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by Rachel Saperstein



November 8, 2006

A year and three months have passed since our expulsion from Gush Katif.* We live in the refugee camp of Nitzan between Ashdod and Ashkelon. This plywood "caravilla" is not our home. In two or more years Moshe and I will once again receive our notice of eviction. As of today not one person has received permission to build permanent housing. Work is in progress on infrastructure GKV107.emlin the upper heights of Nitzan but lots have yet to be allocated. Settlement in the Lachish area has been stalled. The hill called "Egoz" has been declared a 'green' area, a 'military' area, an 'electrical pylon' area. We must look for another hill. When we visit the Lachish area we see in the distance hundreds of Arab homes that have been built willy-nilly on every hill and dale. There is barely a Jewish presence in the area. Meanwhile we continue to live in the refugee camp.

Today I have many meetings. Aliza, Director of Cultural Activities of Neve Dekalim, arrives with a shopping list.

"We need a Torah Corner for a kindergarten class. Story books and games for others. And a crafts program for senior citizens." And her list continues.

"Isn't the Hof Ashkelon Council supposed to give you money for these activities?" I ask.

"Yes, but I never receive it. Can Operation Dignity help us?"

I give a discreet envelope.

"Buy and enjoy!"

Anat, a gem of a woman, who ran the dozens of cultural programs at the "Matnas" Community Center, has just quit. She came over to tell me why. "Rachel, I couldn't pay the people who came to run activities. Money was held up. The workers had to beg for their payments." Anat herself had received a paycheck of less than 150 dollars per month.

I dropped off an "envelope" at the home of one family. The mom is seriously ill. "Buy something pretty," I implored. I left a few of my House and Garden magazines. Like me, she loves beautiful things. Tomorrow I'll bring my thick vegetable soup. Others will bring chicken, brown rice and vegetables. May Hashem grant her strength to withstand her ordeal.

I practice my flute. My afternoon lesson at the Matnas with Alex is interrupted by little girls who keep running into the room to change exercise mattresses. We desperately need a separate pre-fab for our music program. The music books are gone. The instruments are in disrepair. Our music teachers receive 10 dollars and many travel an hour each way from Beersheva. They refuse to give up on us. My admiration for them is endless.

Moshe and I travel to Ashkelon to buy a small wooden table for our garden. I invite Esther for a late afternoon cup of tea to celebrate the purchase of the new table.

I am off to Sara, the hairdresser. With the help of Job Katif and Operation Dignity she has opened her new hair salon. It's a mighty change from the tiny cubicle that she had been using.

I've let my hair grow into its natural color -- gray!

"Make me gorgeous!"

Sara blow dries my hair into a mod, cap-like, ten years younger look.

I look gorgeous.

We head off for the wedding of the Goldsreins and the Safras. Two Neve Dekalim families now joined in matrimony. We meet our friends living in other refugee camps. We hug, we kiss, we exchange excited greetings. The women are elegant.

"You look gorgeous, Rachel."

"Thanks to Sara," I reply.

I look at the camp from the road as we return. Row after row of tan houses with a red roof. There are no trees, no bushes, no greenery.

New homes for Gaza Jewish refugees are 'trailer villas' in the desert

We remake our lives as best as we can. The kindness of our people remains. But we are in mourning. A year later, we hear the explosions in the Gaza Strip as the IDF pounds away at Arab rocket launch sites. We were expelled. But the war, the attacks into Israel continue. Had our expulsion brought peace perhaps we would accept our fate. Instead it brought the rocket launchers closer to the borders of Ashkelon and Sderot.

We move on and move forward, and then we move backward. I hear the whistle of the train. I hear children playing. I hear men speaking on the walk to synagogue. I hear the thump of tank fire.

This is a day in a refugee camp.


November 29, 2006

I have a toothache. Long overdue dental work begins tomorrow. The dull ache wears me down. My right eye is throbbing. My ears ache. I take another painkiller. The dentists are a young couple who had run a clinic in Neve Dekalim. They braved rocket fire to give us first class dental care. Their regular clinic is in Ashkelon. I stick with them.

Moshe's mother, a young ninety, comes for Shabbat with his brother and wife. We went to the beach Friday afternoon, watched the waves pound the shore, and spotted pizza-sized jellyfish. The weather has been warm by day, chilly at night.

