeli jails in exchange for the tape, it will provide enequivocal evidence that Schalit, who has been in captivity for more than three years, is alive and reasonably well.
It will be the first time that Schalit’s family will be seeing images of Gilad since he was captured in Gaza by Palestinian gunmen.
While it’s a far cry from seeing him released, I’m sure the family will be spending sleepless nights until they receive the tape on Friday. They issued a statement Wednesday night saying, “We wish to stress that although this is a first step in the right direction, the family will not rest until Gilad is freed after almost 1,200 days in which he has been held in a Hamas prison. Both sides must continue the determined process that has recently begun until the final result is quickly achieved.”
It’s bound to be quite a shock when they do finally see the video, as it’s certain that the Gilad Schalit who’s been held prisoner for so long will bear little resemblance to the 18-year-old boy that the country has come to know as their own in the ensuing three years.
The intensity with which the story was covered on Wednesday reflected the emotional baggage the entire country carries with it having lived with the burden of one of its soldiers held prisoner. In times like this, it’s almost safe to say that the cliche that we’re all one country is really true.
Let’s hope the release of the Gilad Schalit video is beginning of movement that will quickly see the release of Gilad Schalit, the human being.
Tarantino takes a stab at Israel
Filed under: A New Reality, General, Movies, Pop Culture, War
Quentin Tarantino in Tel Aviv tries to get a waiter's attention. (Photo: AP)
The lauded filmmaker was making his first trip here to promote the Israeli premiere of his latest film “Inglourious Basterds,” his typically violent, quirky World Warr II-based epic that depicts a fictional Jewish-American band of vigilantes who take revenge on Nazis
Wearing an AC/DC shirt, Tarantino met reporters in Tel Aviv on Tuesday and said that the most important part of his visit was to gauge the Israeli audience’s reaction to the boundary-breaking film.
In an AP report, Tarantino called the bloodbath of the Nazi characters a different brand of World War II film.
“To me, taboos are made to be broken. They’re meant to be pushed over,” Tarantino said. “One of the things that I think is a drag a little bit about movies dealing with World War II for the last 20 years is that … all the movies have really focused in on the victimization of World War II.”
“I’ll be seeing it for the first time in an Israeli cinema. I’ll be seeing it for the first time with an Israeli audience,” Tarantino said. “I’m interested to see, ‘OK, are there laughs here? Does the suspense work here as well as it works somewhere else?’”
Appearing with Christoph Waltz, who plays a Nazi in the film, and Lawrence Bender, the film’s producer, Tarantino insisted that the film was an adventure story and not a Holocaust film.
It’s a bunch-of-guys-on-a-mission movie.” In writing it, he said, “I wasn’t influenced by Holocaust movies, I was influenced by adventure films.”
The Jerusalem Post reported that when asked why he made the character of the Nazi colonel played by Waltz (and nicknamed the Jew Hunter) so charming, Tarantino said, “I don’t judge my characters. I’m always surprised by my characters. Each of them has his reasons why. There are no heroes or villains [in the film].”
When a reporter wanted to know what the moral of his film was, Tarantino laughed. “I’m not a moralist. I don’t believe in morals.”
We Israelis are a tad touchy on the Holocaust subject, so Tarantino, who also visited Yad Vashem on his stay here, may be in for a few surprises at the screening on Thursday. However, most reviews agree that the overly gory film is more of an adventure film that won’t offend an Holocaust sensibilities.
Tarantino might also be surprised to discover, if he ventures out to a restaurant or orders room service, that most milk shakes on menus here actually cost more than $5 – and they’re not such “f***** good shakes”
“Garcon!!”
Israeli film ‘Lebanon’ takes top prize in Venice
Filed under: A New Reality, General, Movies, Pop Culture, War
It’s ironic that just as a group of well-known actors and filmmakers, among them Jane Fonda and Danny Glover, are calling to boycott this year’s Toronto International Film Festival because one program there will be devoted to films set in Tel Aviv to mark that city’s centennial, an Israeli film walked off with top honors at the 66th Venice Film Festival.
