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Workers pack the belongings of Jewish settlers Jacob and Anath Abarjeel as they prepare to move from the settlement of Peat Sadeh in the Gush Katif bloc of settlements in the Gaza Strip. (AP)
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| By Israel Insider staff and partners August 11, 2005 |
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Yaakov Mazaltreen ripped out his faucets, windows, electric sockets, even his red roof tiles, in a race to salvage what he could when he leaves his home in Peat Sadeh in the coming days.
In nearby Kfar Darom, Irit Tsvaig has not even taken down the fish wind chime on her porch. Instead, she has filled her house with visitors in hopes of resisting the settlement's destruction.
When Israel sends thousands of troops into Gaza next week to remove Jewish settlers, some communities, like Peat Sadeh, will almost certainly be empty. Others, like Kfar Darom, will be packed with protesters.
Though people in both settlements wear the rubber orange bracelets testifying to their opposition to Israel's withdrawal from the Gaza Strip, their conflicting responses are driven by sharp differences in ideology, faith and even the roots of their communities.
Peat Sadeh is a quiet secular village established 12 years ago on a hilltop in the Gush Katif cluster of settlements in southern Gaza. Many of its residents made a comfortable living farming in the nearby greenhouses and their children learned to surf.
Kfar Darom is a fervently religious enclave, isolated from the other settlements and separated from the Palestinian town of Deir el-Balah by a thin line of walls and fences. Founded in 1946 as a kibbutz, it was evacuated after a long Egyptian siege during the 1948 Mideast War.
After Israel captured Gaza in 1967, it built an army post on the site, and in 1989 a band of civilians moved in, believing that the biblical Abraham once grazed his cattle there. Now Kfar Darom is home to a religious seminary and an institute that teaches the Jews' biblical connection to the land.
When Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon first proposed the Gaza pullout nearly two years ago -- saying it was untenable for a few settlers to live among 1.3 million Palestinians -- Mazaltreen and many of his neighbors felt they could do little to save their community.
Instead they became the first settlers to reach out to the government, negotiating a deal that would move the settlement's 100 residents to a kibbutz in southern Israel.
Residents of Peat Sadeh said other settlers, who wanted to maintain a united opposition, were furious. Mazaltreen received anonymous, threatening phone calls in the middle of the night calling him a traitor, he said.
Now, they are among a minority of settlers who know where they will live next week.
"There are a lot of people who are very envious of us today, a lot of people who say that in the end we did the right thing," said Viky Sabaj, who lives down the street from Mazaltreen.
These days, Peat Sadeh is filled with moving vans and shipping containers parked on front lawns. The settlement's sloping roofs have been reduced to wooden frames, their red tiles stacked on pallets in the street.
Workers gutted Mazaltreen's house, a two-story palace with a flowing staircase, white marble floors, walk-in closets and a backyard corral where his eight horses graze.
He picked up a massive drill and ripped apart the tile and concrete steps anchoring the Jacuzzi in the corner of his master bathroom. Next, he set his eyes on his winding wrought-iron bannister.
"I'm taking everything I can. If I could take this," he said pointing to a wall, "I would."
Mazaltreen, 40, was among the first settlers here and said his life as a successful farmer was a pastoral idyll.
Now, he is preparing to take his pregnant wife and their four children and leave.
"It's hard, it hurts ... but there is no choice," he said. "Anyone who thought this wasn't going to happen is not living in the real world."
When the residents of Kfar Darom heard of Sharon's plan, many said they expected a miracle or perhaps the arrival of the Messiah to save them.
Now, they are preparing for another siege under the slogan "Kfar Darom will not fall again."
Nearly every home has taken in guests from outside Gaza to resist the pullout. Tent camps set up in two open fields house even more sympathizers, roughly doubling the settlement's population of 500.
"It's clear even today that (the pullout) won't happen," said Tsvaig, 32, as she sat on her front porch watching her children play with a set of Gaza settlement collectible cards.
She and her husband, Ronen, moved here 11 years ago, believing they were fulfilling the religious commandment to settle the biblical land of Israel. "God gave us this country to live here," she said.
The couple and their five children, like their neighbors, have made no preparations to leave, despite the risk they could lose up to one-third of their compensation. They will deal with the consequences when, and if, they are removed, Ronen Tsvaig said.
Instead, they are working to foil the pullout. The women of the community gather before dawn for anti-withdrawal prayer services. The men have redoubled their Torah studies, seeking divine help.
The residents of Kfar Darom say they will not use violence, though they will resist.
Sharon does not have the right to give up this land, Irit Tsvaig said.
"It's not his, it's God's land, and he decided to give it to us. It's ours," she said.
Even if their settlement were destroyed, the Tsvaigs have firm faith that a third Kfar Darom will rise in its place.
"It is a prophecy," Irit Tsvaig said. "When the Messiah comes, we will be back."
The AP contributed to this report.
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