Sunday morning the Orange Gallery directors and I meet with Ministry of Labor reps, at their request. We need help to buy a pre-fab to house the Gallery, and workshops for the artists who now work out of their tiny, crowded homes.

"Can you help us?" we ask.

"We've come to help you" the reps reply. "But we can't help you with money. And you can't put down a pre-fab without licenses. Lots of licenses. And we're not allowed to help you with that."

"So why are you here?" I ask in bewilderment.

"To help you" their leader says, his voice filled with exasperation at our lack of comprehension.

"Help us with what?" asks our business manager Einat. She is very, very pregnant. And will have a baby girl later in the day.

"We'll provide you a list of people who can advise you on how to plan a business agenda and you can choose."

"Whom do you recommend?"

"We're not allowed to recommend anyone. You choose."

"Can you give us names of people they have advised?"

"We're not allowed to give you that information."

My colleagues and I look at each other, and suppress the desire to laugh.

"Thank you for your help" I say as we leave. They smile in satisfaction at a job well done.

Rabbi Yosef Tzvi Rimon and his JobKatif volunteers arrive with visitors, wonderful Jews from New York. Our artists' paintings, woodcuts, photographs, jewelry and glass are on display. The visitors browse and buy. I introduce them to Ruby and Chagit, directors of the "Bnai Menashe Motif" division of the Gallery. Ten Bnai Menashe women are embroidering the ethnic designs of what will become challa covers. They now work in a clubhouse for young people not in use in the morning.

Ruby and Chagit tell of their wanderings from India to Gush Katif to the Nitzan refugee camp. Both women, university graduates, run the new enterprise. OPERATION DIGNITY will cover their expenses until the project stands on its feet.

Friends from Baltimore, Mike and Layne, come to visit and work. Having been with us in Gush Katif, the two feel a strong bond with our people. After several hours cleaning a clubhouse they leave money with me. They have seen that the kids need a net, paddles and balls for the ping-pong table, plastic containers for their arts and crafts supplies, soap and towel dispensers. "The one ping-pong ball is taped up!" Layne cries. "Rachel, take this money and get them what they need."

At night I meet with Ariel Gross, a young man with website savvy. We're putting together a website for the Orange Gallery. Debbie has taken many pictures. Einat wrote the Hebrew text. Our neighbor Esther wrote the English text. As soon as our site is up you'll know about it.

Another day ends in the refugee camp -- a day of frustration, expectation, and hope.

Thank you for being with us. Your kindness helps us to move forward.


December 12, 2006

I found a printout of Anita Tucker's Channuka letter on our kitchen table. Anita and I are friends. Her sister Esther is my next door neighbor, a member of the OPERATION DIGNITY Board of Directors, and my confidante.

This is her letter.


I share with you, dear friends, my heartfelt emotions as I approach Chanukah longing for my lifetime hometown and longing no less for the hometown that will be. I hope you have patience for me, as my need to share this with you is sincere. Your e-mails, visits, calls and caring for my community and those of my Gush Katif friends fuel the energy to continue I pray with you that our mutual yearning for that bigger special promised home and times will soon be.

Plastic Swords and Foil Helmets
Chanukah 67/06

Commentaries and articles on the subject of Chanukah over the years have emphasized the debate about what is the most important element of the holiday. Was it the miracles, the heroism, the leadership, the holiday of victory (Chag Hanitzachon), the Jews against the Greeks, the secular Hellenists against the traditional, the few against the many, or was it the devotion to the essence of so many as exemplified by Chana and her seven sons that is most significant about Chanukah that is most significant?.

Chanukah was the holiday which we best connected with while living in Gush Katif. God's miracles that we witnessed, the heroism (that too was obviously a God-given fortitude that caused us to somehow stay on despite the sand in our beds, despite the rockets and terrorism, our ability hold up in the struggle against destruction and against the capitulation to terror, our standing up to protest what we believed was immoral and unethical.), the devotion to the Land of Israel that we love so much, as it returned our love flourishing the bald sand dunes, all these connected us to Chanukah.*

A typical street in Gush Katif prior to Gaza withdrawal (photo:WND)

I recall, in our town, Netzer Hazani, the pre-kindergarten Chanukah play, one post Oslo year was all about the Macabbees fighting the enemy.

As the play began, the thin sweet voices shouted above shattering explosions of terrorist rockets nearby and the noise of shooting in the background. The tots were playing the role with such conviction as if they were certain that they really were the Macabees and were certain all that they had learned for this holiday was really about them.

