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Thoughts on Trauma: from a Teenager in Israel


Ayelet Kon
Israel

Ayelet Kon is a talented young writer from Israel, whom I "met" on the Internet through a mutual friend. She was born in Israel to parents who made Aliya from New York. She lives in the town of Ginot Shomron, in an English speaking community and travels to school in Kfar Saba on a bulletproof bus. She is in twelfth grade and says that "When I'm not cramming for a math exam, I enjoy reading, music and traveling. I love learning about different life styles and cultures. When I write, it's often out of a reporting instinct - to let the world know, to find the best way to capture feelings, thoughts, atmosphere of a certain moment and to pass that on."

August 2001
I slept over at a friend's the other night. Not an exciting sleepover Party of a pre-teen, where you stay up late making ice cream sundaes, watching movies, having pillow fights, gossiping and giggling, until you finally fall asleep on a sleeping bag full of popcorn crumbs. It was on the casual side. I had been studying that whole day. Though summer vacation, I didn't allow myself to fall behind, and I spent the day groaning over algebra equations and studying for my theory test in driving. By evening I was ready for a break, and invited myself over to my friend's house for a movie.

We watched The Net, Sandra Bullock, and then, since it was already late, My friend opened a folding bed, and I stayed the night. But some things never change, and though we were both exhausted, the moment the lights were out and we were lying comfortably in our beds, we began whispering to each other. At this point, I'd like to tell you that we discussed clothes, make-up, boys, like we were expected to, as normal healthy teenage girls.

But we didn't, because more than we are 17 year olds at a sleepover, we are Jews in Israel.

"My mom bought us all bullet-proof vests" my friend tells me. We live in the Shomron, 15 minutes past the green line that separates us from the rest of the country and cuts us off of the Jewish State. They call our town a "settlement", like a curse. They say that we are the obstacle that won't allow Israel to reach a peace treaty with the Arabs. That we are the cause for the Arabs' hatred. That we are fools to be living in an isolated community surrounded by Arab towns. The road from here to the nearest city is dangerous and we all have stone-proof windows in the car. Bulletproof is too expensive. What's the cost of a life?

There are approximately 200 American families in my town, crazy people who left the land of freedom and opportunity, where they had good jobs, big houses, family and friends. Why?

I believe that the main cause for the way Israeli Jews are reacting to the difficult situation today has a lot to do with their personal understanding of their Place in This World. Am I just passing by or am I part of a bigger plan? Was I sent down to earth with a duty, an important role to play, a contribution I must make? Am I here to prepare the world for future generations or am I just here to enjoy my own life? Am I to look out for myself - and get the hell out of this country before I'm killed, or am I to look ahead at the future of the Jewish People - and give myself so that Jews will always have a land of their own to which they can flee from hatred and persecution.

Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles and friends are calling us back to the States. They're scared. So are we. Two weeks ago, one of the families from the town was driving home, when they were shot at. The mother - a nurse in our town's health clinic - was killed. Her husband and 14 year old daughter are lying in the hospital in critical condition. This was the first time the terror of the past year hit our neighborhood. This was a family everyone knew. Meeting the mother at the doctor's office when the kids had the flu, praying side by side with the father at synagogue on Shabbat, exchanging notes with the daughter during a boring history class.

"My mom insists that we wear the vests every time we drive out of the town." My friend continues. "But I refuse" It's dark in the room and I don't see my friend's face. I stare into the darkness and listen to her voice; flat, calm, stubborn. "She wants us to cut down on rides into the city, she wants us to stay away from the malls and crowded pizza parlors, from the movie theaters and public busses. But I won't. I can't. I have to continue my normal life. I have to do things that 17 year olds do." She talks quietly, carefully, trying to find the right words to accurately express her feelings, to explain her ideas, to give satisfying reasons for her crazy-seeming actions.

"Don't you see? If I give in, and imprison myself in my house, lock myself into the darkness of constant fear and stress and wear that bulletproof vest, the Arabs will have won. I will not allow them to scare me into losing my love of life, my happiness, my hopes and dreams. I will not let them rob me of my ideals and of my faith." She suddenly gets up, propping herself up on her elbows, she turns to me, and the moonlight shines silver on her face. "I don't want to die." She whispers. "But if I must, I'd rather be killed because I am a Jew in Israel, fighting proudly for the future of her People"

I'm not sure why I send you this. I came back from my friend's the next morning and felt I must write. Math and driving got pushed aside as I settled down in front of my computer. I find it strange, I find it wrong that late into the night we are discussing bullet-proof vests and terrible murders.

I wish to give you insight into the crazy heads of "settlers". I want you to understand that we are human. That we are scared. But also that we are proud Jews with great ideals and lots of faith and we will give all to make sure that you will always have a country to go back to when you're ready to come home.