Impressions from my first trip to Holot, May 2014
Elaine Matlow Tal-El
Had I not participated in the trip organized by Kol Haneshama to Holot two weeks prior, this article would have gotten lost among all of the other depressing and difficult pieces that describe the state of our world.
On that Friday morning, just before Holocaust Memorial day, in a convoy
of two cars, a multi generational group (including my daughter Noa) set out with
a picnic in our trunk and some cosmetics requested by those who we were going
to visit. We made our way down south to the Negev. I felt an obligation to see
with my own eyes the place that has been so often mentioned in the news, and to
meet (or re-meet) some of the people that I had met at events held at Kol
Haneshama on the issue of asylum seekers and to hear their stories. After a two
hour drive, we arrived in the desert- turning off the "main" road at
the Ketzyiot prison. We continued on this road, passing the Saharonim detention
camp and on our right, was the Holot Detainment Center- looking as close to a
prison as I have seen. Even the sign at the entrance refers to the Prison
Authority responsible for the construction of this installation. Let us not be
confused- it looks like a jail. If not for the freedom of movement allowed to
the detainees in and out of the center, it would be considered a jail. And even
though there is relative freedom of movement- how far can you go from there?
Especially if you have to sign in every few hours??
We were met by Jack, a friendly and bright young man from the Sudan.
Jack has been Kol Haneshama's contact person on the issue of the asylum
seekers. My daughter Noa knew him from her involvement with the Assaf
organization last year. Just a few weeks before our visit, Noa had re-met Jack
at Ben Gurion University as he had been brought in to tell his story to her
classmates in the School of Social Work. I felt that this showed a growing
trend among Israelis to understand the plight of these people- to hear them and
to "see" them. I know that me, having personalized this issue has
made its way into my consciousness by speaking to some of the asylum seekers
themselves.
After we managed to put up the covering that we brought to shield us
from the blistering sun, we sat down on the straw mats and put out our spread.
Jack led the discussion, and navigated
us through the stories of about 20 participants from Eritrea and from the Sudan.
They were eager to be heard. We were told that there are some 2300 inmates in
Holot- with no doctor, no airconditoning or fans, and, most difficult- nothing
to do. Our hosts spoke so clearly and with great calm about the difficulties
inside the installation- the boredom, the limited freedom of movement because
of the periodic need to sign attendance. We clearly were meeting with leaders
of the group inside. They described how they organized themselves into classes
to learn English, to relieve the boredom and to try to be productive. They
could not offer a very high level of English because there is no one inside who
really speaks English sufficiently well. Nevertheless, their commitment to
enriching themselves during the time spent in Holot in anticipation of
eventually going home, and even becoming leaders of the movement towards peace
and resolution in their home countries was not just admirable – it was
remarkable!
We asked them- what would you like from us, from our congregation? Can
we bring you something to improve your stay – clothing? Shoes? Books? Games?? At
first, almost to please us, they mentioned that books, paper and school
supplies would be appreciated. But they also made it very clear- they do not
want "things"- they do not want their lives inside Holot to be more
comfortable. Their message was clear- help us get out of this place. Help us
attain refugee status. Help us live like human beings.
They asked that we help them more efficiently by joining forces with
other groups that are working on their cause. They felt that their voices would
be heard louder if we worked together.
They also made it very clear that they are not interested in Israeli
citizenship- they want to go home. One member of the group caught on to our
non-Israeli accents and said-" I hear that you are from different countries
and yet you came to live in your Jewish homeland. There is nowhere like home.
We too want to be home. But until the danger passes, we must live outside of
our home."
We continued our discussion for another hour or so. We noticed that our
hosts were uncomfortable eating in our presence. The time for signing in was
approaching and they were preparing to go back inside. We organized ourselves-
each to his own place. We packed up what we had brought and gave it to them.
We said goodbye with smiles and hugs. Although they feel that Israeli
society in not interested in their plight, I felt otherwise- and I hope that
beyond Kol Haneshama there is growing interest and concern for them.
I was moved by the people we met- their inner quiet, the comraderie between them. The difficulties they face- far
from family, from their wives and children- living in uncertainty.
On our way back to Jerusalem, we raised many questions. Was this visit
only a bandaid to cosmetically cover up a sore? To make US feel better? Who
really benefits from these visits? Do these visits contribute something to the
people there? Shall we organize another group visit to Holot- and who should
come? People in professional positions who could tell the story to a larger and
new audience? Are we bleeding hearts who do not see the complexity of the
situation? Does Israel have no humane way to deal with this complicated
situation? For me, perhaps the hardest question was the moral one- how can we
as Jews close our eyes to this reality, to human suffering- all that more
painful at the time of the year when we a so focused on our own collective
experience during the Holocaust?
I do not have answers to all of these questions, but since our visit, I
struggle with them every day. I try to understand the official state policy and
behavior of our leaders in the country in which I chose to live and in which I
chose to raise my children. I ask myself- how can Israel be so blind to the
human imperative to treat these people humanely?
At the end of the day, I wonder if that same young man who was stuck in
the airport in Ethiopia could have perhaps been one of the young men I met that
hot Friday in Holot with my friends from Kol Haneshama??
