Yom HaZikaron and Yom HaAtzmaut (Memorial Day and Independence Day)

I was supposed to be headed to Amman, Jordan the weekend following Yom HaShoa (see the previous blog entry) for the spring Fulbright conference. I had really been looking forward to this, because Fulbright students from all over the middle east and north Africa would be gathering there to share about our projects, and our time in our respective countries, and whatnot. However, I was very disappointed that they had planned it on the same week as Israel’s Independence Day. I had asked about joining the later gathering (they had split us into two groups to make the numbers more manageable, but was told that switching dates would not be possible.) However, on Yom HaShoa, President Obama announced that Osama Bin Laden had been killed, and there was a worldwide travel warning for Americans abroad. While we all agreed that it would probably be safe, the Fulbright higher-ups decided not to chance having a large gathering of American students all gather conveniently together in a hotel in Amman, and canceled the conference. While I was quite disappointed not to get the opportunity to meet up with the other students, I was thrilled to be in Israel to celebrate its 63^rd birthday.

The day before Yom Ha’atzmaut each year is Yom Zikron. This is similar to our Memorial Day, in remembrance of the soldiers that have fallen in protection of the country. A siren sounds at the start of it, at 8pm the night before, and people again stop what they’re doing and stand (my roommate and I were at home, so we stopped, as well). Programs on TV again share stories, and one channel flashes a name per second of the 22,867 soldiers who have died in the line of duty and the 3,971 civilian terror victims. Then again the next morning at 11am, the siren sounds. From our balcony, my roommate and I could hear several different sirens bouncing off the wadi walls start and stop just moments apart and on slightly different notes. Such a strange experience. There are ceremonies in honor of the soldiers and civilians, and many people visit cemeteries where their loved ones are buried. This is all to help people remember (the day before Independence Day) the kind of thing we say in the states a lot, about freedom not being free.

The next day at lunch, I don’t remember what the initial question was that I asked, but as my coworker began to answer it and I didn’t understand something, he backed up to clarify that point, and then as I needed more clarification, he had to back up again, and again, and again, until we’d spent probably an hour and a half on a much needed history lesson. I kept just feeling like if we could all follow Robert Fulghum’s advice on that poster, “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten”, the world would be a very different place.

That night Yom Zikron (Memorial Day) ended, and at sunset, Yom Ha’atzmaut (Independence Day) began. :-D One of the students at Shema was informing me that Israel is 63 years old and asked how old the USA is. I had to stop and do the math, which he thought was strange, and when I answered, he was in awe at our 200+ years. I had to laugh as I thought of how new our country still is compared to so many others around the world, but how it seems so old when compared to Israel.

As the sun set, I joined a group from my congregation for a time of worship, prayer for the country, and dinner, and then we head out to the street party. There is a fountain in the middle of a round-about that’s partway between my house and the university. The day before, they had covered it up with a big stage, and surrounded it with light trees, speakers, and huge screens. I was thrilled to be here for it! On the walk toward the stage, we stopped to watch one of the many firework shows going on around the city, and I again thoroughly enjoyed walking down the wide open roads that were closed to cars for the evening. Before coming close to the stage, we passed through the security, who checked our bags and waved their bomb-detecting wands over us. How strange that that’s such a daily experience here. I wonder if Israeli’s feel odd when it doesn’t happen to them when they’re abroad. Is it like how I feel off-balance and odd when I leave my purse at home for a day? That a little something is missing...

We danced the night away on the street, with several different artists performing, and all kinds of special Independence Day foods. I opted for the cotton candy that was probably three times the size of my head, and happily shared it with those I’d come with, and those we met along the way. For days, people had been selling flags at almost every street corner, and this day booths appeared in the main parts of town selling all kinds of gadgets for the celebration: noise makers, and giant inflatable hammers, and various spinning and illuminating trinkets. It was a loud, fun, sparkly evening, and I am so thankful that I got to be in the country for these days, and look forward to being back in the states on the 4^th of July (Mmmm, Apple Pie). :)