'At Least We're Not a Burden to Our Family'

August 10, 2006
KFAR CHABAD, Isrsael – Limor Ben Shmuel was one of the first northern evacuees to take up residence in the Kfar Chabad yeshiva dormitory that has become a refugee camp of sorts in the quiet, almost rural community near Ben-Gurion Airport.

Even now, more than two weeks since she and her family fled the outbreak of war along Israel's border with Lebanon, Ben Shmuel can hardly believe that she has shared a single room with her husband and six children, aged one to 10, for two weeks. With only six mattresses among them, a few kids sleep head-to-toe. They share a bathroom down the hall with five other families. Meals are served three times daily at the school's dining hall.

"It's still better than staying with a family," assured Ben Shmuel. "At least here the children can run around outside. Their friends are here."

Thousands of families, couples, and singles from Israel's north have left to stay with family or friends farther south. More than 400 residents of Safed, mostly Chabad-Lubavitch Chasidim, have found their way to Kfar Chabad. Some are staying in private homes.

But the logistical, economic and emotional dynamics of staying in someone else's house are understandably difficult to overcome, especially as large families, typically with five to eight children, are the rule in Kfar Chabad. The Colel Chabad relief organization has solved the problem by opening two dormitories – one in the central yeshiva, which is on summer vacation, and one in an abandoned vocational school, whose dormitory had to be cleared of rubble and fitted with mattresses before it could be opened.

Bare Essentials

Though adequate for teenage boys throughout the year, the rooms are clearly not designed to house established families in the summer. They're stiflingly hot, and afford little privacy. Only one small refrigerator serves each floor of rooms, and in the vocational school, rooms lack locks. In spite of the hardships, families interviewed said they would rather be crowded in a dormitory than burden private hosts. Most of all, they said, they feel safe.

Concerns about the war are put on hold for a game of basketball among some of the northern region’s boys, now living in Kfar Chabad. Photo: Rachel Sprintzer

"We spent two weeks in Netanya at my sister's," said Shlomo Benisti, a father of eight from Safed. "My sister would never say anything – she's my sister, after all – but she has her own five kids, and my wife and I have a three-month-old baby."

The Benistis found a one-bedroom rental cottage in Kfar Chabad, but soon were unable to pay the $50-per-night fee. They've since moved into the Colel Chabad dormitories, with half the space of the cottage.

Three weeks ago, when they left Safed, the Benistis thought they were leaving for just a weekend. Now short of supplies, they've availed themselves of clothing given by Colel Chabad.

"We left after a Katyusha hit just meters from where my six-year-old was playing," said Esther Chaya Benisti. "We'd thought Safed was so secure. Nothing ever happened there. Then they announced that everyone should stay near a bomb shelter, so I told Yisruli to stay in our house or inside his friend's house."

That day, she continued, the sound of three booms pierced the air. The third one took their breath away, it was so close.

"We ran into the safe room, but two of my kids were missing," she said. "I looked out the window, and there was smoke coming from the garden where Yisruli liked to play with his friends."

Yisruli had indeed been in the garden and saw the Katyusha fall. Wide-eyed, he enjoyed describing to visitors how close he was. The distance seemed to shrink with each telling, but relating the story was obviously a coping mechanism. He and several of his siblings trembled whenever a plane flew low overhead, the roar apparently reminding them of the screaming rockets they left behind.

Getting Comfortable

Newlyweds of just four months, Moshe and Malka – not their given names – spoke of their experience fleeing their rented apartment in Safed on condition of anonymity, so as not to embarrass the family that first put them up before their arrival in Kfar Chabad. When the war started, they received a call from a family they had only met in passing offering to put them up.

"Our hosts did everything they possibly could to make us feel at home," said Malka. "There was nothing they would not do for us. And I really do believe that they didn't mind that we were there. But we minded. It's uncomfortable for us to think we're imposing, no matter how sincerely they say we are not."

Malka said she felt privileged to have a comfortable bed when she moved to the dormitories: "A war makes you appreciate what you have."

Signs of Life

In a sign of the relocated families making the best of the situation, a makeshift community is emerging in the dormitory buildings. After two or three weeks, even the laundry rotations have taken on a familiarity of their own. And each morning, the children leave for one of three day camps for displaced kids.

The teenage boys play basketball. The mothers sit in the shade and talk or read Psalms.

Many residents attend daily Torah classes, and the three meals – 1,200 served daily – serve to break the monotony. On a recent day, a sign on the bulletin board read, "If anyone found a pink slipper with hearts on it, please return it to the Rutberg family."

Still, the mood around town was of people stoically making the best of what they have. The adults were harried and somewhat depressed. The children seemed happy enough playing with each other on the lawns, but their parents said over and over how traumatized the kids were. One mother said her eight-year-old son did not use the bathroom for two days after leaving Safed, fearing that a siren would go off while he was on the toilet.

All acknowledged things could have been much worse.

"I don't know where I would have gone," said Ben Shmuel. "We couldn't stay in the bomb shelter; we were sharing it with 16 families, and it was dank and musty. We had to go somewhere. My kids' lips were white, they were so scared."