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Insecurity Strip: A Journey Between the Emptied Northern Settlements | Israel Hayom

2023-12-09T10:27:40.259Z

Highlights: Insecurity Strip: A Journey Between the Emptied Northern Settlements. The roads are crowded with military vehicles, the green tranquility is broken by the thunder of cannons, and the streets are empty. Eyal Levy wandered around the Western Galilee looking for the few brave people still in the abandoned region. Lebanese border settlements are waiting for the winter months. Don't look for "we'll be back" signs, because locals don't know when, and if, they'll return home.


The roads are crowded with military vehicles, the green tranquility is broken by the thunder of cannons, and the streets are empty • Eyal Levy wandered around the Western Galilee looking for the few brave people still in the abandoned region


Lebanese border settlements are waiting for the winter months. To the green fields, to families who come in droves, light the fireplace in the zimmer to feel a bit of Europe and on the way make fun of the environmental business. With all the offerings, the Galilean quiet cannot be bought with money, certainly not this winter.

The north in December 2023 is largely deserted, the roads are full of military Humvees and armored personnel carriers facing the border, and the constant soundtrack is the incessant booms of the artillery batteries deployed nearby. Don't look for "we'll be back" signs, because locals don't know when, and if, they'll return home. That probably won't happen when Hezbollah sits armed outside the door.

Moshav Avdon

In the Western Galilee lies the modest Moshav Abdon, established in the 50s by immigrants from Tunisia and Iran. Laborers, who went out every morning to the fields or chicken coop to collect eggs. But since the beginning of the war, helplessness has prevailed there. They hurried to evacuate nearby Kibbutz Metsova, fearing it would be harmed, while they left them at home.

"We contacted everyone we could," says Ofir Yakuty, a member of the moshav's secretariat. "The OC Northern Command, the Minister of Defense, ministers. No one got back to us. There is Government Decision 975 from 18 October, which requires evacuation of fence-adjacent communities within a range of up to 5 km. Our distance from the border is 3.7 km, so there is an excuse that the evacuation is carried out according to operational need. Why don't we and the kibbutz do? Is 200 meters the difference between life and death in the State of Israel? I would like whoever decided to spend half a day with me and say if he would raise a family here. So there is a dry instruction not to evacuate - but come and check. We've been crying out for more than a month. There are those here who suggest blocking roads, but we don't want to disturb the army. We're not like that."

Yakuti (45), a divorced father of three, was born in the moshav. He is not a farmer like his father, more in high-tech matters, and indeed - he has a modern house with spectacular views. At the same time, he offers to replace the luxurious house with our small apartments in the center, and he doesn't seem to be laughing - especially after pointing to dirt mounds in the nearby wadi from which IDF artillery fire into Lebanese territory.

Ofir Yakuti (right) and Itzik Niaken, in Moshav Avdon, photo: Moshe Shai

"As surreal as it gets," he smiles bitterly. "I'm sitting on the balcony watching the shooting. Sometimes it happens in the middle of the night, and then I literally jump out of bed. I sent the children to the United States two weeks later. There was terrible chaos here, so I convinced my ex-wife to get up and leave. Just run away. If I take you to the gate of the settlement and look at the ridge, you will see a Hezbollah position. The range of an anti-tank missile is 5 km. Imagine sending my son to the grocery store and sitting there 'Hezbollah' deciding to play the same god, whether to shoot or not. It's in his hands."

What do you want?
"Let them be removed from the fence with a serious surgical operation, after which people will feel safe. The second thing is recognition as an evacuated community, which is appropriately reimbursed, because we are finished. There is no agriculture, there is no tourism, there are no educational institutions. People come to me and say, 'I pay municipal taxes for housing and business, and I have to evacuate on my own. How?' People are leaving Abdon. After all, before our eyes, a security zone is now being formed, but inside Israeli territory. Today, if you turn along the route, you will see evacuated communities, and we are the front line against the Radwan force [Hezbollah's elite unit]."

