American filmmaker Laura Bialis, who has been living in Sderot making a documentary for the Foundation for Documentary Projects, emailed me an excerpt from the last 36 hours of her journal:
Friday, 10:00AM: I say (out loud) that we are lucky for no Tzeva Adom [Color Red Alert] this morning. A half an hour later, we are getting ready to leave the house: Tzeva Adom, Tzeva Adom. We run into the shelter. This time, we hear the whistle. Avi always told me that the scariest moment is when you can hear the whistle, because it means it is landing right near you. After the whistle, a huge boom that rattles the house. We run out to the street, all the neighbors have come out and everybody yells, "Where did it fall?" People are running around looking. We finally realize it has fallen across the street on the back side of our house. Luckily there are no homes there, just an open field.
Friday, 4:30PM: Right before Shabbat. Avi’s brother and his family stop by to visit. His 8-year-old twin nieces are chasing our cat around our backyard and playing catch with grapefruits they picked from the trees. . . . All of the sudden, a huge boom. It was a qassam WITHOUT the Tzeva Adom warning — one of the scariest things possible. Then it starts: Tzeva Adom, Tzeva Adom. We run into the shelter. More explosions. Close.
Friday, 8:00PM: Shabbat dinner at Avi’s parents. Avi is really depressed and angry. He keeps asking, "Is this a way to live? Why? Why?" He doesn’t usually get this worked up, but something about seeing his nieces exposed to the danger makes him sad. He can’t eat.
Friday, 10:00PM: We can hear singing and cheering. . . We see six hundred young people from a group called "Lev Ehad (One heart.)" They hold Israeli flags and walk through the streets of Sderot singing, clapping, and cheering, to show solidarity. It’s an amazing sight.
Friday, 10:30PM: We are driving home. We have the radio tuned to 104fm, where after 9PM there is silence, but the Tzeva Adom is broadcast — supposedly a couple of seconds before you can hear the loudspeakers. We stop the car and run up the walkway to the nearest house. We bang on the door. Nobody home. We get close to the wall of the house, just in case. For the first time I am afraid, I can hear my own heart beating. Something about the process of trying to run and not knowing where to go.
Friday, Midnight: We are sitting in our house drinking coffee with Robbie and Lavi . . . They are talking about how upsetting it is that seven years of rockets and the government doesn’t care, but now that rockets hit Askhelon, it’s suddenly not okay anymore. Robbie says it is because of who live here — Mizrachim (Jews from Arab countries) not Askenazim. Poor people. The government doesn’t care about the people of Sderot — but Askhelon is now the limit. Avi talks about his new song. Its called, "Sushi in
Saturday, 2:00AM: Tzeva adom. This is strange — doesn’t usually happen at this hour. We run to the shelter. Can’t hear a boom. Maybe it’s too far. I get back in bed and try to sleep. I hear helicopters.
Saturday, 5:00AM: Tzeva Adom.
Saturday, sometime between 5 and 7AM: One or two Tzeva Adoms. I don’t remember. I don’t get up, I don’t wake up. I just stay in bed. Screw it all. If they want to bomb me, go ahead.
Saturday, 7:30AM: Tzeva Adom. We wake up and run to the shelter. I am so tired I can’t even stand up. Get back in bed. I can hear gunfire. Really loud gunfire . . . like a machine gun. It is from a tank or a helicopter or something.
Saturday, 9:30AM: Tzeva Adom. Okay, maybe it’s time to get up. I hear airplanes — really loud. Must be F-16’s.
Saturday, Noon: Helicopters. I get online. I can’t help it. What does it say in the news. Thirty-three qassams from yesterday until now. Twenty-six people killed in
I look at the press from the West and get very angry. It’s mostly about their injuries. Another article about Palestinian protests about our attacks. This is ridiculous. If there were no rockets raining on us the IDF wouldn’t have anything to do there. I don’t like the way we are portrayed. We don’t want this war. They are dragging us in. What can we do? There are rockets raining on us daily.
But in the media we look like the aggressors. It feels so unfair to be sitting here and reading that. My entire perspective has changed. I used to think that
Saturday, 2pm: Tzeva Adom. I’m alone in the house, I run to the shelter.
Saturday, 3pm: Tzeva Adom. I stay at my desk. This is ridiculous.
Saturday, 7pm: The news. Two Israeli soldiers killed. 45 Palestinians.
As I am writing this, more helicopters. More guns. Very depressed.
Israeli men survey the damage after a rocket fired by Palestinian militants in Gaza landed in the southern Israeli town of Sderot March 1, 2008. REUTERS/Ammar Awad.
An Israeli rescue worker stands in an apartment that was struck by a rocket fired by Palestinian militants in
A local resident attends a protest calling for
An Israeli man stands on the scene after a rocket fired by Palestinian militants in Gaza landed in Kibbutz Gevim near the southern town of Sderot March 2, 2008. REUTERS/Gil Cohen Magen
Israelis take cover in a shelter during a rocket attack in Kibbutz Gevim near the southern town of Sderot March 2, 2008. REUTERS/Gil Cohen Magen
An Israeli woman is evacuated from the scene after a rocket fired by Palestinian militants in Gaza landed in the southern town of Sderot March 2, 2008. REUTERS/Ammar Awad
An Israeli woman reacts on the scene after a rocket fired by Palestinian militants in Gaza landed in the southern town of Sderot March 2, 2008. REUTERS/Ronen Zvulun