ALIYAH ANECDOTES

By Lisa Antian

We made aliyah just over a year ago. I absolutely love living here. The milk cartons have Chag Sameach signs printed on them when there is an upcoming festival, my kids can walk down the road to the shops to buy an ice-cream without me, and I really like the fact that I can get an appointment at the paediatrician within an hour or so of calling the secretary if one of my children isn’t well. Recently I have been thinking about certain, often stereotyped, Israelis that I meet from time to time here. You know, the ones that shout a lot. The man who shouted at a driver who hadn’t seen me as I was about to cross the road...The one who told me off for driving too fast in the shopping centre car park...And the truck driver who was blocking our road despite there being several unoccupied parking spaces right next to his truck, who loudly reprimanded me for pointing this out to him. I am certain that these men have big hearts underneath these displays of outward aggression. I am also certain that they all have a story. Maybe they have been through war. Maybe they lost friends in terror attacks. Maybe they have been through the army here, which must change a person. I don’t see their past. My uncle fought in the Yom Kippur War in 1973. Even though many rabbis told the soldiers fighting in this war that they must break their fasts in order to be strong enough to fight, my uncle refused. He could not fathom the idea of not fasting on Yom Kippur, even though it was ‘pikuach nefesh’ (necessary to save lives). My uncle was also taken as a prisoner of war by the Egyptians. He is the soldier on the front left of this picture. He was one of the 293 Israeli soldiers swapped for over 8,372 Egyptian soldiers. The picture was taken by the Egyptians to show how they had captured the tall, strong, mighty Israeli soldiers. When my uncle was captured, the Egyptians would pour jerry cans of water into the sand in front of the parched Israeli soldiers as though to mock them. Whilst languishing in an Egyptian prison they hung him upside down and brutally whipped his feet and his back to ensure he wouldn’t escape. My grandparents only knew that their son was alive because this picture was printed on the front page of the daily newspaper in Iran, and our cousins who lived there saw it and called them immediately to tell them. Can you imagine their fear for their son, not knowing where he was, what his captors were doing to him, or whether he was still alive? Such an experience changes a person. Perhaps it makes them anxious or develop claustrophobia as a result of being ten soldiers in a cramped cell. Perhaps they become aware of how fragile life is as a result of comrades dying in battle. Perhaps they become obsessively hygienic as a result of having to use the toilet in front of the other captives in their cell and being denied basic products such as soap. Perhaps they develop PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) and it never gets properly treated. I must remember this the next time I encounter an aggressive Israeli. I don’t see their past.

Lisa Antian studied Politics and Modern History at The University of Manchester. Lisa is a qualified teacher who has previously taught at JFS, Hasmonean and Menorah High. Lisa and her family made aliyah in 2021 and she is a consultant educational scriptwriter and content writer.