Itzik Niaken, 68, who was born in Avdon and works in agriculture like his parents, joins the conversation. Avocado, lychee and especially chicken coops. "I have a 94% disability," he says. "The Thai who worked for me left, and he was my hands and feet. When the war began, I went at my own expense to a hotel in Netanya, when the Thai was still here. It was hot, and I asked him to open the water on the roof of the chicken coop to cool it down. He accidentally opened the water inside the chicken coop. For five days the water flowed, the wash and mixture were destroyed and the birds did not lay. Go explain it to a property tax officer. So far, I've received 4,867 shekels. It's funny. I'm not ashamed to say, 'I've run out of money.'"

Itzik is divorced and lives in an old house without a safe room, and the warning time from the fall is almost zero. All he has left is to pray. "I entered the Yishuv Committee in order to promote it to another place, because we have a change of generations," Ophir says. "Suddenly this blow hits us, and you have to deal with things you didn't think about. After all, who dreamed that they would come here to interview me?

"It's a moshav no one has heard of, another hole in the Western Galilee with a name with connotations of 'doom.' By the way, with the first missile it will be possible to replace the A with a - there will be no one here. If Hezbollah stays on the fence, I won't stay. Yes a farm, not a farm - I will sell it in lentil stew, with all my love for the place. Until recently, friends would come to me and say, 'How quiet,' and my usual phrase was 'the calm before the storm.' I knew it would come, everyone who lived here knew - but they don't count us. Only the first fatality will be counted."

שלומי

במרחק נסיעה קצר מעבדון שוכנת המועצה המקומית שלומי, שבניגוד לעבדון פונתה במהירות. ככה זה כשהבית האחרון נמצא 130 מטר מגדר הגבול, וכמה טילי נ"ט כבר חיפשו מטרות נוחות ביישוב.
ראש המועצה, גבי נעמן, ישב השבוע בלשכתו על הטלפון וניהל את המפונים, שמצאו בחודשיים האחרונים מקלט בירושלים, בחיפה ובטבריה. "אנחנו מתמודדים עם מצב שלא הכרנו", הודה.

"לקחנו יישוב של 9,000 תושבים ופיזרנו בשלושה מוקדים, והכי חשוב הוא שהצלחנו לייצר מענה לגני ילדים ולבתי ספר. פתחנו שני תיכונים, אחד בחיפה והשני בירושלים. היום ההתמודדות שלי היא לתת לתושבים להבין שהם יחזרו לשלומי כשתהיה בטוחה. אין ביטחון אם טרוריסטים נמצאים 130 מטר מהבתים שלנו".

מה זה ביטחון?
"הממשלה אמרה 'לא תחזרו לכאן כפי שיצאתם'. המשמעות היא שחיזבאללה לא יסתובבו לידנו, וזה אומר שלושה דברים: מלחמה רבתי, מלחמה והרחקת האויב עד מעבר לנהר הליטני, או הסכם בינלאומי שיכול להבטיח את המרחקים האלה. אני מקבל הרבה טלפונים מתושבים שאומרים 'תמשיך, יש לנו אורך רוח, תן לנו לחזור הביתה בצורה מושלמת'. אתן לך דוגמה קלאסית לגביי: לא נטשתי את שלומי, גם אידיאולוגית וגם בגלל התפקיד שלי. בהתחלה אשתי פחדה והתפנתה - ואז חזרה, כי לא רצתה להשאיר אותי לבד. במהלך היום היא בבית, עד שאני חוזר בערב. כל היום הדלתות נעולות והתריסים סגורים, למרות שיש הרבה חיילים ביישוב. היא עדיין חוששת מחדירת מחבלים. אחרי מה שראינו בדרום, אי אפשר להגיד 'לנו זה לא יקרה'. אני אומר לראש הממשלה 'לנו זה יקרה, ויותר גרוע, ולכן אסור להפקיר אותנו'. אם לא ידאגו לביטחון - לא נהיה פה, ואז בתוך כמה שנים יהיו להם טילים עם ראשי נפץ כימיים. איום קיומי".

