Hafooga

 

As a marketing writer, I get a bit pedantic when it comes to English. While it might sound petty, when I see Hebrew words transliterated, I can’t help but cringe when a word is written using the “wrong” vowels. Let’s take the Hebrew word for “market” for example. Most people would transliterate it as shuk. While technically, there’s nothing illegal about writing “shook”, I just think it looks ridiculous. Another example: Once, someone posted something on Facebook about her children’s gan – or preschool. Except she spelt it “gun” and used the expression repeatedly throughout her post. One polite responder concluded her response imploring the poster to please spell it gan. Get the idea?

Last week in Israel was all about hafooga. If you were to ask an English-speaking youngster to imagine a hafooga, they might describe some sort of enchanted creature, a magical object or even a secret ritual. As silly as the word might sound, and whether you transliterate the word using “oo” or “u”, last week’s hafooga was all about something much more serious: the lull in fighting and rocket fire from Hamas. Over several days, Israel, Jews around the world, and our supporters, were united in the relief of seeing women and children coming out Hamas captivity alive. Each evening, we’d follow the news waiting to see who would be released and watch the footage as Hamas put on their big show, handing the captives to the Red Cross as thousands of gun toting Palestinians shouted Allahu Akbar. The next day, we would watch the footage of family reunions on Israeli soil and share in the joy and celebration of life.

Of course none of them will ever be the same. Many have parents and other relatives who were murdered. And some have fathers, brothers, cousins and friends amongst the 136 others, including children and babies still being held in what those who returned described as truly inhumane conditions. For the survivors, who knows what the long-term psychological and physical effects will be.

And just as the hafooga started, it came to an end. Hamas, it would seem, calculated that it was better to expose their population to more Israeli wrath than release any more Jews. And let’s not forget, they’re also holding Thais and Bedouin. It seems they don’t care about them either.

And so began the ritual of once again of preparing the safe room and the anxiety of loud noises being the sign of impending rockets.

Now, let's go back to Thursday, while we were still in the midst of the lull. That morning, I had a dilemma when my youngest asked to take a bus to spend Shabbat with my older daughter who lives near Tel Aviv. My first reaction was to let her go. But then I thought what would happen if negotiations break down and the rockets start coming down again. The concern was that amidst the quiet, Hamas were busy restocking their launchers and preparing more rockets to shoot at Israeli civilians. How safe would it be for a 13 year old to be travelling alone by bus around Tel Aviv?

Ultimately, we calculated that the lull would likely hold until such time that she’d arrive at her sister. If things heated up later, she’d simply stay there until it was safe enough for her to go back. As things turned out, she made it back to school OK, but it was just another example of the anxiety that we’re all dealing with on a daily basis.

Meanwhile, as the war enters its third month and world leaders scramble to negotiate another hafooga, there are still children being held captive in Hamas tunnels who can’t take buses to visit their sisters, or even go outside and play like normal kids. They can only dream of enchanted creatures and magical objects to help maintain their sanity, as the rest of the world looks on in apathy.