After making the traditional stop at the Sderot Police Dept.’s Qassam missile “museum,” Huckabee joined members of the Hesder Yeshiva and Sderot residents for lunch in the yeshiva’s bomb shelter, where he took in a film presented by Sderot Media Center director Noam Bedein. The film recounted the events of Simchat Torah, when a Qassam missile struck the synagogue just after people had finished clearing out of the building after the celebrations.
After the presentation, Huckabee toured the yeshiva campus, which is under construction, and expressed his support and admiration for the people of Sderot.
Watch the video
Photo: Hamutal Ben Shitrit
“The people here are incredibly brave,” he told SMC. “It’s important that they remain steadfast and not back down. It would be a victory for terror and a loss for freedom if they did.”
He added that he hopes the current ceasefire is “not just an opportunity for [Hamas] to build up arms” in Gaza.
While Huckabee was generally careful to avoid speaking about political issues, he was not shy about sharing his ideological views on the peace process. At a press conference in Jerusalem, he said that he did not believe Israel should have to give up its land for a Palestinian state in order for peace.
“Christians and Jews share a culture of life,” he said. “The idea of destroying those who don’t agree with us is just not within us.
“We have no frame of reference for dealing with radical Islam. It’s like trying to hook up a Mac to a PC.
“I’m not saying the two cultures cannot live side by side-I’ve seen apartment buildings here where Arabs and Jews live together-but the two governments cannot.”
Ceasefire violation
The Israeli Ministry of Defense elected to close Gaza crossings to food and other goods, Wedensday, after a Qassam missile struck the Sha’ar HaNegev region Tuesday night. No injuries or damages were reported.
The attack continues a pattern of sporadic missile and mortar fire from Gaza at the western Negev since the ceasefire started June 19. In most cases, nobody has claimed responsibility.
Israel has refrained from responding militarily, but has maintained a policy of closing border crossings to goods in the aftermath.
Carmit and Oshri Malka are the parents of Noam, 6, and Idan, 4. A few days before our visit, as the last drops of water were still draining from Noam's and Idan's morning bath, a Kassam smashed through the roof of their home, leaving the newly renovated bathroom in a shambles, the small, neat house damaged and filled with debris, and the security of the family's world shattered forever. Only the goldfish still swimming freely in their tank, which remarkably survived intact, bore witness to the assault.
photo: Hamutal Ben Shitrit
"I can't bring the boys here to see this. It's too frightening," said Carmit Malka. Noam, she added, even before this happened, refuses to go to the bathroom without her because he's afraid he'll be caught literally with his pants down and unable to get to a shelter in time.
According to the SMC, more than 4,000 bombs have landed on the western Negev since Israel withdrew from Gaza in August 2005; more than 8,000 since the rocket attacks began in 2001. Eleven civilians have died and more than 500 have been injured. Every day, multiple rockets from Gaza are launched across the desert, targeted at the 250,000 Jewish civilians who live in Sderot, Netivot Ashkelon and 20 moshavim and kibbutzim in the region - civilians who live inside time-honored, internationally recognized borders of the state of Israel. Upwards of 750 families in Sderot do not have a bomb shelter or safe room.
Today, neither do the Malkas. Their bathroom doubled as their safe room. Now it lies in ruins. Rebuilding their home will be both emotionally and financially taxing for the family. The government is already stonewalling them in their efforts to apply for reimbursement for even a small portion of the damage to their home. The couple has resignedly joined the ranks of many others who have preceded them down this same road and hired a lawyer to sue the state. It will be a lengthy and costly process, with no guarantee of a successful outcome.
"We are not part of the country. The government doesn't care about us. We are alone here," said Oshri Malka. "Carmit said to me that we should load the Kassam that fell on our house on a truck and dump it on a street in Tel Aviv and start screaming, 'Look a Kassam has fallen here! Now what are you going to do?'" he recounted.
