August 15, 2005 /10 Meanachem-Av, 5765

Israel begins dismantling of Jewish Gaza communities

By Joel Greenberg

On the eve of destruction of their communities, the settlers observed a fast day Sunday marking the traditional anniversary of the destruction of the two ancient Jewish temples in Jerusalem, many with a keen sense that they were reliving history

EVE DEKALIM —Israel closed the main crossing point leading to its settlements in the Gaza Strip at midnight Sunday to all but military vehicles, signaling the start of the evacuation of the 21 settlements and the troops protecting them.

Israeli army officers were expected to fan out across the settlements early Monday, serving residents with eviction notices.

In a first sign of active resistance to the evacuation, the tires on three army jeeps that pulled into the main settlement of Neve Dekalim late Sunday were flattened by protesters, and a truck carrying soldiers was vandalized and spattered with paint.

The nearly 9,000 Gaza settlers and an estimated 5,000 supporters who have infiltrated the settlements will have 48 hours to leave on their own before forcible eviction begins Wednesday. Some residents have begun moving out, while others, including many of the newcomers, have vowed to resist.

On the eve of destruction of their communities, the settlers observed a fast day Sunday marking the traditional anniversary of the destruction of the two ancient Jewish temples in Jerusalem, many with a keen sense that they were reliving history.

The day of mourning, known as Tisha B'Av, the ninth day of the Hebrew calendar month of Av, carried an added layer of meaning for people at Neve Dekalim, a community of religious Jews that is the largest Israeli settlement in the Gaza Strip.

Worshipers sat on the floor and listened to readings of the ancient Book of Lamentations, whose verses mourn the destruction of the first Jewish temple and Jerusalem by the Babylonians in the 6th Century B.C. E. The second temple was sacked and burned by the Romans in the year 70.

"This is the same fire," said Yosef Elnekaveh, a prominent local rabbi, as he watched a man burn debris from his house after movers had emptied it. "This is the fire of the destruction of the temple."

On the streets of Neve Dekalim and the neighboring settlement of Gadid, there were signs of the approaching end. Discarded household goods littered some sidewalks and yards, moving trucks stood near some houses and abandoned equipment was scattered among the remains of greenhouses whose plants had withered. Garbage bins overflowed, and bus service had stopped.

Efrat Weiss, 22, who came to synagogue services with her baby at the start of the fast on Saturday night, said that one passage in Lamentations spoke most powerfully to her.

"Remember, L-rd, what happened to us, consider and see our misery," the passage says. "Our property has gone to strangers, our houses to foreigners."

Some people cried out when the verse was chanted, and a rabbi who addressed the worshipers lamented that the deed was being done this time by a Jewish government.

Weiss, who was raised in Neve Dekalim, said she felt she was going through a "personal destruction," and that the settlers still were "hoping for a miracle."

Desperate prayers went up at an emotional gathering at the cemetery of Gush Katif, the main bloc of Gaza settlements, where residents gathered under a baking sun to bid farewell to loved ones whose remains are to be dug up and moved to Israel.

As relatives of the dead knelt beside graves, men and women sang and cried for more than two hours, forming circles around tombstones, some marked with Israeli flags and the orange ribbons worn by opponents of the Gaza pullout.

The 48 buried settlers include civilians and soldiers killed in nearly five years of violent conflict with the Palestinians.

Dan Davidovich sat next to the flag-draped grave of his daughter, Ahuva Emergi, who was 30 when she was killed more than three years ago in an attack by Palestinian gunmen on the road to Gush Katif.

"We have not come to say goodbye," Davidovich said. "I still believe that it won't happen."

Practical plans to thwart the withdrawal were laid out at a general meeting Saturday night in Neve Dekalim at which hundreds of settlers were briefed by their leadership on what to expect this week and how to react.

Wall posters near the main synagogue advocated resistance actions, among them flattening the tires of military and police vehicles, breaking out of surrounded settlements by cutting their fences, tipping over buses brought to transport evacuees and undermining the resolve of evacuating soldiers by huddling together, parents and children, in back rooms.

Some notices called on residents to stock up on essentials in preparation for a prolonged siege by the army.

At the meeting, Rafi Seri, the head of the settlers' resistance campaign, told the crowd that according to assurances received from the military, electricity and water supplies would not be cut during the evacuation, supermarkets would remain stocked and even a mobile dental clinic would move among the settlements.

Seri announced plans to mass at the gates of the settlements Monday morning to block soldiers from entering and distributing eviction orders. He warned the crowd not to lift a hand against the evacuating soldiers and police. "No violence, neither physical nor verbal," Seri said to applause. "Our strongest weapon is a stronger moral stand."

Seri said every household should decide how it wants to meet the evacuating troops, but soldiers and police officers should be greeted as brothers, not adversaries, in an effort to render them incapable of carrying out their orders, Seri said.

Beyond the public mobilization to face the evacuation, there also have been moments of private pain, as many settlers prepare to leave homes where they have raised families and built thriving farming businesses.

At his house in Gadid, Yehiam Sharabi and his sons raced against the clock, scrambling to ship out belongings before the army's deadline for voluntary evacuation. Preoccupied by the logistics of moving, Sharabi had little time for reflection or emotion.

But the moment came on Friday, Sharabi said, when he uprooted palm trees he had been cultivating outside his house for 17 years.

"That was the last straw," he said. "I broke. I cried."