Sderot Israel

In comparison to what Malka is used to, the people here are rude. Some are scary. And of course, there is always that constant danger looming at Israel’s borders. Malka’s images of Israel are not too complimentary.

Malka’s question begs an answer. It’s a good question. In a day when people worldwide are talking about boycotting Israel’s products, freezing Israel’s building, and generally using any reason to criticize Israel, I cannot blame Malka for not seeing what I see – images of the real Israel – glimpses of a 3300 year old dream. We have always said, “Next year in Israel.” Now that we are here, maybe we have the responsibility to our ancestors, to live the dream that they couldn’t.

Jerusalem Day is coming soon. Today I happened to see some “Life Magazine” photos of Israel in 1948. There are pictures of people escaping the Arab Legion. There are pictures of Jewish refuges both from Jerusalem and frome Europe.

It’s an amazing story! We are part of it. WE – who feel a deep connection to the struggles of our own people. We cannot expect others to feel the same connection. It hasn’t been stamped in.

There are more photos of Israel in 1948. There is the destruction of Jerusalem when it was surrendered; how it burned; how the Arabs looted and destroyed homes where Jews had left. The Arabs came and conquered, but they never really had a connection to this land like we have.

Last night Malka told me that she is starting to like this place. She took a walk around some remote parts of Sderot, where it is even quieter than where we live. And she said, “I feel like I’ve been here before.” Could Malka be awakening to a sense of coming home? Is Israel finally starting to grow on her like it did me several years ago? Maybe she is beginning to feel she is just aa much a part if this “image of Israel” as I am.

Keep a smile on your face and a dance in your feet.

When I first came to Sderot a couple years ago, the first thing to catch my eye was the bakery in the center of town. When you walk in, your eyes and nose are treated to all sorts of sensations you don't usually find outside of Israel. It has different kinds of bread and pastries in various sizes and shapes. And over on the side walls there are bourekas . . .

[Side note: A bourekas is flaky pastry stuffed with different fillings; you have potato bourekas, mushroom bourekas, spinach bourekas, pizza bourekas, and a lot more.]

The sell bourekas by the kilo. You just choose the kind you want and you put as many as you want into a paper bag. The first time I saw this, I went wild -- potato burekas, mushroom bourekas, pizza bourekas, tuna bourekas - I had to try at least one of each. My stomach did not thank me for that.

Well, that bakery isn't the only place to get bourekas. There are about a dozen bakeries in town. Many of them have bourekas. On a forlorn day with no food at home and only small change in my pocket, I'd stop in at the bakery down the road, pick up 3 or 4 bourekas, and head over to the park across the street for a picnic.

Last night was one of those forlorn nights. Malka is still adjusting to living in Israel, and I'm still trying to find work so we can stay here - or somewhere.

Needless to say, there's been some tension. Malka is not used to the surroundings and I'm getting no great feedback from any prospective employer.

Last night, we were there. I mean that's where we were - the number one question of the day.. No food in the house, not enough money for a felafel, and in a small town like Sderot Israel. What did we do?: Well, we didn't sit around dreaming of an Israeli breakfast like the one on the right.

We got our pocket change together and walked over to the supermarket. A quick glance at the bakery counter - lots and lots of burekas. Cheaper than pizza.

And here's the deal; At night time the supermarket bourekas go down to about half price..

Amazing how far 4 shekels will get you.

Thanks for reading. Feel free to leave a comment.

A true friend once lived next door.

Dogs of Sderot are different still. Not just different from cats. They’re different from dogs in other towns. It’s in their nature to be friendly with people, but some of their spirit has been taken away. They are shy. They keep their distance from people they don’t know.

Someone once told me it’s post traumatic stress syndrome because of the rockets that have fallen in Sderot. Maybe there’s some truth to that. More likely, they have learned to distrust humans. The way many people treat dogs in Sderot, it is no wonder they don’t smile when people show up.

There are exceptions: A few dogs around town let me past their anti-human prejudice. When I would approach them they would approach me, instead of run away. Within minutes they’d put their head conveniently under my palm to be pet, as if we were old acquaintences.

While it’s comforting to be trusted by a dog here and there, these dogs never think of playing with a human. In fact, they hardly ever play with each other. In fact any suggestion of play gets greeted with a look that says, “When are you going to take life seriously?” The dogs of Sderot are different.

With all this going on, you can imagine my delight when I finally met a dog who was normal. A big white puppy who has not gotten to know the kassams or the warning signals. When I first met this dog – whose name I never learned – she was always with an older dog. I supposed they were related, and I supposed the older dog protected the younger one. So it could be that my friend never was too mistreated by humans.

Of course she was constantly wary and suspicious of people. But she came to accept me as a friend.

More than once, I would be walking merrily along, when all of a sudden I’d feel something attack my hand or my leg from behind. Just as I’d turn to see who it could possibly be, that white dog would jump in front of me, and then jump on me, grabbing my hand in mock battle. That white dog knew how to play like a dog.

Well, I looked forward to introducing that dog to Malka when she came to Israel. But the dog must’ve moved. She’s never at the park, and she’s never out in her front yard. She must’ve moved to a different neighborhood.

So my best friend isn’t around here any more. Yet, I’ll be thankful to her for waiting until Malka got here. Not an exact replacement, but Malka more than makes up for her canine deficiencies.