דינה אביטל, צילום: משה שי

אל לשכת ראש העיר נכנס אלברט פרץ, מנכ"ל בית החולים הסיעודי בשלומי. פרץ הוא חבר טוב של ראש המועצה, ובימי שגרה, בכל בוקר בשעה 5:00 השניים עושים הליכה בחוף ראש הנקרה הסמוך. בחודשיים האחרונים פרץ ומשפחתו נמצאים בבית מלון בירושלים, עם עוד כ־1,000 מפונים.

"מלון מצוין, הכל טוב ויפה. אז לשבוע זה נחמד, אבל כמה זמן אפשר לשהות בחדר שגודלו 15 מטר מרובע?", הוא שאל. "אנשים קצת משתגעים, אבל מאוד נחושים במובן של 'אין לנו לאן לחזור'. הבעיה המרכזית היא הסמיכות לגדר. זה לוקח דקה ורבע לחצות את הגבול, להגיע לבית הראשון, לשחוט, לאנוס, לחטוף ילדים. זה מטפטף ומבהיל. רבותיי המכובדים, כוח רדואן של חיזבאללה זה 10,000 לוחמים מיומנים. קבל סיפור קטן: הילדה שלי בת 16, לומדת בכיתה י"א. זה כבר לא רק שלומי - היא מפחדת גם בירושלים, אחרי שהיו שם כמה פיגועים. היא לא רוצה לצאת מהמלון. הורים אצלנו חששו שילדיהם ייסעו בהסעות לבית הספר ללא ליווי של איש ביטחון. אנחנו בירושלים הרחוקה ונמצאים בחרדות".

"בטח שאני מפחדת לפתוח, אבל אתה יודע מה משכנע אותי להגיע? שמאחורי הבומים של התותחנים יש גברים צעירים, הפרחים הכי יפים בגינה. יודע כמה מהם גידלתי? את סבא שלהם, את אבא שלהם ועכשיו אותם"




ראש המועצה שומע את דברי חברו, מסדר את הדפים שעל שולחנו ואומר: "מדאיגה אותנו העובדה שנכנסים כעת לחורף, ובחורף אין מלחמות. האם נצטרך לשהות מחוץ לבתים עד שהחורף יעבור, ואז אולי המדינה תיכנס לעימות עם חיזבאללה? אם אתה שואל אותי, צריך להגיע לנקודה מסוימת בדרום ואז להניע כאן את הצבא שייכנס פנימה. יש פה טנקים, שופלים, תותחים. צריך לגייס גיוס גדול ולהיכנס לתהליך של כיבוש דרום לבנון - אקט שיביא לשינוי דרמטי בחשיבה הבינלאומית, וייצר כאן משהו אחר. צריך שם כוח בינלאומי חזק ומשמעותי, ואיתו שמירה על זכותנו לפגוע במי שנכנס לשטח המפורז. זה המינימום בעיני כל תושבי הצפון".

There are only a few residents left in Shlomi. Here and there they walked around the street this week, some of them entering the pharmacy in the shopping center, run for 21 years by Joseph Abed, from the village of Mi'ilya in the Upper Galilee. "Are you asking if it's worthwhile to open? Not at all," Abed replies honestly. "I have to provide service to evacuees who need prescriptions and to soldiers in the area, because the closest place after us is Nahariya or Kfar Yassif, and most of the time the roads are closed. The pharmacists who work with me have fled and don't want to come back, and I understand them."

Abed's distance house is 2 meters from the public shelter, but he knows that if there is shelling, he won't be able to make it in time. So he found a corner in the pharmacy where the walls were thick enough and moved the refrigerator out of it, and he's hiding there when the noises start.

"We have a lot of pressure," he says. "People are in a state of mind on their faces. I've known most of them for decades, and they ask me for quantities of medicine. Especially two types - for sedation and anti-anxiety. After what they've seen in the south, people imagine tunnels, spread word of mouth and believe delusional things, and you can't tell them, 'It can't be.' Here it is impossible to predict what is to come. Maybe now it's all well and good – and suddenly boom."

On leaving Shlomi, we entered the legendary business "Dina's Shakshuka", which Dina Avital has been running from Nahariya for more than 41 years. It opened the place a few months before the First Lebanon War. A business that sits on a central intersection and feeds truck drivers, soldiers, laborers, but is now almost empty.

