By Rachel Saperstein
August 15, 2005
They have come. The soldiers and police are at the three gates leading into Neve Dekalim.
At 6:10 this morning I received a call from Tova. She and the older women had camped near two of the gates. "Where are the men to block the gates?" she cried frantically. "They?re here!"
A call was raised and within minutes men and boys in their tefillin and girls in their pajamas ran to block the main gate.
Thousands of soldiers have arrived to hand us our eviction papers. We must not allow them to enter. Media people almost outnumber the residents in their haste to capture the ugly, shameful scene of Jews barricading their homes so the arm of the government, the Israel Defense Forces, cannot carry out their mission of destroying Jewish life in Gush Katif.
Will the army and police get in? You?ll be watching it tonight on your tv sets.
I am speaking hour after hour to the media throughout the world telling our story of a beautiful people making a last stand against the corrupt power of the Sharon government.
The drones circulating above us used to monitor Arab shooters. Now they report on every move we make. They know who we are, where we live, and what we do.
The army moves from gate to gate. Rebuffed, they have cut the wires and entered at other points. People rush from point to point. The drones report our every movement and send the information back to headquarters.
I did some shopping. A loaf of bread, a bottle of milk, a container of cheese. Jimmy, our bread deliveryman is still allowed through, as is the Tnuva dairy truck. The shelves are almost bare. I thought I was buying a box of tissues. I wondered why there was still a neat pile on the shelves. They turned out to be surgical gloves -- bad mistake, good laugh. Filled with water.... hmmmm.
Reya, Christa and I work together in the house. Reya generally does the shopping. Christa does the cleanup. I cook and serve, always adding a touch of garnish to each dish. We need cheering up in this chaos.
We all feel the sense of deja vu. We feel as if we are reliving the story of Anne Frank and her family, hidden away, making do with what little they had.
We too are waiting for the knock at the door.
Whoever reads this, gather your friends, your synagogue members, your church members. Go to the Israeli consulate nearest you. Picket, protest, blow whistles, blow the shofar. And pray, pray, pray.
We are waiting for the miracle!
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