The Truth in Rainbows and Funerals

by Jerry Waxman

It’s easy to not like Sderot. Wow, what a thing to say about this town that I chose to live in. The sad truth is I haven’t met anyone who is in love with the town. People here have shown me reasons to believe that there are better places.

The most pungent reason is that Sderot literally smells bad. The original sewer system was not meant to service more than a few thousand residents. Sderot has an estimated 20,000 people who live and work here. The trouble with sewage often expresses itself in little streams of water crossing the streets. It more often expresses itself with an odor that pervades the air particularly in my neighborhood.

Another thing about Sderot is the people. On the whole you’d have to say they are a friendly bunch. However, when you see them in action everyday, facades of friendliness somehow disappear, and people let their stress out on one another.

Enough said about the negatives. More than enough.

The real point is, I have been trying to find a way to stay here and am failing to find even a good reason. Nobody answers my applications to work. The only reason that comes to mind is they only hire people they know, regardless of qualifications.

Reminds me of last year’s political campaigns, when I went to Davidi’s campaign headquarters twice to get involved. Nobody even approached me to ask me to vote for Davidi. When I approached them, the attitude was, “I don’t know you. Not gonna talk to you.”

Okay, enough with the negatives. My mind has been plagued lately with thoughts of leaving Sderot. Even of leaving the country if I get a decent job offer.

This last Shabbat was Parashat Noach, the story of the ark, the animals, and the flood that destroyed the world. It was also a yahrzeit weekend for me, which is always a reminder of my obligations to those who came before me. Even before the Shabbat, I was in a supermarket buying, amongst other things, a memorial candle. And it crossed my mind, “Only in Israel will you find a supermarket like this.”

I went to the Bukhari synagogue and they gave me the fifth aliya to the Torah. It was kind of a short passage. I noticed it mentioned a rainbow, G-d’s sign to Noah. And I thought, “What a beautiful way to remember those who have passed on.”

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Torah Insights at Israel Mag.Net

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After the service my friends taught me that the rainbow is not a good sign at all. It is beautiful to look at. But a complete rainbow is a reminder of the flood that destroyed the world. We’re not supposed to stare and marvel at it.

A hard truth. But truth is truth, whether you like it or don’t. Besides, it never rains in Sderot. I haven’t seen a rainbow since I’ve been here.

Yesterday, a funeral was held a block away from my apartment. I went because the deceased was somebody from the Parsi (Iranian) synagogue, where I often go. I didn’t know the man. But in Israel, when someone dies, it’s family, no matter who you are. In this case, he was a well respected man who came from Iran, and kept all the Jewish traditions, and went to synagogue every day.

During the funeral, which was attended by a couple hundred men and women, including several Torah scholars and rabbis, I sat on a nearby bench and observed. While eulogies were spoken, I could see comic-strip-like balloons over everybody’s head. They all had the same words, “When my time comes, what will they say about me?”

Will they say I left Israel to find a job? Will they say I left Sderot because it smells bad?

Truth is truth, and we live with it in Israel perhaps more than any other place in the world. Where else would we find people leaving their workplaces in the middle of the day to attend a funeral. Where else would a neighborhood build a tent in a parking lot and lead a procession down the middle of the street to honor one of its elders?

The truth is, a rainbow is a beautiful thing to behold, but it has a horrible episode behind it. Sderot may have its outward ugliness, but it has some beautiful lives and stories inside of it.

I don’t know if I’ll end up staying here or not. One thing is for sure, though. No regrets about being here. There are more positive things about Sderot than negative; just that the positive things tend to stay quiet.

Leaves of Hope

by Jerry Waxman

Sometimes it seems Sderot has no life.

I was walking around the other day, just observing things. I saw three dogs playing on a lawn and went closer to watch. Why?

Seeing dogs play is a rare thing, believe it or not. Most dogs in Sderot wander around kind of sad-like. And they do not trust people. They are uncommonly afraid of people. . . . Strange.

One of the dogs I was watching saw me and one began to bark, to protect his territory, I guess. All three dogs pranced off to another field. They wanted nothing to do with humans. And I couldn’t blame them.

I continued on and walked in to a supermarket.

When you walk in, there is always at least one security guard, often two, at the entrance. They are pleasant enough for having to stand there all day. They say nothing to me, but they know some of the Russian speaking customers and greet them.

The faces of the cashiers is discouraging. Blank stares, almost, as they go through routines. Even in conversations they have with people they know, there is little sign of emotion of any kind; just blank, serious stares as they process each customer, slowly and machine-like.

My guess is they don’t trust humans any more than the dogs.

The conversations you do hear in the supermarket often sound like arguments, almost like fights. Whether it is between two customers or between two employees or between an employee and a customer, it always seems to come up short of swinging fists.

I saw all this when I was nursing a melancholy mood. The dogs were supposed to put me in a better mood, but they failed.

Yet I remember times when I first came to Sderot, that I saw things differently. My mood was upbeat and it seemed like everyone else’s was, too.

So in reality, Sderot is neither a happy place or a desparate place. It just depends on what your mood is.

My wanderings brought me to a gymnasium near my house. Two men sat at the top of some stairs and explained to me what this facility was. Lying next to one of the men was a big furry dog that looked like a lion. No matter what I did to try to cheer that dog up, it remained aloof. Typical scared-of-humans dog.

I asked why all the dogs are afraid of us. The dog’s owner told me it was because of the kassams. The dogs are very afraid of them. He said the dogs know when they are coming before people know. And they are stressed out.

The same dog owner told me he once had 5 dogs, but two of them died of fear.

You know, it’s been months since there were regular rocket attacks on Sderot. Months and months of quiet. I have been eager to NOT define Sderot by its victim-hood. But the effects of the kassams keep coming back.

The dogs are stricken. And the people must be, too. Maybe it’s a major source of stress for all these people you see in the supermarkets and elsewhere with few smiles and quick grievances.

When I came to Sderot, I held ideals of living in a town of heroes who have given the enemy the collective finger, saying, “We ain’t leaving!”

But the more I see the faces of Sderot, the more I see people who have stayed in Sderot only because they have nowhere else to go.

Where are the ideals? Where is the courage – - the passion to protect our homeland?

I think I found it.

In the back of my apartment, I noticed something remarkable. Leaves.
Leaves were coming up in a garden I had once designed and built. They were watermelon leaves.

I had put the seeds of watermelons in the back yard months ago and forgot about it. There has been no rain for months, so how ever the seeds got the idea to grow is a mystery.

There they were, watermelon leaves that had braved the dry elements, the hard soil, the stones and sand and gravel, and broke through for sunlight.

Nobody can say for sure if these watermelon plants will succeed. There are insects and cats running around. Sometimes there are dogs and humans running around. Nevertheless, the watermelon leaves do not give up. And they’re not going to leave because of fear or stress.

Watermelons of Hope

That is a message of hope. If the leaves of a watermelon plant can brave eight inches of dry soil, and then continue to grow with no help from anyone, not even water, shouldn’t the people of Sderot be able to overcome their fears and apprehensions, too.

Maybe they will. And maybe we can help the dogs, too.

Meanwhile it would be good to get a little rain. But that’s another issue.

“Project “770″

Making life a little better all the way around.