On that horrific night, with absolutely no forewarning, riot troops, dressed in black, leapt behind the boulders serving as a back fence for these three families’ homes and delivered the news that they were there to destroy. They came with neither documentation nor court orders and weren’t interested in seeing the deeds to the land on which the houses were situated. On that night, eleven children were torn out of their beds in their pajamas and taken out into the cold night, never to see their bedrooms, or many of their precious belongings, ever again. Within hours, in front of both the adults and children that spent a significant portion of their lives building up this fine community, the Teitelbaum, Gutman, and Gefen homes were destroyed.
Two of these three homes were built in a fashion that they could actually have been picked up and moved to different plots of land if necessary. It wasn’t necessary, because nobody was willing to hear of it, and now there’s nothing left.
As much as the rest of us managed to pack and haul away is just about all that remained intact. Massive crews of Arabs were brought in by the forces, apparently to help pack. What they did in reality was to throw personal belongings, children’s toys, clothing, religious items, furniture and appliances out of the homes with force. Not much remained in its original state.
After about an hour and a half of sleep, the community, emotionally bleeding and battered, arose to a new day. Nobody made it to work. The kindergartens operated fully, and a psychological staff remained active sporadically for the next couple of weeks, but the older children stayed home. And we all worked together. By late afternoon, three older caravans (mobile homes) had been fixed up, all belongings were packed, moved and unpacked in the new “homes”. From surrounding communities, professionals arrived. A carpenter voluntarily put all the furniture back together, carefully crafting custom-made matching pieces where the originals had been destroyed. A gardener showed up and quietly planted flowers in the new plots to make the residents feel more at home. After hours of hard work, the day was capped off by a meeting of all residents in the synagogue, where we were treated to encouraging words by rabbis, activists, and others. Our children were given geraniums to plant, to sow new hope, from other children in Amona, a nearby community that lost eight houses a few years ago. One speaker capped off the evening poignantly by saying that were he to be writing a motto for Migron, it would be “Migron – the community where nobody says ‘Ba Li’ (I feel like it.). They say only ‘Ani Ba’ (I’m coming.).`
And so the saga continues. We’ve been joined by nearby Givat Asaf, Givat HaUlpanah, and again, Amonah — dozens of Jewish families on land that can be proven to be legally owned if anyone were to take the time to look. The Arabs dropped their case against Migron in the Supreme Court in early November 2011, as they simply could not come up with the proofs necessary to show that this land is theirs. It is once again ownerless. Apparently, this made no difference in the previous ruling, and because Migron is built on so-called “private land” it was to be destroyed by March, 2012. March… Purim… we should only see the tables turn as they did so many years ago. Now, D-day (destruction of the community) is slated for August 1.
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About the Author: Aviela Deitch resides in Migron. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. To learn more, join the “Migron (English)” Facebook group, or visit the site at www.migron.net.
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