IndieCity is back, and this season is dedicated to the Gaza Envelope. Seven music videos were filmed at various places in the Gaza Envelope and one in Hostages Square in Tel Aviv. Check them all out here. "In the Place Where I Live" is taken from Jimbo J's latest album, which was completed just before October 7th and features texts about his life in Kibbutz Or HaNer (just outside of Sderot). Since filming this clip, he's returned to the kibbutz with his family, to the same beautiful landscape but to a very different reality. I've been thinking a lot about the families in the Gaza Envelope. In many cases, the parents grew up somewhere else but fell in love with the landscape, the laid-back atmosphere, and the opportunity to live in a community with like-minded neighbors. How aware were they of the threat from Gaza? Up until October 7th, there was a common saying that life in the area was 99% heaven and 1% hell, a peaceful life that was sometimes interrupted by a heavy round of rockets during which families often packed up and left for a quieter place in the country, usually for about a week or so. The biggest threat was tunnels leading into Israel but that had been solved by the IDF's above-and-below-ground barrier, and in any case, families were reassured that they were being protected by the army. Amir Tibon, who moved to Kibbutz Nachal Oz with his wife in 2014 and started a family there, describes in his moving memoir "The Gates of Gaza" not just his father's heroic journey to rescue his family on October 7th but also how life was in the kibbutz dating back to its founding in 1953. The book also gives a clear-eyed account of Israel's (and specifically Netanyahu's) relationship with Hamas and what led to this sense of quiet and security. It's still not clear how things will develop in the South, and in the North, but I doubt that families living by the border will be reassured again by "quiet will be answered with quiet".
*English subtitles are available in the video's settings
In memory of the beautiful souls ruthlessly murdered on October 7th. This heartbreaking video first aired about two weeks after the massacre when the fate of so many festival-goers was still unclear. Ofir Tzarfati, who was celebrating his 27th birthday at the festival, was declared dead in late November and on December 1st the IDF announced that it had rescued his body from Gaza. Ruth Peretz, 16, born with cerebral palsy and muscular dystrophy, was a fixture at music raves and was confirmed dead after many days of uncertainty. Inbar Heyman, 27, volunteered at the festival as a helper, assisting those who felt unwell. In December her family was informed of her murder in captivity. Mia Schem, 22, was released in late November and has said that she can't begin her recovery until the remaining hostages return home, a statement echoed by other hostages who were released.
Although this beautiful song wasn't released as a memorial song, it quickly became one and was often played on the radio on quiet days after terrorist attacks and at memorial ceremonies. Because of the lyrics, up until October 7th it was often associated with surviving the Holocaust and the forest that I would see in my mind when listening to it was in Eastern Europe. Now I see in my mind the Reim forest and when I listen to the lyrics I think of the hostages in the tunnels yearning to be free. We won't be able to see the light until they will be able to see the light.
It's not exactly a joyous new year. Yesterday afternoon right before heading out to the family Rosh Hashana dinner news broke that eight IDF soldiers had died in battle in Lebanon while fighting Hezbollah operatives and later in the evening we learned more about the victims who were murdered in Tuesday's terror attack at a light rail station in Jaffa. Of course, the main topic of conversation at the dinner was Iran's heavy missile attack and where it had caught us. I was at my mom's place and when the sirens began we headed with our two dogs to the stairs, trying to calm them down. They had gotten used to a siren here and there but could sense that this was clearly different. I bumped into a neighbor I always chat with and we settled into our usual small talk as if we were just waiting for the elevator and not taking cover from missiles. "They better not start with this again tomorrow, I have so much cooking to do!" she said, and at that moment I felt that things were going to be okay. As Peer Tasi sings, who knows what tomorrow will bring, we can only hope for the best and take comfort in being with our loved ones. Here's to a much better year ahead. ♥
I thought of this clip recently which is taken from Pablo Rosenberg and Gal Toren's very successful show 'Trip after the Army'. In the first season they followed in the footsteps of young Israelis just out of the army who traveled to India, and in later seasons they went to South America and Japan, always combining their curiosity for new places with humor and their love for singing with people. In the 5th season they traveled throughout the country and this clip was filmed in Rehaniya, a Circassian town near the border of Lebanon. In the episode the mother explains that they are Muslims who make an effort to preserve their Circassian heritage - at school, the kids learn Circassian, Hebrew, Arabic, and English. While they preserve their Circassian culture they are also part of Israeli society and Pablo and Gal chose to sing this Shlomo Artzi classic after hearing from the mother how much she loves him, and also after she told them about her late husband who passed away three years earlier. I love everything about this clip but it's painful to realize that visiting Rehaniya is unthinkable today, a situation that needs to be changed though no one can guarantee that this new stage of escalation we're in will really bring life back to normal in Rehaniya and in other towns in the north.
