By Malka Cramer, other
When the warning sirens blaze their deafening sound through the morning air and the bombs begin to drop all around the small kibbutzim in southern Israel, one thought goes through each person’s mind: Where can I seek shelter within the next 15 seconds?
This is not something out of Hollywood. Nearly every day, and sometimes many times a day, this is reality for hundreds of people who live close to the Gaza Strip. However, the wounds these civilians suffer are not only visible on the outside. There are deeper, invisible wounds, with some so deep they refuse to heal and begin to eat at the injured from within.
Chen Abrahams, the resource development director for the Gvanim organization, which helps Israelis deal with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, traveled to the United States to bring knowledge to those who may not be fully aware of the situation for citizens who live in the towns and kibbutzim around the Gaza Strip, which she knows all too well from firsthand experience.
“With the disengagement of Gush Katif, I thought, this will bring peace,” Abrahams said, referring to the Israel’s withdrawal from Gaza four years ago, “[but] things since then only got worse.”
Abrahams visited Seattle on May 13 to speak about her organization and its mission.
For nine years, southern Israel has been bombarded with thousands of missiles. When the “red alert” sirens go off, the citizens of the region know they need to take cover within 15 seconds or stand still and pray, Abrahams said. In 2006, when Hamas gained full control of the Gaza Strip, she added, things seemed to only worsen. They released 5,000 rockets upon the surrounding kibbutzim, causing many people to lose their homes and whatever sense of security they had left.
“All our lives have been shaped by this security situation,” Abrahams said.
The bombings have changed the way southern Israelis live their daily lives. Abrahams put it into perspective as she explained that when a mother leaves the house, she must decide whether to take one child in the car or two. Since a bombing can happen anytime, anywhere, the mother needs to think of the likelihood of getting both children unstrapped, out of the car and under cover within the 15-second safe window of the bombs. All the while, she is still keeping in mind that there are some bombs that have no warnings at all.
“Toddlers in Sderot know when they hear the ‘red alert’ to lift their hands up, because they know that an adult will come and pick them up and bring them to safety,” said Abrahams, who herself has a 9-year-old son who has grown up in the region.
The ones who appear to most suffer from these war-like conditions are the children. They grow up with the instinct of warfare defense and an extensive knowledge of missiles, guns, tanks and mortars. A recent study done in Israel found 70 to 90 percent of children in the shelled areas suffer from different aspects of trauma, Abrahams said. Youth are developing learning disabilities, concentration disabilities, depression and violent behavior.
“It’s in the quiet times that the demons come out,” Abrahams said.
When the shelling is going on, there is very little chance to think about anything else. However, when it’s “quiet time” in the towns — between one and 10 missiles a week— people begin to unclench their fists and look around at their homes in horror and wonder what happened to the beloved, quiet town or kibbutz they grew up in. During these “quiet times” reports of crime, violence, and substance abuse are higher.
These problems are the invisible wounds that Abrahams and her organization or trying so hard to fight. Coming from a communications background, Abrahams reflected on the state of the news media. She said that Israeli news is all blood and guns and other familiar scenes of warfare. But to her, it’s the emotional and developmental wounds the trauma victims of these regions carry around with them on a daily basis that seem more urgent.
“Nobody cares about them,” Abrahams said, “and nobody’s counting them.”
This is where Gvanim comes in. The organization’s staff goes into these areas hit the most and set up workshops and programs to help the people of the towns and kibbutzim get their lives back on track. The Sderot Early Childhood Center, for example, is a place where child psychiatry meets parental support, with certified staff to help small children deal with the traumas the shelling left behind.
Gvanim has a string of networks all around Israel to help its citizens cope with the physical and emotional issues that have developed over the nine-year span of bombardment. These programs also offer housing solutions for those who may have lost their homes and help young adults develop the professional and leadership skills needed to help them along in society.
No matter how hard Abrahams and her colleagues try, she said, there is always more to be done. Funds are a constant worry for the organization, since they rely greatly on donations. By coming to the U.S. and bringing awareness to the its citizens about attacks that fall under the media radar are some of the most effective ways to help those residents who need it, Abrahams said.