Sderot is a very surreal place. Even as terror rains from the sky, life continues on the ground. If you didn't know you were in a bomb zone, you wouldn't be able to tell from the pace and (near) normalcy of everyday life in the area. It is flowering and beautiful, like most towns in Israel. It is filled with people walking the streets and shopping in the supermarkets, customers idling over a coffee in the local café and the laughter of children echoing from the schoolyards.
But looks are deceiving. Life here is not like other places. When you enter Sderot, the first thing you do is unbuckle your seat belt. It's explained that the rule to "buckle up" doesn't apply in these parts. With only 15 seconds from rocket launch and the tzeva adom (red alert) siren to rocket explosion, the precious seconds you save by not having to unbuckle your belt may be the difference between making it to the safety of the nearest bomb shelter or dying in your car, which was the fate of one unfortunate soul.
It is not until you take a second look around that you notice the things which mark this place as different: a hard metal shell covering that school over there, making it look like a giant mechanical turtle about to spring to life; iron bars and steel on the end of that high school building, marking it as the "safe" section during an attack; the sunny yellow bus shelters built of re-enforced concrete that provide street-side havens for when the tzeva adom sounds and bomb shelters large; and small punctuating the blocks of businesses and residences.
What you don't see readily upon the landscape are the other signs of trauma to the town: the reduction in revenue of local businesses as citizens relocated to safer centers, taking their shopping dollars with them; the schools who have no students because they, too, have moved away; and the PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder), which, according to a recent study by Natal, the Israel Trauma Centre for Victims of Terror and War, afflicts up to 94 per cent of children ages seven to 12, and 28 per cent of adults in Sderot.
"I see it every day," explained Carmit Malka, a preschool teacher by profession. "The children, including even my own boys with their friends, play tzeva adom games. One child shouts, 'Tzeva adom, tzeva adom,' and the rest run and hide. They take turns playing dead."
In spite of everything, the Malkas' only goal now is to go home. They have no plans to relocate permanently to Ashkelon, where they have been staying in a hotel. The couple's roots, their families and their dreams of giving their children the same childhoods they enjoyed are all still in Sderot. Besides, Noam hid all the "For Sale" signs his mother made in a moment of despair and told her, "Mummy, don't bother looking for them, I hid them too well."
The Malkas had been on the verge of applying for a bank loan to cover the cost of repairs when they received my note telling them about our family's bat mitzvah donation. They literally received our news the day they'd decided to bite the mortgage bullet option. The note she wrote me was a tear jerker: "The Talmud says if you save one life, it is as if you've saved the world."
From Monkey in the Middle:
Again and again the politicians come and shake their heads, but nothing ever changes. For 8 years and 6919 rocket attacks, the Israeli government will not help these victims of terror.
What would you do if Sderot was your town, your city? What would the US government do if Sderot was San Diego or El Paso? How long would you let the rockets fall?
You can help. Please click on the logo for the Sderot Media Center and make a donation. The funds they raise help people like Carmit and Oshri Malka and their sons Noam and Idan. And please feel free to crosspost this too. For too long the Free World has been silent while this is happening, yet Hamas cries every time a child of theirs is scared by Israelis. Please help stop the silence and give your voice to these true victims of terror.
"I can't bring the boys here to see this. It's too frightening," said Carmit Malka. Noam, she added, even before this happened, refuses to go to the bathroom without her because he's afraid he'll be caught literally with his pants down and unable to get to a shelter in time.
According to the SMC, more than 4,000 bombs have landed on the western Negev since Israel withdrew from Gaza in August 2005; more than 8,000 since the rocket attacks began in 2001. Eleven civilians have died and more than 500 have been injured. Every day, multiple rockets from Gaza are launched across the desert, targeted at the 250,000 Jewish civilians who live in Sderot, Netivot Ashkelon and 20 moshavim and kibbutzim in the region - civilians who live inside time-honored, internationally recognized borders of the state of Israel. Upwards of 750 families in Sderot do not have a bomb shelter or safe room.