Israeli director Samuel Maoz’s Lebanon won the Golden Lion, the top prize, at the closing ceremony on Saturday night, the third Israeli film based on soldiers in Lebanon besides Joseph Cedar’s Beaufort in 2008 and Ari Folman’s Waltz with Bashir in 2009 to win major awards. None of those films could come close to being described as Israeli propoganda, as the pro-boycotters claim all Israeli film is, and in fact, they provide a critical look at Israeli society and the wars we’ve fought.
Lebanon, Maoz’ first feature film, received glowing reviews from critics, with The International Herald Tribune calling it “a powerful and original film.” Based on Maoz’s battle memories, Lebanon depicts the fate of an IDF tank and its crew behind enemy lines at the beginning of the first Lebanon War in 1982.
According to The Jerusalem Post, the hard-hitting film is shot almost entirely from the point of view of the soldiers inside the tank, and is uncompromising in its depiction of the confusion of war, the inevitability of casualties (both civilian and military), and the claustrophobia of being stuck inside a machine that protects soldiers but can also become a death trap at any moment. It is highly critical of the leadership that brought these soldiers into such a deadly situation and left them there with so little guidance.
Lebanon is nominated for several Ophir Awards, the prizes of the Israel Academy for Film, including Best Picture. The Ophir winners will be announced in a ceremony on September 26.
The winner of the Ophir Award becomes Israel’s official entry to be considered for a nomination for the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar.
It’s also ironic, that as more and more quality Israeli films are being made that have nothing to do with war and conflict, it is precisely those war-based movies that are touching an international audience. If the naysayers who would deny audiences in Toronto from viewing the spectrum of film which reflect the diversity of Israeli culture – that don’t attempt to whitewash any blemishes or skirt over the pall of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict – would only view some of the films themselves, they may reconsider their decision to boycott.
A different kind of tower on 9-11
Filed under: A New Reality, General, History and Culture, Israeliness, Politics, War
I may have been one of the few people to have almost totally missed the horrifying events of September 11, 2001.
I was in miluim (reserve duty) and stationed at the military prison at the Megiddo intersection on the way to Afula. It housed a couple thousand Palestinian security prisoners who were awaiting trial for alleged crimes ranging from belonging to a terror organization to throwing Molotov cocktails at cars, to planning terror attacks, to probably just being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
As a military policeman, until that year, my duties each year at whatever similar prison dotting the country that I was sent to entailed, opening alot of gates, accompanying prisoners to see their lawyers, doctors, families on visiting day, and bascially enabling them to receive the basic neccessities of food, shelter and medical care. Unarmed and at arms length of the prisoners, we MPs were always watched over by armed to the teeth combat soldiers, sitting in tall guard towers with birds eye views of the primarily outdoor compound.
But this year, due to a combination of budget difficulties and shortages of IDF units, our miliuim assignment was to take over the towers and guard a different batch of MPs. On 9-11, I received the noon to 6 pm shift and the midnight to 6 am shift. However, instead of one of the towers facing inward toward the prisoner action, I got the plum position of the tower facing the bustling Wadi Ara road, Road 65, which led to the Megiddo intersection. The directive – to make sure there were no attempted infiltrations.
What that really meant is that I got to watch traffic for six hours, and sing as many Beatles songs as I could remember. It was another uneventful shift and nearing the end, the only item of interest was a car pulled over to the road right outside the fence, with the driver changing his flat tire.
At one point, he looked up at me, and over the din of the traffic, shouted out something. I couldn’t really make it out and asked him to repeat it. I could only hear “plane… crash…building.”
I smiled and nodded, and counted down the minutes until my replacement arrived at 6. He told me to go straight to the command tent and see what was on TV, that I wouldn’t believe it. When I got there, there were about 50 soldiers gathered around the TV.