As I sat at the pre-kindergarten play, watching my grandchildren and their friends perform, I recall feeling certain that if our IDF would only allow it, our little Maccabees could easily overcome the enemy attacking us that moment like young Judah and brothers against the many in those days gone by, if only they had been permitted to do so.

Our tots' plastic swords, their aluminum foil helmets were worn with such pride. Our tots' were proud of their tradition. They had innocent faith, heroism and devotion with their so pure and sincere conviction to the truth that is often more clear to 4 and 5 year olds than adults, politicians and heads of state.

Today, the only fighting spirit I see here in the temporary living site of Ein Tzurim is survival, the only ones standing straight here are the little red capped, beige, caravillas standing like robot soldiers in lined rows equally distanced one from another. For many here, holding on, just surviving is the major struggle.

This Chanukah, for me, Anita Tucker, far away from my natural scenery and dear piece of Eretz Yisrael of my destroyed lifetime -- the holiday value this year is VICTORY.

Victory is my motto, not only in the daily battles of survival, but a determination for victory in our war. No, we are not busy as journalists, politicians so many on forwards on e-mails, dealing with war from Iran and Iraq. We are fighting a war for rehabilitation, for building anew, for being permitted to again be constructive creative people who build, contribute and make a difference in the Land of Israel, among the people of Israel.

We understand now that to realize this hoped for miracle we are not only dependent on our will, our devotion, our faith, our fortitude as we were while building Gush Katif.

This time we are mostly dependent on others. Will the government come through in all its ineptitude and bureaucracy to enable us to build anew? Some say to win the war we must win the battle. The battle is that we insist that the government of Israel provide us with buildings roads and land equivalent to what we had previously and we must rely solely on this. This battle when and if finally won may leave us without any soldiers left, with too many injured and dead. I don't want to put all my energies in the battle.

I want to win the war.

Winning the war means that we are again constructive contributing citizens. This can't happen via the endless exhausting frustrating battle with our total dependency on the Sela commission, with the Prime Ministers office's bureaucrats.

Winning can only happen when we together with our caring wonderful friends who are behind us in this war of survival and building anew take things into our own hands.

So the first major step I took with my caring new friends was buying caravans for those whom the Sela commission claimed has no technically legal rights to continue with the community. These young families, who were born in Gush Katif grew up there, married there, had their own kids, continued living there until they were expelled. Their crime was that per chance they rented from private rental housing and not from public rental housing so it was decided they have no rights.

So I took the first major strategic step.

The battle fighters said we will keep on knocking on their doors until the bureaucrats agree to help -- have patience. Those of us who want to win the war said forget the bureaucrats and their devotion to inflexibility, our young families will not be thrown aside, let's just buy caravans! These young families are now living with us as an integral part of the community.

Amazing caring people wrote checks directly to buy these homes and the families are in them. Simple, no bureaucracy, no fees, nothing but pure direct chesed with a big personal direct hug that gives tremendous strength to the givers and receivers and no doubt makes some dramatic vibrations upwards in the heavens, klapei shmaya, as well.

Everyone who came to visit this year asked me when we will again eat your celery, peppers etc. We still have not received land for growing, nor full compensation for our agro-businesses. So how can growing vegetables again be possible, we must wait patiently. Those who wait and whine may well win the battle but I just won another stage in my war.

My two sons, who were second generation organic farmers in Gush Katif and three other friends from Netzer Hazani took their down payment on home compensation (who needs a home when you are fighting a war anyway) together with my own silent partnership in it as well, invested in partnered land in the Jordan Valley, put up greenhouses, planted organic peppers and plum cherry tomatoes and have begun picking delicious vegetables. Yes it is not our land, it is an hour and quarter drive, it is not where our permanent home will be but is a reason to get up in the morning, it is productive and constructive!

As I walk between the tall tomato plants and inhale their intoxicating odor, I know that we have accomplished a small victory over the destruction. The problems aren't simple, we planted a bit late in the season, the land is a bit different than we are used to, etc. -- small stuff for people with the challenges we've seen these last years. I left the greenhouses sure, more than ever, that this is the right approach to victory in this war.

The only healing treatment for destruction is construction.

I can fight the battle of bureaucracy and lack of caring forever and perhaps I will succeed to get a compromise with a promise. I will feel victory in the battle but this is still not building anew.