"I sat at home for three weeks, but I'm a woman of work. My daughter says 'addicted,'" Dina lets out her rolling laughter, adding: "Sure I'm afraid to open up, but you know what convinces me to come? Behind the booms of the artillery there are young men, the most beautiful flowers in the garden. Do you know how many of them I've raised? You're their grandfather, their father and now them."

She's just talking - and another loud boom is heard. A small dog rushes into the kitchen and hides under the table. "It's not mine," she clarifies. "Because of fear, quite a few animals come into me, because a dog hears three times better than you do, and knows exactly when the shell is in the barrel. Come, I'll give you water," she tells the dog, which continues to hide. "These are our bombings, not theirs," she tries to reassure him.

Moshav Yaara

On Route 899, which runs parallel to the border fence, is Moshav Yaara. Along with a Jewish population, it also has Bedouin residents. Most of the residents make their living from tourism and, of course, chicken coops. The entire line from the Western Galilee to Metula is Israel's main egg supplier. This week, the session is packed with military personnel, who have found a place to gather there.

After many minutes, I find Ronit Ezra on the street, who left for Krayot, but returned alone, without her husband, because of the four dogs she raises. "I found Cain at the beach, after chasing him for four days," she points to one of her dogs. "I've had it for seven years. I brought Palma from Ashkelon after they asked to put her to sleep, who is already 16 and can barely see. How can I leave them alone, I don't have a heart? They are like my children. So for the first few days I fled to the Krayot, but I came back and found them terrified. I said I wasn't leaving anymore. I looked for them a hotel, hostel, pension - and couldn't find any. So if there are sirens, they run with me to the nearby shelter."

What do domestic animals do here?
"A lot of dogs run to the soldiers' assembly areas. I have a chip reader in my car, so I get there and call the owner, who turns out to have escaped to a hotel."

Ronit Ezra and the dogs in Moshav Yaara, photo: Moshe Shai

Ronit was born in Nahariya and came to Yaara following in her husband's footsteps, but now she says the intention is to leave. "People don't want to go back, especially after what happened in the envelope," she says. "Hezbollah is sitting right here, look at their outpost," she says, looking at the nearby mountain. "There are outposts all along the ridge, and until recently there were yellow flags on them. They would stand with binoculars and dazzle us. What do I need to get up in the morning and find Hezbollah here? Only if we don't, they will come to you. People don't understand that just like they ate it in the Gaza envelope, we could have eaten it one morning. If I had the chance, I would get up and go. They just renovated us on the houses and we'll get out of here."

Esther Bitton, Ronit's neighbor, just returns home and says that living anywhere is dangerous. "Not like here," Ronit replies. "We are a kilometer and a half from the border. If people in Moshav Avdon are scared to death, what are we going to say?"

"At first I ran away, but I came back and found the dogs terrified. I'm not leaving anymore. If there are sirens, they run with me to the shelter."




Bitton takes me into her house and shows me the collection of dolls she has embroidered and knitted since the beginning of the war, partly to pass the time. One of the dolls she made was intended for the young daughter of SWAT soldier Maj. Jurai Cohen, her husband's nephew, who was killed in the south on the first day of the war. "Our lives are not easy," she sighs.

Shtula moshav

After we receive permission from the IDF to enter, the alert squad at the gate of Moshav Shtula recommends that we drive the adjacent section of road especially quickly. That's how it was when, on 15 October, Mufid al-Zeir, a construction worker from Abu Snan, was killed in the community by Hezbollah's precision anti-tank fire.

Shtula is a battle-torn settlement. Infiltrations of terrorists, mining of fields. There is no IDF operation that has not been spared, and on 12 July 2006, just below it, at a bend between it and Moshav Zarit, IDF soldiers Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev were kidnapped, marking the beginning of the Second Lebanon War. The community is evacuated from residents – but not from Avner Eliyahu, 67, who did not leave the M-16 during our entire conversation.

