Link for Helping those without homes living in Eilat.
I haven’t managed to write in my journal in a long time. I could claim it’s because I was too busy and fell asleep every time I sat down, but I think the real reason is because something feels so wrong inside, and I don’t know how to face it.
My kids are back in school (mostly), my husband and I are back at work in our home office, and we haven’t had a siren in Be’er Sheva in three weeks. We’re moving into a sort of mid-war normal. But while we do, we’re leaving so many behind.
Last week my husband’s cousin, Brad Efune, came to visit from Arizona. Brad has fantastic energy, as does his whole family. He came because he wanted to help our soldiers and displaced Israeli children, and he packed his schedule with great ways to do so.
Together we brought vital donations to elite combat units in Gaza, supported a project to add surveillance capabilities to older tanks that are now being used in combat, and brought mezuzahs, coats, and other equipment to a secretive Air Force base deep in the Negev desert. At each stop, we met fierce heroes who were the most kind and selfless gentle soldiers you can imagine, in a combination that seemed odd but just right for the Jewish nation.
Then we drove all the way down to the far end of Israel—to Eilat. In Eilat there are 60,000 displaced Israelis from the communities on the Gaza and Lebanon borders. A significant number of them are elderly, and an estimated 16,000 are children.
Most of them hid in their safe rooms on October 7th, barricading the door and praying for 18 hours or more while listening to machine gunfire all around their homes. Some jumped out of their windows as their house went up in flames, and then ran to hide in bushes or outdoor storage huts while Hamas terrorists hunted them down. Too many of them lost siblings, parents, or children. All of the displaced people from the south lost at least one family member or friend on that horrible terrible day.
But before they could mourn, before they could walk around and take in what had happened, and before they could even thoughtfully pack their belongings; they were rushed aboard busses, or forced to make the dangerous journey in their own cars, and fled. All the way down to Eilat.
In Eilat they stay in hotels. Each community together in one big building. In place of the open kibbutz fields are long hallways lined with doors; in place of the yishuv playgrounds, are carpeted hotel conference rooms; and in place of their home kitchens is a cafeteria where meals are served on a strict schedule for 58 days on end, according to a rigid weekly menu.
Oh, and laundry? Three washing machines for 250 families. At least that was until the Chabad Rabbi and Rebbetzin came along on week two and brought a donation of dozens of washing machines for the families of one hotel, forcing the city to get moving and provide for the rest.
Listen, it’s a mess. I could rant on and on about it. Kids who just experienced the worst Jewish trauma since the Holocaust were left without their belongings or comforts, far away from home, and with no regular school schedule to keep them busy. Teens who are old enough to understand what happened but not to process any of the real-life nightmares, are left to wander in a tourist city known for its troubled youth and unregulated nightlife.
At the begging of the war, help flooded in. Therapists flew in from the center of the country to work with the children, and donations of clothing and diapers lined the hotel halls. But soon everyone had to go home, and tiny impoverished Eilat couldn’t afford to continue donating to a displaced population larger than their own.
Naturally, Rabbi Mendi and Chanie Klein, the Chabad Rabbi and Rebbetzin, stepped in. The most urgent thing was regular programming to keep the kids and teens busy in an emotionally healthy space, and allow the parents some downtime.
We witnessed it all happen. Our first visit to Eilat was the very first week of the war, when we brought Tzitzit and other supplies for the soldiers in bases that the Kleins serve around Eilat, and we learned that Rabbi Mendi and Chanie were taking care of mothers who went into labor immediately after or while fleeing the October 7th massacre.
The next time we arrived, we got to help out with the first pre-Shabbat challah bake at hotel Aria. And now, our third time, we visited just a day before ten energetic volunteers came to help Chabad bring programming to over 45 hotels of displaced families for the next months.
Brad and his family, the Efunes from Arizona, sponsored gifts of large LEGO sets for the 600 children in two hotels, from primarily Moshav Yesha and Mivtahim, and Kibbutz Nirim. They also sponsored fun equipment for a teen club for Kibbutz Nirim. Of course, we had to give it all with a party, to make it all the more exciting for the kids.
Netanel Katz had contacted me a week earlier. He has a show called “Simcha on Wheels,” and was volunteering to come from the U.S. to cheer up the displaced kids. He did great! He had the kids on their feet, dancing, singing, and laughing.
I stood in the back, and spoke to some mothers. It’s one thing to know that people are struggling; it’s another to come face it, and open your heart to their pain. I’m going to change their names for privacy, but also, so that you can feel with them too.
Mayan and I began to talk about the next months ahead. “I don’t know what I’ll do,” she confided. “It’s not safe to go home yet, but I can’t find a house near my work that we can afford. We can’t move into an apartment building, only one story homes, because ever since that Shabbat, my son has been displaying suicidal behaviors. With an apartment, I’m afraid he will jump.”
Mayan’s son is seven. Seven-years-old. But the experiences, traumas, and losses are too much for him to handle, and now he can’t be left alone, or anywhere high up.
Anat walked over to me, she was excited. “Thank you!” She said, before giving me a big bear hug. “My kids are grown up, but I heard that the Moshav children are smiling and having fun together for the first time. I had to come see for myself! It’s hard to believe.”
She ran off and returned a few minutes later with a young soldier. “This is my youngest son, he is serving on the border with Lebanon, but he got one day off to come visit me. He was resting in my room, but I ran to bring him. He needs to see that the children are smiling again! It will give him strength for battle.”
I kneeled down to high five a six-year-old boy who had just received a big LEGO set. He was beaming. His mother began telling me how excited he was, but I could tell there was something more.
“I wish my teens came to the party too.” She sighed. “Their are holed up in our room. My daughter thinks she is not allowed to be happy until her friends come home.”
I looked at her. She nodded sadly and confirmed, “from Gaza.”
Aviva stood alone in the corner, she gave the impression of a motherly figure watching over the children. I walked up to her, and without thinking, asked asked how she was doing.
She took a deep breath, “I say thank G-d, because one of my sons survived on that day.”
I didn’t know what to say. Her eyes gave away deep pain, but also love and hope. I asked if I could give her a hug. She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed tight. It was a hug filled with a million tears choked up in between two hearts who had never met before but share the same destiny.
Aviva whispered. “I haven’t fallen into despair. I think that’s because of the unity of the Jewish people. Everyone is holding us up together.”
A pause, and then words that will echo in my head forever.
“Because you come here and share in my pain, I can have moments like this, and share in your joy.”
——
I believe we all have a responsibility to the families who lost too much while standing guard the borders of Israel. Please consider donating to Chabad of Eilat who are working 24/7 to bring stability and healthy programming to the displaced children, teens, parents, and elderly. I’ve seen the work they do up close, and can’t think of a more important cause.
I made a goal to raise at least $50,000 for them in the next three days. Please find my link in the comments or in my story.
©2023 B. Efune