Yes, no doubt, the government must be made to fulfill their responsibility for the building anew -- making them do it is a battle but getting the building to really happen and new towns built as they were is the war. I know that everyone of you who are reading this stand with us in this war and your caring will give us the strength to win the war.

Friends write me and ask 'Anita what do you say about all the terrible news -- Iran Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Hamas, El Kaida, our own Israel heads of state Olmert, Livni, Livnat etc.?' I say forget it -- Hakadosh Baruch must have some plans that are beyond our control. What you and I have control of is Chesed. We can do chesed to each other, to Gush Katif communities, to those in the North, to Sderot, each of us to their neighbor in his own community. We can do chesed to the people of Netzer Hazani, you to us, we to our families, the families to their kids, the kids to each other. Each in these chains of chesed will feel the hug and caring of the other and if we love and care about each other than certainly Hashem, God, will help us feel his ever present love and care.

Now there are people in the community who are still not working, they are eating away at their house compensation money for daily survival. We still have to help them hold out with their head up high so that when we win "the war" they will have the emotional strength to continue to enjoy the victory and challenges of construction.

Our toddler Maccabees are in kindergartens that are barely equipped with toys and learning materials. We have given lists of materials needed to the regional council and to all the bureaucrats responsible who have promised that they will be approved and ordered any day now. One month, another month, another month and nothing happens. Now our children are preparing their Chanukah play in a bare stoic kindergarten. That is it -- I had enough of this battle I shall win the war.

Our caring friends from the US called to come and visit -- they came, they cared and they gave us the ability to equip the kindergarten with part of what the kids need.

These Maccabees in our Ein Tzurim community will be strong and proud and ready for the building anew -- for winning the war -- because the battles have left them weak of soul and with wounded hearts.

So I share with you more of my war strategy.

Hope I'm not boring you terribly but I am so grateful for your ear and heart to share with you. It would be so difficult were you not out there People have told me a fundraisers and PR experts writes short concise proposals. Donators have no patience for long emails. Sorry, my emails are not for those, I am still a farmer, my goal is to hope you will feel in your heart what I feel in mine. My need is to share with you as a fellow caring person.

My community of Netzer Hazani in Ein Tzurim has not had a rabbi since our Rabbi Yitzchak Arama was murdered 4 yrs ago. We need one now desperately to help the soldiers get strong to be ready for the construction. But there is no caravan to have candidates stay with their big families for Shabbat -- nor do we have a place to put them if they are ready to move in. Months of efforts to convince the bureaucrats that this is essential have led to promises and no action. We will each donate (from our house down payment) some amount and hopefully one of our caring capable friends will partner with to us make it happen. Meanwhile we will just do it! We will somehow order a caravan furnish it and start inviting candidates for Shabbat.

Next -- youth building -- yes the Sela commission, the prime ministers office, and who not, have promised Sammy and Bryna Hilburg, our friends and neighbors, who's Moadon Yochanan in Netzer Hazani in Gush Katif was built in memory of their son killed in the Shayetet-marine seal unit, 9ys ago in Lebanon fighting the Hizballah(sound familiar) that they will build a new Moadon Yochanan, youth caravan. Months have past, where is it?

Now the Hilbergs are working with our youth director, fighting too, to keep our youth healthy and sane without a proper facility. I have given up on this bureaucratic battle -- with God's help I will somehow figure out how to buy a caravan for a youth building on our own!

We need our youth when we win this war, not bleeding and injured in the field of battle from frustration, with lack of faith in leadership and their State of Israel. I need our youth strong and healthy, with faith in Am Yisrael and still flowing with Hashem, with God. Winning a stage in the war is when the youth have their own meeting place that is theirs and they know that there are people out there who love them. that they know that we, the adults, were self relying and figured out how to get them what they needed for the togetherness that all the experts say heals our youth's souls. When we have healthy smiling brave youth, who again are willing to stand up tall feeling that going with God's ways is a victory -- it will be a victory!

Yes, definitely, we will fight the government battle to get anew what we had, but we won't wait for ever. Now we will start a fund that will subsidize whatever it takes to compete the land deal, to build again our synagogue our simcha hall etc, to prepare the infrastructure for the greenhouses and other initiatives and infrastructure for homes beyond what the government agrees to give that so far that can't make it happen. Bli neder, -- we will work hard, convince, demand but not wait forever. Exhausted we will still gather our fortitude and search for the the caring people capable to help us reach victory and reconstruction.


