My daughter came back from London this morning. As usual my worries were in vain and everything is fine. Due to the nature of her work she had two security guards there and she even enjoyed the streets of London which she loves so much.

Here the girl enjoys the sweets and perfumes that her mother brought.

Luckily for us there is still a ceasefire and our lives are going on like life anywhere else in the world, more or less.

The television is still on since six in the morning and we are following the return of the captives to Gaza. In the meantime, children and mothers and grandmothers who were kidnapped on Saturday morning are being returned, they were taken barefoot and with their pyjamas.                                                           Now on TV the  daughter of one of the grandmothers)84( who was returned yesterday,   she is in danger of life because for 54 days she did not receive her medication. Her son met with the representatives of the Red Cross and gave them the medicines but they never reached her,                               The four-year-old girl Abigail also returned yesterday from captivity in Gaza. She was there alone because her parents were murdered in their home. She fled to the neighbors' house and was taken prisoner with the mother and the three children of the neighbors, ages 4, 10 and 9.                                             Abigail also has Irish citizenship. The Prime Minister of Ireland talked about her but was unable to tell the truth. He said "Abigail got lost and came back". This tells the whole story of hypocrisy and the inability to look reality in the eyes and tell the truth.                                                                                         The children's hospitals that were preparing to receive the captive children who lived for 54 days in dark tunnels in Gaza tried to learn in advance how to receive them but were unable to find any previous experience in the world for such a case.                                                                                                       They established a department that is like a hotel and do everything for the children who return. They even brought the pets there that the kids missed so much. Unfortunately not all pets survived, they also shot dogs and cats.                                                                                                                   In an hour the additional list of the children who will return today will be published, we all hope that the nine-month-old baby will also be among them.

The day after tomorrow or tomorrow the ceasefire will end. No one really knows what will happen here.

four in the morning

 I've been awake since four in the morning, I woke up in a panic and I've been awake ever since, probably the thing that scares me the most is mice.

I heard a mouse, or so I thought, and I couldn't continue sleeping, I brought Philip the cat into the room, I never allow him to enter the bedroom but this time he had a role, he purred happily and was excited but it didn't seem that he suspected anything. He is an excellent hunter and I trust him.                                                         Soon I will turn on the TV and reality will take over my thoughts again. The frequency of the alarms and the rocket fire here is decreasing, but there are still sounds of war in the background.                                              My daughter is supposed to go to London for work for a week and I will be with the  grandchildren. I warn her not to speak Hebrew in the street and to hide any identifying mark ץ                                                                                                                                                                      Doesn't it remind you of other dark times?                                                                                                                                                                                     

                   

thoughts

 I knew this moment would come. Now that I'm on the side of the "bad guys" I'm very sensitive to nuances. I notice who no longer comments here and make my interpretation which may be wrong but that is my sensitivity.                                                                                                                                                                  I would so much like things to go differently but I have no control over what happens.

Yesterday I was at the hairdresser, there were few people there, we talked among ourselves in the silence and pain of shared fate. This country is small and everyone knows more than one person who was killed, kidnapped or missing, there was no need to justify or explain anything. No one had to "pick a side", we are all on this side.                                                                                                                                                           I read in the blogs of people not from here how difficult it is for them with this situation in the world and I feel a little guilty, I know I'm not really guilty but I started to think that maybe it is no longer possible to separate "who I am" in blogland from a difficult story of pain and sadness,                                                             I still can't find the real reason why I'm sharing my thoughts here, I'm not sure that those who don't go through it can really understand. Blogland is a kind of "imagined reality" where real people exist, apparently their opinion is very important to me otherwise I wouldn't bother to explain it.

And finally, if I succeed I will upload a picture of the meatballs I made today. This also happens here.              before cooking.

The thirty-seventh day

I myself am surprised by what great anxiety, despair, helplessness and fear bring out of me. The flurry of comments on poor Weaver's blog who herself is a victim of misinformation, the arguments I get into here in blogland trying to explain reality as it is to people who refuse to see.                                                                                                                                                                             I always read here how much the heart of one or another blogger hurts for the children of Gaza, I have never read that the heart hurts because of an Israeli child.                                         A bit of history - the British after they finished ruling here divided what they called Palestine-Israel into two countries. Egypt should have received the Gaza Strip but refused and tried to invade Israel from the south. They were stopped by the small Israeli army in the south and thus the Gaza Strip remained outside of Egypt, no one wanted them. Israel provided them with water, electricity and more for many years. allowed them to enter and work here. The Egyptians do not allow them to stay in Egypt for more than twenty-four hours.                                        The people of Zaka, who have been collecting remains of bodies from terrorist attacks that were here for twenty years and also arrived at the homes of the victims in the houses burned on the seventh of October, say that on the refrigerators they found a list of people from Gaza and travel times, they transported people and children from Gaza to medical treatments in hospitals. These good people are hostages in Gaza or dead. Most of them are in their seventies and eighties.                                                                                                                                         In 2006 the residents of Gaza chose Hamas to rule over them and since then their lives have changed for the worse. Hamas is ISIS and it is not only an organization but also an idea, the idea is to rule Islam all over the world, even in the most brutal ways, and it will not end here. We actually also protect you in London, Yorkshire and Bath from the day they get there. They are actually already there but still quiet. Waiting for an opportunity.                                                Hamas is hiding in hospitals in Gaza, I just heard a recorded conversation between an Israeli army commander and the director of the hospital in Gaza, the Israeli instructed the doctor which streets to pass with the patients they were evacuating from the hospital, the Hamas people shoot them so they don't leave and the Israeli army guards them so they can cross safely to the south of the Gaza Strip .                                                                                                There is a video of a nurse in a hospital in Gaza crying that Hamas is stealing the medicine from the sick children.

