Update from the Land of Apartheid: I was in Rami Levy buying fruit for the soldiers, and as I was done checking out the manager, who happened to be standing next to me starts speaking in a loud voice. As most olim, I try to latch on to one word I understand to help the rapid-fire jabbering fall into a context I can understand. He starts motioning to the back, and I thought he was asking if I could make a minyan, which is not uncommon. Then I heard azakah and that was enough. In the back of the store is a small shul which doubles as the shelter. I told my three kids to leave the cart and come with me to the back of the store. We went without panic, and the entire store started to file into the shelter shul. It didnt matter who you were; bagger, stockboy, soldier, cashier, customer - we all filed in. There wasnt a separate shelter for Arabs. There was no preferential treatment given to Jews. I didnt have to show my identity card. We were, all of us, equally at risk. We heard the boom, milled about for another couple of minutes, then retrieved our cart and carried on. Insert Beatles Day in the Life here.
Posted on: Tue, 29 Jul 2014 18:25:56 +0000
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