Whoever adopts a strategy of destruction will find that, God willing, there will be construction twice as big and twice as successful as what existed before!!!!

Come and visit and smell the intoxicating smell of fresh flowering plants in our new greenhouses and you too will inhale a breath of the Chanukah message of victory -- Chag Hanitzachon.

Come see our tots in the kindergartens still lifting their plastic swords and aluminum helmets, weakened, yet still declaring proudly as did the Maccabees -- "who is with God, follow me" -- Mi LaHashem Aelai."

Sincerely looking forward to hearing from you,
Thanks for caring; your caring as always gives strength,

Best Chanukah wishes,

054-777-5268 (972-54-7775268)

But there is more to this. Our ways of tackling the tremendous heartache of our Gush Katif people is so similar that I sit in wonder. We had, independently, come to the same conclusion: don't wait for the government authorities to come to our rescue; go out and do it yourself. As she works non-stop to pull her Netzer Hazani -- Ein Tzurim people together, I do the same here in Neve Dekalim -- Nitzan.

Actually, you, my friends and readers are doing it with me and this blog is dedicated to you.

This Channuka You and I, We, are bringing in the pre-fab building for the Orange Gallery. At the same time that I was negotiating with the authorities, You and I, We, went out and bought a pre-fab, had it renovated, laid the groundwork in the area near the Central Sephardic Synagogue, and will shortly be receiving the building with joy. You, and the Jewish Community of the Boston Area, made it happen. We will now have an actual gallery to showcase our Gush Katif artists and artisans. We had been selling their works at art fairs, community centers and at private homes. Now we will have our own building! Your contribution to Operation Dignity made it happen. Not only will we use the pre-fab as an art gallery but the evenings will find the gallery a place of culture for the other arts: music, literature, film and lectures. Our Gush Katif people will not only bring their wisdom but a thirsty audience will imbibe the cultural activities with pleasure. And we are planning an outdoor coffee shop with homemade Gush Katif whole grain cakes and muffins.

You and I, We, also bought a smaller renovated container for the 'Bnei Menashe Motif' project. Ten of our Bnei Menashe women are embroidering the cloth that will eventually become Challah Covers. Ruby and Chagit, both Bnei Menashe women, are the directors of this enterprise. This means employment! And you did it!

Now You and I, We, are laying the groundwork and providing the seed money for the 'Gush Katif Repairs' program. Getting the over-50's men out to work has been a top priority. Having lost their farms and businesses, our men are now unemployable. With this unemployment has come depression, heart attacks, and driving wives crazy. Our men are all capable repairmen and in the nearby cities of Ashkelon and Ashdod are thousands of people, alone, elderly or simply not handy who would welcome and appreciate low cost, honest, on time, friendly repair work. We can't wait for the nebulous promises of financial aid from the authorities. You sent the money to Operation Dignity and Natan, a former farmer, is running with the project. I'll keep you up to date.

This Channuka You and I, We, are going to see miracles. Anita's letter calling for "self help" is the right approach and I am in total agreement. The miracle of Channuka is the story of Jews -- a small band of Jews -- standing bravely in the face of terror or now in the face of government neglect and disinterest.

You and I, We, through Operation Dignity are going to make miracles happen.

This Channuka take an extra glass of wine, eat another potato latke. You, my friends and readers, deserve a treat. Your kindness has made the miracle of Channuka a reality. Kol HaKavod! Good for you!

Our website -- -- will be ready soon.

Chag Sameach!


December 21, 2006

How appropriate that our hoped-for miracle occurred on Channuka.

We stood at the site waiting for the Orange Gallery structures to arrive. The previous night I had received the renovator's call. I immediately phoned 'the girls'. "It's coming tomorrow morning!" I cried. "10:30! Bring cameras!"

And we assembled.

Einat arrived first, four daughters in tow, the infant in her carriage.

Miriam arrived with a smile of disbelief. Our pipe-dream, shared during the bleak days in a Jerusalem hotel, was actually coming to fruition: a real honest-to-goodness art gallery.

Becky, formerly a Gush Katif town planner, pulled into the adjacent parking lot and went off to give final instructions to the Gush Katif workmen who had readied the area.