Israel does not commit war crimes and anyone who writes like that is committing an injustice. Imagine if one day London, Yorkshire or Bath were bombarded with thousands of rockets, what would your government or army do? (Who shelled Dresden?), don't believe what you see or read on the bbc, they have been distorting the facts for a long time and always against us.                                                                                                                                   The war is now going on in the north as well and it is possible that the next few days will be even more difficult.

Yesterday there were a few sentences in Blogland that were like an arrow in my heart and I thought I would no longer write here, but this morning I woke up with the decision that I must continue precisely because of this, because of the twisting of the truth and the small chance that there are some people who understand what is happening here.                                                 

 

The picture is from another time. The children grew up in the meantime.

On my last visit to them in a conversation with the fifteen year old grandson, he wanted to give me an example of an irrational decision and gave as an example my decisions to travel to them while there is a danger of rockets. It was his attempt to show me how sometimes emotion makes us make irrational decisions. I was very happy that this was the example he chose.                                                                         I'm still debating how and what to write here. Do people really want to read with their morning coffee about such a harsh reality? On the other hand, this is my blog and maybe this is my place to write what really hurts me.                                                                                                                                                  I find myself arguing with people on other blogs, arguing in a way that only great pain and deep anxiety can bring out of me and I have a hard time with it because it leaves me in great helplessness in the face of the lack of understanding that exists regarding the real situation.                                                          The position of a victim is a position that the world accepts with understanding, but as soon as the victim is fighting for his life and does not have a multitude of options to choose from, things change.                                                                                                                                                                       I will soon be on the road again, a relative asked me to take him to visit my daughter, for the past few weeks he has been afraid to join me and if the relative calm continues we will set off. The problem is on the way, you have to get out of the car and lay on the ground, I can lie down, I'm not sure I can get up easily. I hope I don't have to test it.

family

 I receive worried messages from relatives all over the world. They are all great-grandchildren of my grandmother's sisters.

From Johannesburg and Cape Town in South Africa, Copenhagen in Denmark, Sao Paulo in Brazil, Chemnitz in Germany. A small town in Alabama whose name I forgot, there are also in Australia and England but I haven't heard from them yet.                                                                                                                           These are the eight sisters. The only brother for some reason does not appear in the picture. The picture was taken around 1905 in Leipzig, Germany. The four little sisters, including my grandmother who was about five years old when the picture was taken, left Germany in 1933. My grandmother was already the mother of a six-year-old girl (my mother) and had to leave Berlin, where she lived then, and to abandon the shops she had there in Alexander Platz.                                                                Tsila, the eldest sister, left for South Africa many years before the rise of the Nazis, one of her grandsons was Nelson Mandela's advocate and had to flee South Africa, the Australians refused to accept him and that's how he came to England. He was very successful there and even became a lord.                                  Ida and her husband Jacob ran a Jewish orphanage in Oslo. The Nazis sent her husband to Auschwitz with many of their housemates. She was disabled and therefore saved.

Anna went to Alabama to meet Jacob's brother, she married him and stayed there. Bertha married a German in Chemnitz. When the Nazis wanted to take her he broke her leg and that's how she was saved.

Louisa and her husband sent one child to Denmark and one child to Israel even before the war. They did not manage to leave in time and arrived at Auschwitz.

Sophie stayed with the old father in Leipzig, he eventually managed to reach his daughter in Oslo but she did not manage to survive in Germany.

And that's why we have so many relatives all over the world.

My grandmother Dora lived here for sixty years. She never managed to learn Hebrew properly and that's why I understand German as my mother tongue.

I still miss her and the wonderful foods she made all my childhood. She was an artist, a talented painter, but there was always the feeling that she was someone who was uprooted from her roots.                                                   

More of the same

 Today I went to my grandchildren again with zucchini fritters, sweets and orange juice. On the way I stopped to buy them a "gahnoםn "which is a very popular Yemeni dish here and in fact it is a dough baked in a lot of fat throughout the night. There is a family that sells it in their yard in one of the small settlements on the way to the grandchildren.

Because I'm doing the calculation of the Hamas missiles I'm almost sure that the morning is the right time to go, so far I haven't been wrong but I got to them when everyone was still sleeping and I waited for them to open the door for me.

a month has passed already. The videos of the horror that was here are shown to foreign journalists and they leave in tears after a few minutes. There is a forty-five minute film most of which is from the terrorists' body cameras. They don't show it here because of the magnitude of the horror.

The aunt of a nine-month-old baby who was kidnapped to Gaza is now being interviewed on television, followed by the grandmother of a three-year-old girl who is there alone after her parents were shot, and so on all day.

.Public opinion in the world is against us now and I no longer have the strength to explain. I know that a sentence like that invites the trolls here, but I can deal with that.

In Germany they started marking Jewish homes and in France and England Jewish mothers are afraid to send their children to school. The world has learned nothing.