Living in Israel During Operation Protection Edge

I will start off by saying that I am not writing this piece as a journalist. I am writing this personal commentary to share what I have seen since I moved to Jerusalem last year to pursue a career in photojournalism. As you are all aware, there is a war occurring here in Israel, which the Israeli's call "Operation Protective Edge". It began on July 8, 2014, but for me it really started when three teens, Naftali Frenkel, Eyal Yifrah, and Gilad Sha'ar, were kidnapped on June 12, 2014.

When the three boys were first kidnapped, I, like many others, believed that they would come back alive. For 18 days people from all over the world were coming together and praying for the safe return of these three innocent teenagers. Jews from many backgrounds came together to pray that these boys would return home. The night we heard the news that the boys had been killed, I was celebrating my birthday with a group of friends. What started off as a joyous celebration with laughter, tons of food, and confetti --that I'm still finding around my house -- came to a sudden halt. The music and chatter stopped immediately. Everyone was silent and the environment became rather eerie. No one wanted to break the silence, as it seemed wrong. For 18 days these boys were on our minds and the hope that they would be reunited with their families kept us strong. But then we found out they were not only kidnapped, but also murdered. Although we didn't know it at the time, it was Hamas that was responsible for the killing of these three harmless teenage boys.

What happened next was tragic. An innocent Muslim boy, Mohammed Abu Khdeir, was murdered in retaliation. This is when the violence, by the Muslim population, started in the Jerusalem streets. It was dangerous to go downtown due to the rioting. Everyone became very cautious about where they walked and which buses they took. A short time later, the war officially began.

Living in Jerusalem, I have not heard the sirens that go off in the south. These alarms, or alerts that Hamas has fired a rocket at Israel, have gone off multiple times a day every single day for the past month south of here. I have been lucky that I've only heard it a few times. The first time I heard the siren I was terrified. I was sitting on the couch eating a bowl of cereal after a long day. I was enjoying the peace and quiet in my apartment when all of a sudden I heard a loud noise overhead. I froze as my only previous experience with the sirens took place last summer during a military drill. I could hear people outside running into their homes and closing their doors as they knew they had only 90 seconds to find cover after the siren goes off. I jumped off the couch and ran into my roommate's room, as her room is the "safe room" in the apartment, and quickly closed the door behind me. I started to shake as I attempted to close the window and shut the doors. I was alone, curled up on the floor shaking, and worrying that the rocket would hit somewhere close by. I prayed that everyone would be okay. 

The Iron Dome is Israel's defense system and has been preventing many of the rockets from hitting civilians. The first time I heard the Iron Dome, I was in a park with a friend where we took her cousins to play. We heard loud booms in the distance, and we knew that meant that a missile had been fired at us. We were far away from the attack, so the sirens did not go off. My friend and I gathered her cousins as we were scared that there would be more rockets and that the siren might go off. We wanted to make sure that we were back in the house and not in an open space if they hit. Now when I hear the Iron Dome I don't get nervous. I view it as a sign that a rocket has been intercepted and that no one is hurt.

All my conversations with American family and friends since the conflict began have been quite similar. Everyone asked me if I was okay and told me to come back to New York. Some even told me to call, email, or text them at the end of everyday to make sure I was still breathing. My mom called every few days to check in and offered advice on how to stay safe. She told me to avoid buses and take taxis instead. What she doesn't know is that the buses are much safer than the taxis, as many taxis have Muslim drivers, so there have been a few attempted kidnappings. Friends in Jerusalem and around Israel called each other frequently to check in. I spoke to some friends daily to make sure we had all made it home at night. Each night I felt a nervous tinge in the pit of my stomach until I knew that all was well.

For the past month, the war has constantly been on our minds. In the beginning, whenever I had a free moment, I would check my phone for updates. But now we are all accustomed to living through this sad time. What started out as a frightening experience has become a way of life.

Reading the papers here, it is difficult to identify what really happened and separate personal agendas from news reporting. But I do know that recently, both Hamas and Israel have been observing a ceasefire while negotiations are taking place in Egypt. The tension in the air has slightly eased. The situation for Israelis as well as for the people living in Gaza is terrible. Both sides have suffered tremendously and one cannot compare whose suffering is greater. I do hope that this will all be over soon and that those who have been directly affected by the fighting can start to piece their lives back together.

 Photos and text by Sarah Schuman. See more of Sarah's photos at www.sarahschuman.com and email her at: sarah.schuman@gmail.com.