“What’s going on?” I asked one friend. He filled me in on the chain of events, each one seeming more infathomable than the previous. I wanted to sit down, glue myself to the TV and try to comprehend the enormity of the events as they were still unfolding. But I had to eat dinner, shower, and try to sleep for two or three hours. Because at midnight, I went back up the tower for another six hour shift.
By the time I saw the sunrise on September 12, the rest of the world was in shock and mourning the thousands of casualties. I climbed down from my tower, trudged to my tent, and fell into a long dreamless sleep.
Nostalgia Sunday – 9-11
Filed under: General, Life, Nostalgia Sunday, Politics, Travel, War
In five days, it will have been eight years since September 11, 2001 and it looks like this year’s 9/11 anniversary is going to pass without much media fanfare. (Unless something happens, of course, and you know what I mean by “something”). So I thought I would finally share the story of what happened to me that day and how I ended up in a refugee camp in Amsterdam.
Yes, the International Red Cross runs — or ran, at least — four refugee camps in Amsterdam but for the life of me, I cannot tell you where exactly I was sent to stay from Schiphol Airport. That is because 9/11 was, as we Israelis say, a big “balagan”. I can tell you that when I landed there at about 1:30 on a stopover en route back to Israel, the airport was functioning normally. I can tell you that at about 2:15pm, I saw a bunch of people over at the airport lounge staring, transfixed, at the bank of TV screens. I traipsed over in my high-heeled boots to see all the screens, save one, tuned to CNN’s coverage as the first tower was hit. That last screen was broadcasting a bike race. This was Holland, after all.
My initial reaction was, “I’d better buy a pair of comfortable shoes because I think I’m going to be here awhile.” So I trundled off to the Timberland store and purchased a pair of slides, during which time the second tower was hit. I went back to the lounge and watched as news of the Pentagon attack came in. That damn bike race kept on going. Then Schiphol, in the first of a number of panicked moves, announced that it was shutting down the televisions — ostensibly to keep people from panicking.
News began circulating among passengers that airspace around the world was shutting down, and people began rushing towards the various airline counters, trying to find out what was happening to their flights. “You’ve got to get organized,” I said to the KLM counter attendant who was busily shooing the Israelis away from her space. She looked at me and said something completely un-Israeli. “I don’t have to get organized,” she said. It was my first encounter with the concept known as the Dutch Uncle.
On a grander scale, Schiphol decided to do the exact same thing. They decided they didn’t have to get organized. The airport announced that it was shutting down, that all passengers had to vacate the premises, and take their luggage with them. And then, Schiphol proceeded to unload all the suitcases, all at once, from all of the planes. 18 baggage carousels began disgorging bags, one after another, without any rhyme or reason. People were crawling all around through a maze of suitcases. Six hours later, I found my stuff.
For me it was an eye-opener as to how quickly systems can break down. Imagine if Schiphol had been an attack target, as management apparently feared. Someone, however, was astute enough to call in the Red Cross — and that is when things did, indeed, get organized. Red Cross staffers came in with bottled water, soft drinks and potato chips. Also, as the hotels in town were now completely full, they had arranged for transport to take us to a place where, they promised, KLM would be able to see to our flights and where there was a place to sleep. And so, with suitcases in tow, my new, comfortable shoes, and visions of Anne Frank in my head, I boarded a bus full of strangers and rode out into the cold, wet, dark night.
And ended up in an enormous refugee camp on the outskirts of Amsterdam where I handed over my passport, was registered, and in return issued a tan fleece blanket, a KLM washkit and some supplies produced for the Red Cross by a company called De Ridder B.V. These included a toothbrush pre-embedded with toothpaste…shampoo packets… and paper underwear, pairs of which the KLM staffers — sensitive as always — had jokingly put on their heads.
