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Friday May 23, 2008

Down in the shelter, the beat goes on

by dan pine
staff writer

We could hear the sound of drums from 500 yards. HaMegenim Elementary School in Kiryat Shmona looks deceptively similar to the elementary school you and I went to. An asphalt playground. Stolid two-story buildings made a bit brighter by kid-painted murals. But this school in the far north of Israel has something else.

This school has a bomb shelter.

Make that two bomb shelters. One simply wouldn’t fit in all the kids next time the Katyusha rockets fall.

Earlier this month, members of the S.F.-based Jewish Community Federation’s Israel@60 mission toured the school to see federation funds in action. In the wake of the 2006 Lebanon War, the federation funded recovery programs, both to rebuild school facilities and help traumatized children feel safe and whole again.

The region’s problems persist. Social services in the Upper Galilee region remain weak, poorly serving a needy population. Many kids come from low-income single-parent homes; 80 percent are recent immigrants (most from the former Soviet Union).

But the federation’s efforts are making a difference. I saw it on the faces of the children, though we

didn’t meet them right away. We heard them before we saw them, when it was time for drumming class.

The kids were down in the bomb shelter. It’s a good place for a drumming class. Fifteen feet of concrete muffles the sound, but not entirely. To a furious beat, we descended down the dark and narrow passageway. The ceiling appeared to be of deteriorating plaster; wiring hung menacingly loose from the walls. And as we walked down the three flights of uneven stairs, the drums grew louder.

We came into a small room, harshly bright with fluorescent light. On the floor, in a circle, a dozen kids, about 9 or 10 years old, and their teacher sat on their doumbeks (a distinctive Arab drum), banging in unison.

These kids have been here before. During the war two years ago, they became acquainted with the dark passage. They knew the terror of bombs falling around them, of fearing for their lives, or worse: fearing for the lives of their parents, their brothers and sisters.

Oh, the school tries to make it tolerable. They have games, puzzles, snacks and even “devedim” (DVD’s) down there. But still, it’s a bomb shelter. A damn bomb shelter.

Several among the Bay Area visitors wanted to fix the place up, make it appear less dreary. God forbid the shelter is needed again, and should the kids find themselves stuck down there for hours or days, a bomb shelter facelift would help to make it more comfortable and comforting.

But there is no such thing as “home improvement” when it comes to a bomb shelter. The only way to improve them is not to need them.

These beautiful children — already disadvantaged by poverty and family problems (at least some of the kids) — have also to cope with the lingering anxiety of a surprise attack. It must lurk in the back of their minds every day, especially when down in the shelter.

And so they drum. They drum hard and loud. “Drum it out, kids,” I thought while watching them pound their doumbeks. But I know they could never fully drum it out.

We were all smiles when we said goodbye. But going up the stairs, I burst into tears. It just hit me: I am in a bomb shelter. A bomb shelter. These beautiful Israeli kids need a bomb shelter when they go to school? How impossibly cruel is that?

I thought about my visit to Yad Vashem, Israel’s Holocaust museum, a few days before. That was the only other time on this trip I cried. It’s easy to see why. You can draw a straight line directly from Yad Vashem to the bomb shelter at HaMegenim. A straight line from the crematoria at Auschwitz to the Hezbollah rocket nests just over the border.

I wept for these kids, but I was glad they didn’t see me. They do not need any more tears.

Dan Pine can be reached at dan@jweekly.com.

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