The pain in flying home: Torn by loyalty and faith

I have seen the incredible range of emotions recently felt by every person in Israel. No one has not cried, cheered, been struck speechless, been angry, been confused or been horrified. I know this from the atmosphere on the buses, the tension on campus and from the increasing silence on streets and in public places. And these emotions are most definitely shared by the Palestinians. No one knows exactly how to feel, and that is perfectly paralleled by no one really knowing what to do. A friend today expressed it perfectly by saying, "If anyone knew what it is that they wanted, we would be able to end this war." And it is a war, declared or undeclared, of that I am sure.

Tuesday, April 10 was Yom Hashoah, the day that Jews all over the world remember the victims of the Holocaust. As I sat in the enormous, awe-striking ceremony held here at Ben-Gurion University, watching the audience's respect during the memorial silence marked by the air raid siren heard all over the nation, 13 Israeli soldiers were blown up by suicide terrorists in Jenin. The next day, as 15 families in total buried their sons or brothers from the Yom Hashoah tragedies, a bus driving from Haifa to Jerusalem in the early morning was blown up by another suicide bomber, killing eight commuters, two of whom were young girls around my age. When I walked into the campus café to get tea before my 8:30 a.m. class, I saw the news about the bus attack and wanted to vomit. I wanted to throw a tantrum, break down on the floor and cry, do something. I needed to have some kind of reaction worthy of the value of the 23 young people who had given their lives in the past day for the military, political and ideological pillars for which this country stands.

The situation here is best described as disgusting. Palestinians believe there is some kind of special heaven for them if they kill dozens of Jews as they commit suicide for national independence. Israeli soldiers exchange fire with Palestinians, killing dozens each day, in hopes that they will be able to maintain some kind of civil life for the Israeli people. I just want to knock some sense into the heads of those on both sides. How do the Palestinian terrorist organizations really believe that by killing Israeli civilians they are going to gain their independence as a nation? How does the Israeli government think that the terror attacks will stop if they keep the entire Palestinian people down through military force? I see no intelligence or cleverness in the political activities of either side.

The worst predicament for me, ironically, is making plans to leave Israel. For anyone following the news, it is no surprise that most of my family and friends have expressed their considerable an-xiety about my being here and most have asked me to come home. Just yesterday I made plane reservations to return to the states at the end of my academic semester here, and yet I felt an unexpected amount of disloyalty as I hung up with the travel agent.

I think this feeling sprang from two different wells of emotion. The more I read about American policy regarding this situation, the greater need I feel to stay here and stand by Israel's ideological foundation. Bush's refusal to negotiate with the Taliban regarding Afghanistan because of US policy against negotiation with terrorists completely contradicts the governmental decision to send Powell to talk with Arafat, who has been proven to financially reward the families of suicide bombers for their "martyrdom." For our president to say he supports Israel's right to protect itself, and then publicly demand the Israeli Defense Forces' immediately retreat from the occupied territories, where new supplies of arms are being discovered in civilian houses every day, makes me tuck away my American flag.

Secondly, here I am, appearing to show the ultimate level of solidarity with Israel and the people who live here in order that a Jewish state might exist, and at the end of my contracted time I am hopping on a plane to go back to my nice, cushy couch in the family room of my parents' house in Florida. If I am truly showing solidarity, why I am leaving as soon as I have no further excuse to stay?

It pains me to argue against my father, who says, "I support Israel, but why do I have to do so with my daughter's life?" but I am tired of public rhetoric. I am tired of reading radical political articles by those who are pro-Israel and anti-occupation alike, but all of whom are not here.

The situation here makes me ill and it takes my emotions on a rollercoaster every day. I hate seeing blood on Israeli roads as much as on the walls of Palestinian buildings, but I am here. I am not running away, and when I do leave, it will be with an ache in my heart that sickens me right along with the acts of hatred and indifference that are performed between both groups in this seemingly endless conflict. Dena Schlamowitz is from Vero Beach, Fl. She can be reached at denasch@bgumail.bgu.ac.il.