The name “de Ridder”, is Middle Dutch for ‘knight’, ‘rider’, ‘horseman’. The Crusader aspect of the name was lost neither on the company, whose logo at the time was a knight in armor on a horse, brandishing a sword and shield with a red cross on it, nor on myself. (The logo has since been downsized to a knight with a sword and shield but no horse). I stood there in the communal washroom, looking down at the shampoo packet, and realized that the Crusades were still going on. I knew the attackers knew they were fighting a holy war, and I also knew that the attacked didn’t know this.
I couldn’t find any Israelis till I ran into Mira from Rehovot who told me she’d heard that all the Israelis had banded together immediately and gone en masse to another camp. “I don’t feel comfortable here,” she said. “There aren’t any other Israelis. I’m going back to the airport. I heard they’ll put you on a plane if you go there.” And there went my only homeland connection.
I spent the first two days and nights in my refugee camp, as I’ve come to call think of it, in a haze of jet-lagged confusion, wrapped in a blanket, watching the endless hours of wreckage, feeling like the end of the world had come, eating junk food (the Red Cross kept us well-supplied with kuchen and krispen), and watching a group of Sudanese boys playing on the two foosball tables. I asked one of them what the letters on his sweatshirt stood for and he spelled out the name of an international relief agency, explaining that he and his friends were on their way to be resettled in the US. Oh, it suddenly hit me. These were real refugees.
So I snapped out of my funk. Chatted with people who kept on coming in and heard their stories: one couple’s flight had been turned back an hour out of Chicago, another rerouted to the Nova Scotia airport in only their summer clothes. Stuck to the KLM staffers like the proverbial white on rice and on the third day they called my name over the camp loudspeaker and told me El Al had arranged a flight back to Israel. KLM were pretty complimentary about El Al’s functioning — apparently there were other airlines that didn’t get organized.
At the airport I ran into my pal Mira who — despite her best efforts — had made no more progress than I. “They’re all Antisemites here,” she said. “We’ve been sleeping on the floor. They didn’t even give us a blanket.” She stomped off to try her luck at the El Al counter while I was hustled onto an ISSTA charter flight to Ben Gurion Airport. Granted, it was my worst travel nightmare come true: flying with a planeful of unwashed, guitar-playing post-IDF grads after their year in the Far East but at least I was on my way home.
So here’s how I would rate the whole experience:
Foto Friday – Olga Dragunsky’s Forgotten Heroes
Filed under: Foto Friday, General, History and Culture, Life, Profiles, War
Americans know that Jews fought in the US Army in World War II but many are less aware of the Russian Jews who fought equally as valiantly against Hitler. According to the Center for Jewish History: “An estimated 500,000 Jewish men and women served in the Soviet military during WWII… in every branch of the armed forces and on every front… More than 100 Jews held the rank of general, and in many important battles of the eastern front, Jewish generals held key commands.”
“Jews ranked fifth among the ethnic groups, or ‘nationalities,’ who received the highest military accolade of their country, ‘Hero of the Soviet Union.’ About 150 Jews received this prestigious award for their bravery on the battlefield. Altogether, about 160,000 Jewish soldiers received medals and honors of one kind or another, making them the fourth most decorated nationality in the USSR.”
Olga Dragunsky, whose family came to Israel following the fall of the USSR, began photographing elderly Russian war veterans, “because I was interested in the history of the country where I was born. I heard a lot of stories during my life and I decided to know more.”
Dragunsky turned her personal interest into a magnificent final project when she graduated of the School of Photographic Communications, Hadassah College Jerusalem.
Since graduating, Dragunsky has been working as an official photographer for Taglit-birthright Israel. She also self-published a book with personal stories from each veteran.
In May 2005, the 60th anniversary of the end of World War II in Europe, the Center for Jewish History launched a fascinating website, Letters From the Front: Jewish War Heroes, dedicated specifically to honoring the heroism of those who gave their lives in the fight against fascism. The site presents postcards, letters, medals and other materials from the Blavatnik Archive , a unique private collection whose mission is to share with the public previously unknown historic documents and memorabilia. Definitely worth a look.
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