Arabs attacked an Israeli motorist late on Thursday night as he drove in Samaria, near the Palestinian Authority-controlled city of Kalkilya. The motorist was lightly wounded in the attack.But now that Elie has settled back into the "routine" of a non-war war, I can call him and hear his voice quite often. Conversely, if I listen to the news, as I do, and react each time there is something near where my son is stationed, how many calls would I make in a single day?
The answer for today, would be at least twice.
An Israeli was lightly injured Thursday evening when the car he was travelling in was hit by rocks next to the Samarian Palestinian Authority village of Azoun, east of Kalkilye.In addition to all the rock throwing attacks, there was news that Fatah had decided to go to war against Hamas in Kalkilya. Last week, six were killed (3 Fatah members, 2 Hamas members, and one bystander). Today, four more were killed. Last week, it happened on the days that Elie was home. He spoke to his commanding officer and found out that Israeli troops moved near the entrance to Kalkilya in case violence spilled over and they had to enter.
"Why would they enter?" I asked Elie. "The Palestinians want independence - fine, leave them to do what they want."
"They didn't go in," Elie explained. "The Israelis were there to make sure the violence didn't spill over," and, Elie continued, "to evacuate the wounded." But no wounded came out.
I thought it amazing that the world was silent that six Palestinians had been killed in a single day. But then again, they weren't killed by the Israeli army, so the world didn't bother to notice. "Ima, the Palestinians HATE each other," Elie told me. He explained about the rivalries, the hatred, and more.
Today, another four were killed. I wanted to call Elie. No, Israel didn't go in, but I wanted to hear that he was fine and hopefully not even one of the ones standing nearby. I consider it a triumph over fear when I manage not to call. It's a test that I fail too often. I don't want him thinking that I live my life in fear of something happening to him. No, wait, that's silly, of course I live my life in fear something will happen. So, rather, let me say I don't want him to think I am crippled by the fear. I'm not.
I function, I work, I parent, I do all that I have to do while inside a part of me is always on alert, always listening for those words that shatter my concentration. Sometimes they are general words like "IDF" or "soldier" and sometimes they are more specific like "Kalkilye" or "Azoun."
Most times, I am able to beat back the concern and function. Sometimes I give in and call. Each time, Elie sounds the same - nothing to worry about; it was really nothing. I've had this post in "draft" mode for a few days. This morning, I am finishing it with news that
Palestinian Authority terrorists bombed an IDF force on Saturday near the city of Kalkilye. The bomb thrown at the soldiers did not explode, and the soldiers were unhurt.I didn't beat this one. I called. Elie was half asleep having been on patrol during the night. At first he acted like he didn't know what I was talking about (or perhaps that I didn't know). I read him the news alert above. His comment, "Ima, it was a little bomb and it didn't explode. They threw it at the fence. No one was hurt."
Some day, when Elie has a son in the army, I hope I'll remember the comment about "a little bomb." There is just no way he'll understand what my reaction was any time soon. "A little bomb"?
Makes me want to give him a kiss on one cheek and a slap on the other! Maybe I will do exactly that when I see him later this week...and when I do, I'll have to remember to tell him that was for the "little bomb."