From her home office in Metula, Orna Rayn looks out on the Lebanese border just a stone’s throw away. But no one is throwing stones these days.
Since the start of Israel’s war with Hezbollah, deadly rockets have shattered the region’s customary tranquility, bringing death and destruction to the north.
Rayn, though, has no time to dwell on her feelings. As the local coordinator for the S.F.-based Jewish Community Federation, Rayn oversees the federation’s “sister city” relationship with Upper Galil region. She’s been working overtime ever since the first Katyushas fell.
Though Israel’s northerners are known for their hardy ways, the current conflict is different, according to Rayn. “People are feeling the anxiety of an unknown situation,” she says by phone from Metula as rocket blasts could be heard in the distance. “The difference this time is the rockets go all over the area, not just one place like they used to.”
Many have fled, with Rayn estimating at least half the local population relocating to the south. For those remaining, and for those still hoping to leave, the federation has been eager to help in any way possible.
In a statement to staff, media, and friends, federation CEO Tom Dine said, “My colleagues and I have had numerous conversations with our Israel staff and friends, as well as with the mayors of the five regional municipalities with whom we partner — Kiryat Shmona, Upper Galil kibbutzim and moshavim, Metula and Yesod Hama’ala — to keep abreast of the situation there and identify immediate, high-priority needs for the children and families.”
So far, the federation has donated $50,000 to hire busses to transport evacuees, as well as to provide equipment, supplies and simple human contact for those remaining behind in shelters. Children are especially vulnerable to psychological trauma, so they and their parents have had first priority in relocating to the south, where summer camps, national parks and other venues have welcomed them.
Others have not been so lucky.
“Those who stayed are those who cannot afford to leave,” notes Rayn. “The people are from low socioeconomic levels. The banks are closed, the post office has been closed a week. These people have no cash to buy food.”
“There is no business as usual,” adds the federation’s Israel & Overseas Director Dawne Bear Novicoff. “Daily life in the north has completely stopped. These are not cash-rich towns. In a week or two there will be other things to focus on to help people deal with the aftermath, to deal with the stress.”
Meanwhile, Rayn has braved the rockets to travel to the local towns, kibbutzes and moshavs, conferring with local officials and citizens most affected by the war.
“You see the children with frightened eyes,” she says. “After seven days no one wants to stay in the shelter. People go out, then comes a rocket and you change your plans. Yesterday in Kiryat Shimona, some men were begging the mayor to open the post office to get their [social security] payment. They were desperate.”
As the battles wear on, so do the economic and psychological blows to the people of the north. But they didn’t earn their tenacious reputation for nothing.
Says Rayn, “We’re already talking about the day after.”