Page 12 - TORCH Magazine #13 - April 2019

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CUFI.ORG.UK
Hi. My name is Shaked.
I’m 17-years-old and live on Kibbutz Nir Am.
I want to tell you what it really means to live here, in the part of the State of Israel that is near the Gaza Strip. You’ve already heard about fires, Qassam rockets, and incendiary balloons.
But there is much more than that. Living here is something that remains with you for your entire life, without your choosing it. Because it’s simply impossible to forget past traumas.
So I want you to know that I have a fear of bunk-beds, because when you are in third grade and you fall out of bed in the middle of the night because you missed the ladder due to your panic from the Red Alert siren, it’s traumatic.
And I have a fear of climbing trees, even the tree in my own yard. Because when you fall out of a tree and hurt yourself, so that you can’t run to the bomb shelter after that, it’s traumatic.
When you can’t bear to hear loudspeaker announcements, the sound of moving chairs, the roar of a nearby plane, megaphones, car engines, or any sudden loud noise, that’s also from trauma.
Seeing my father going out to put out fires almost every day for the last eight months and then seeing him coming home smelling of smoke, and seeing in his eyes another burnt field and another animal covered in soot — yes, that too is traumatic.
Going to sleep on a mattress on the floor of a security room is traumatic.
Running in a sprint at speeds you did not know you had. Traumatic.
Seeing Grandma and Grandpa struggling to reach the security room on time, while you pray that they will make it there in time and that nothing will happen to them, is traumatic.