No one who eats at an Israeli restaurant will confuse it for New Orleans. But if you sit down with the victims of the regions’ respective crises, you might not be so sure.
Anita Friedman landed in Israel on Friday, July 28, when most flights were likely headed the other way. And the executive director of the S.F.-based Jewish Family and Children’s Services was eerily reminded of her experiences in the delta in the wake of Hurricane Katrina.
“People who had more options there left. The people who remained didn’t have a whole lot of options or refused to leave,” she said of the New Orleans refugees during a telephone interview.
And in Israel, that’s also often the case. “Some of the people who are most dramatically affected are the poorest people,’ she said. “They have fewer options, and fewer relatives to stay with. Some of the people I met with [Monday, July 31] were brought out of the north for just a week or two weeks to give them some respite.”
Freidman is a trained psychologist with passable Hebrew skills and fluency in Russian, a useful language to speak considering many of Northern Israel’s inhabitants are emigrants from the former Soviet Union. She had planned to be in Israel this summer anyway because of JFCS partnerships with organizations researching the most effective way to treat childhood trauma, but moved her trip forward when war — and more trauma, both childhood and adult — broke out.
Working with SELAH, the Israel Crisis Management Center, Friedman has counseled hundreds of displaced Israelis and come away with at least that many poignant glimpses of Israeli life in a time of crisis.
Many of the people she has met are confused and disconcerted that the Israeli government hasn’t been able to stem the murderous hail of rockets landing in Israel’s north. For them, the feeling that Israel has underestimated Hezbollah’s abilities is palpable.
And yet, Friedman says, at the same time, it’s “remarkable” how determined the Israelis are to carry on with their lives.
“Some of the people I spoke with said they went through World War II in the former Soviet Union and survived the Holocaust and they are not going to be intimidated again and go to the shelters,” says Freidman, who will remain in Israel for several more weeks.
“They are determined not to be intimidated, but they are frightened. And they are very concerned about the future and that this is going to be a permanent condition, this constant state of war.”
The people most affected by the rocket attacks have been the most vulnerable: the old, the sick, Holocaust survivors and immigrants. Combining perhaps all of these categories, Friedman met with around 30 Israeli grandparents raising their orphaned grandchildren.
“One of them has three granddaughters all aged 12 and younger and she is 81,” said Freidman.
“They were all bused to a retreat center so they could get a break. They’re all from the North and they all got on a bus and went back today [Monday].”
A number of Israel’s northern inhabitants have decided to stick it out. But life is difficult. One man Friedman met couldn’t get any money out of the empty ATMs to pay for his prescriptions. Eventually he had to be evacuated to another city to be given his insulin shot. Another woman was driven out of Acco with her three-day-old baby and placed in a shelter. Her husband is in the army and she had been completely isolated.
“I am glad I came, as terrible as it is,” Friedman notes. People really are determined to go on with their lives. It’s really inspiring to see.”