Today, neither do the Malkas. Their bathroom doubled as their safe room. Now it lies in ruins. Rebuilding their home will be both emotionally and financially taxing for the family. The government is already stonewalling them in their efforts to apply for reimbursement for even a small portion of the damage to their home. The couple has resignedly joined the ranks of many others who have preceded them down this same road and hired a lawyer to sue the state. It will be a lengthy and costly process, with no guarantee of a successful outcome.
"We are not part of the country. The government doesn't care about us. We are alone here," said Oshri Malka. "Carmit said to me that we should load the Kassam that fell on our house on a truck and dump it on a street in Tel Aviv and start screaming, 'Look a Kassam has fallen here! Now what are you going to do?'" he recounted.
Sderot is a very surreal place. Even as terror rains from the sky, life continues on the ground. If you didn't know you were in a bomb zone, you wouldn't be able to tell from the pace and (near) normalcy of everyday life in the area. It is flowering and beautiful, like most towns in Israel. It is filled with people walking the streets and shopping in the supermarkets, customers idling over a coffee in the local café and the laughter of children echoing from the schoolyards.
But looks are deceiving. Life here is not like other places. When you enter Sderot, the first thing you do is unbuckle your seat belt. It's explained that the rule to "buckle up" doesn't apply in these parts. With only 15 seconds from rocket launch and the tzeva adom (red alert) siren to rocket explosion, the precious seconds you save by not having to unbuckle your belt may be the difference between making it to the safety of the nearest bomb shelter or dying in your car, which was the fate of one unfortunate soul.
It is not until you take a second look around that you notice the things which mark this place as different: a hard metal shell covering that school over there, making it look like a giant mechanical turtle about to spring to life; iron bars and steel on the end of that high school building, marking it as the "safe" section during an attack; the sunny yellow bus shelters built of re-enforced concrete that provide street-side havens for when the tzeva adom sounds and bomb shelters large; and small punctuating the blocks of businesses and residences.
What you don't see readily upon the landscape are the other signs of trauma to the town: the reduction in revenue of local businesses as citizens relocated to safer centers, taking their shopping dollars with them; the schools who have no students because they, too, have moved away; and the PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder), which, according to a recent study by Natal, the Israel Trauma Centre for Victims of Terror and War, afflicts up to 94 per cent of children ages seven to 12, and 28 per cent of adults in Sderot.
"I see it every day," explained Carmit Malka, a preschool teacher by profession. "The children, including even my own boys with their friends, play tzeva adom games. One child shouts, 'Tzeva adom, tzeva adom,' and the rest run and hide. They take turns playing dead."
In spite of everything, the Malkas' only goal now is to go home. They have no plans to relocate permanently to Ashkelon, where they have been staying in a hotel. The couple's roots, their families and their dreams of giving their children the same childhoods they enjoyed are all still in Sderot. Besides, Noam hid all the "For Sale" signs his mother made in a moment of despair and told her, "Mummy, don't bother looking for them, I hid them too well."
The Malkas had been on the verge of applying for a bank loan to cover the cost of repairs when they received my note telling them about our family's bat mitzvah donation. They literally received our news the day they'd decided to bite the mortgage bullet option. The note she wrote me was a tear jerker: "The Talmud says if you save one life, it is as if you've saved the world."
From Monkey in the Middle:
Again and again the politicians come and shake their heads, but nothing ever changes. For 8 years and 6919 rocket attacks, the Israeli government will not help these victims of terror.
What would you do if Sderot was your town, your city? What would the US government do if Sderot was San Diego or El Paso? How long would you let the rockets fall?
You can help. Please click on the logo for the Sderot Media Center and make a donation. The funds they raise help people like Carmit and Oshri Malka and their sons Noam and Idan. And please feel free to crosspost this too. For too long the Free World has been silent while this is happening, yet Hamas cries every time a child of theirs is scared by Israelis. Please help stop the silence and give your voice to these true victims of terror.
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