Major (res.) Eliyahu knows Lebanon like the back of his hand. He was Meir Dagan's operations officer, who at the time commanded the EDL (southern Lebanon region), and stayed there for five years in the late 70s and early 80s. "First of all, the IDF must finish the work in Gaza, because right now the eyes of the Arab countries are on us, and if we don't overcome Hamas, we are finished," he is convinced. "They must be crushed, and I'll tell you the truth – I won't be sorry if they don't rebuild Gaza. They will finish there and move to Lebanon, and I inform you that if the war management team works properly, we will eliminate them."

How exactly?
"Listen carefully to what Avner Eliyahu tells you: In Lebanon, Hezbollah's power is greater than Hamas, but it is possible to wage a classic war there. Lebanon has four longitudinal bands: the coastal plain, Mount Lebanon, the Bekaa Valley, and the ridge opposite Lebanon, half of which is in Syria. Lebanon is divided by rivers – the Zahrani, the Litani, al-Awali, Ibrahim and Al Bared. You can isolate space cells. For example, there are three bridges on the Litani: Al Qasemia, Aqiya and Hardala. You blow up the bridges – and you can't move from one area cell to another. As soon as the war begins, leaflets will be distributed asking all residents to move north. With 2 million refugees in Beirut, you crush them."

Avner Eliyahu in Moshav Shtula, Photo: Moshe Shai

Elijah says that with his sharpened senses, he anticipated the war even before it broke out. A few days before Rosh Hashanah, he sent a letter to the commander of the regional brigade and the head of the regional council, in which he wrote: "In the simplest scenario, dozens or hundreds of Hezbollah operatives will infiltrate Shtula in times of crisis – say between 1:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m., in an event that can take several minutes. At the same time, they will rain bomb fire on Nurit, and the post will be busy with its event," he added. "Within minutes, Thule will be conquered and washed in blood and fire, without the ability to defend. I believe that within three or four days the picture will change, and the IDF will be on its way to 'winning' – but what will be the price?"

"I wrote to them because there were no fighters in Shtula except for the alert squad, and what can you do with an undrafted squad? It's at the wedding, it's at the parents' house," Elijah says. "They kept telling us, 'Don't worry, Hezbollah is deterred,' but at the same time I saw that they started building towers and training. Following the letter, during the holidays, a squad of fighters came to us. It's not complete, but it gives you a sense of security as a citizen."

"אני מודיע לך שאני לוחם־על ורק יכול לתרום לצעירים כאן. מי היו הלוחמים הכי טובים בעזה? המבוגרים. אנחנו לא רצים, אנחנו מחכים בסבלנות וטיק־טק מורידים. אני לא מפחד. בלבנון חיזבאללה ניסו להוריד אותי חמש פעמים"




אבנר הוא אחד מ־13 ילדיו של צלאח בן ה־91, שהדליק משואה ביום העצמאות האחרון. בשגרה הוא מורה דרך שמפעיל עסק תיירות במושב, וכעת הוא חוזר לימיו הקשוחים בצבא. "חתמתי על נשק, ואני מודיע לך שאני לוחם־על ורק יכול לתרום לצעירים כאן. הרי מי היו הלוחמים הכי טובים ברצועת עזה? המבוגרים. אנחנו לא רצים, אנחנו מחכים בסבלנות וטיק־טק מורידים. אני לא מפחד. בלבנון חיזבאללה ניסו להוריד אותי חמש פעמים".

התושבים יחזרו לשתולה?
"אני סקפטי. כרגע יש פה כוח צבאי גדול, אבל מה יהיה אחר כך? יהיו חייבים לסלק את האיום. אני תמיד קורא לשעות הלילה 'שעות המשבר', בין 1:00 ל־6:00 בבוקר, כשאנשים רדומים, ואז בתוך עשר דקות יכולים להיכנס לפה יותר מ־300 לוחמי רדואן שישטפו את שתולה - ואין מי שיעמוד מולם. בתקופה האחרונה אני כמעט לא ישן בלילה. תופס בבוקר שעה-שעתיים, ובצהריים קצת. מוכן עם הנשק. אנחנו רוצים לחיות כאן בביטחון, זה התנאי".

טעינו? נתקן! אם מצאתם טעות בכתבה, נשמח שתשתפו אותנו

Source: israelhayom

All news articles on 2023-12-09

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