Laurence, of Friends of Gush Katif, came to take pictures for her internet site. No more rummaging around for a meeting place. Now her tour groups will have a place to visit, sit, buy and listen.

Ruby and Chagit, our Bnei Menashe Motif directors, arrived to see the arrival of their very own workshop.

The flatbed truck with the Gallery perched precariously on its back arrived first and with our hand signals beckoned the driver to the site. "Wow, it's much nicer than I thought it would be." "Unbelievable! It's here!" The wood frame structures to house the Orange Gallery and its sister workshop had arrived!

Amidst cheers the forklift truck arrived. Chains were secured and the structures hoisted into the air and deposited on to the concrete slabs.

The doors were opened and we scrambled in. The office is small, the storage area even smaller, but there is lots of space for exhibits. The Gallery was planned both as a showcase for our artists and artisans and to present our wonderful performing artists in cultural activities.

News of the Gallery spread through the refugee camp. Eyes brightened. Spirits raised. People smiled at me. Imagine an art gallery here in our refugee camp!

We are especially grateful to Rav Yosef Tzvi Rimon and the Boston Jewish Community who have adopted this project. We are waiting for our friends to arrive to welcome them to the structures they lovingly gave us.


Our website is up and running. We are going to introduce you to our artists and their work. You'll see the pictures of our exhibitions and sales evenings. Enjoy the pictures at the Gallery site including the structures being hoisted into place. And smile when you see our Chabad neighbor bringing traditional jelly doughnuts to the truck drivers. Keep up with our exciting beginning and all of our future plans.

To you, my friends, you are making dreams come true. Now we are planning the sites for future workshops for our artists. With your help and G-d willing we see the glimmer of hope.

Truly a Channuka story.


Send your checks earmarked for OPERATION DIGNITY to:

Central Fund for Israel
Rehov Hagoel 13
Efrat 90435


Central Fund for Israel
980 Sixth Avenue, Third Floor
New York, NY 10018

Some of the hundreds of hikers heading north - the woman in the rear is holding sufganiyot, donuts for Chanukah

* Residents from Northern Sameria were also chased from their homes. This Chanukah, despite police harassment, they made a pilgrimage back. As Ezra HaLevi wrote in Arutz-Sheva, "Close to a thousand former residents and Land of Israel activists succeeded in reaching the destroyed community of Homesh Monday, where they lit Chanukah menorahs and vowed to rebuild their homes."

Ruth Matar wrote: "I do not have enough words to pass on to you the feelings of excitement and emotion to be part of the hundreds and hundreds, men, women, youth and children, who, by foot and by car, were going up the mountains of the Shomron, through dirt roads, fields and vineyards, bypassing the enormous amount of security forces who were trying to block us from returning to Chomesh. People who had never been in Chomesh before were bewildered at the view from the mountains. 'One can see the entire country from here', they said. 'This is a most strategic place, how can anyone think of abandoning this area?' they asked.

"Feelings of exaltation when we finally got to Chomesh, lighting Hanukka candles and dancing - mixed with feelings of grief, sadness and anger, looking at the ruins of what once was a flourishing Jewish community and asking ourselves: 'Why?', 'Why was this community, together with 24 other communities in Israel, destroyed? For what?'

"But the overwhelming feeling was that of success. We made it, we came back to Chomesh, and this is only the beginning. Seeing the original residents of Chomesh crying on top of the ruins of their homes and thanking the masses for making it possible to come back, made it clear to all of us that this will not be a one-time activity but rather an activity that will be continued till we will once again see Jewish families living in Chomesh as a first step to what will, please G-d, be a mass return to all places abandoned by the Sharon government, in Northern Shomron and in Gush Katif.

"To see a short video of the return to Chomesh please click on:"


Rachel Saperstein and her husband Moshe now live in a temporary trailer. They lived in Neve Dekalim, Gush Katif, Gaza, Israel. Rachel Saperstein was a teacher at the Neve Dekalim ulpana and a spokeswoman for the Katif Regional Council. Her book, "Eviction: A Gush Katif Viewpoint", with photos by Moti Sender can be ordered from

Moshe Saperstein is a Jerusalem Diarist, one of the group of Israelis who are recording their experiences living in Israel. He lost an arm while fighting in the 1973 Yom Kippur War. He was again wounded in a February 2002 incident when he drove his car into a terrorist who had just shot and killed a young mother traveling in the car in front of him. He writes frequently of his physical and emotional struggles.


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