An excellent translation of the full version by Moshe Kaye, taken from LyricsTranslate:
Changes in the weather have caused me to think
that in addition I am also sad about you
near the house that was my home, they have paved a road
I know, something here changes.
Here is a cloud,
similar to other clouds that already passed by and despite it all I still see shapes
Once I would come close
with all my body for your kisses,
I would come to you, to learn everything.
Once there were with me other people
I am left with only their names
the sea also wipes away names - written in the sand.
but now I know,
that despite it all you are with me,
and together, the two of us together, were born.
Changes in the people have made me think
that besides you I don't have anyone to love
near the house that was my home, they have paved a road
I know something about good and evil.
Here is the sea
Similar to another sea, and another sea and thus it will continue.
There is always the sea, there is always a boat.
Once I would come close...
That which you said and which you didn't made me think
That our words are meeting.
Near the house that was my home, they have paved a road
They gave it a name, they always give names.
Here you are also
Sometimes you are similar to the sea, and sometimes no
I've been thinking of this song a lot in the past few weeks, especially as we're nearing the high holidays and the first anniversary since October 7th which is just around the corner and falls this year on the 'terrible days', the time of reflection and soul-searching between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. I went to the hairdresser yesterday and was surprised to hear Stevie Wonder from the speakers. The last time I was there, in early April, there was no music playing and my hairdresser said it would stay that way until all the hostages would return. I don't blame him for putting the music back on, but I still felt a pang in my heart. The last time I went it was a few weeks before Passover and we talked about how hard it was to wish a happy holiday. Indeed, it was a very sad Passover though there was some sense of hope when we read the line 'next year in Jerusalem', surely we would all be together next year, right? Now we're approaching Rosh Hashana and the thought that so many families will be marking the new year without their loved ones is devastating. There's some sense of comfort in the realization that no matter what life moves on and yet, at the same time, it emphasizes just how stuck we all are when we could have been in a different place by now.
Heartbroken to hear of the tragic murder of six of our hostages: Hersh Goldberg-Polin, 23, Eden Yerushalmi, 24, Ori Danino, 25, Alex Lobanov, 32, Almog Sarusi, 27, and Carmel Gat, 40. Heartbroken and also furious, especially after hearing that they were killed by Hamas terrorists just a few days ago and that four of them were meant to be released in the first stage of the proposed hostage deal. For almost 11 months we have been told again and again that only force will bring the hostages back when it's clear that the remaining hostages are now more in danger than ever before. Getting them home alive as soon as possible should be the government's top priority but it clearly isn't and the risk of abandoning them again is too high, not just for them and their families but also for us as a society.
I thought of this chilling song when I heard Rachel Goldberg-Polin and Jon Polin's powerful speech at the DNC, when they recounted how Hersh and his best friend Aner went to the Nova music festival and found themselves at the Re'im death shelter where dozens were killed but at least seven were saved thanks to Aner's selfless heroism. Aner's parents wanted him to be remembered not just for his death but also for the life he led and the music he made, which he had dreamed of sharing with the world. After his death, Aner's parents and friends went through over 60 of his songs and chose six of them to release in an introductory E.P. Each one of them showcases his immense talent but this song especially reveals who Aner was and how he saw the world. I can't help but wonder if Hersh ever heard these songs back in Aner's room in Jerusalem. After all he had been through he was so close to getting his life back and Jon and Rachel were so close to finally getting their son back home.
People are being murdered on my street
Frightened
Can't you hear it in my voice?
Trying to concentrate on the half-full glass, shit
Again rockets in the air, going into the room
A stainless steel door I don't feel like I belong
But picking up a weapon won't make me feel that I do
For years I dream of seeing everything here quiet, there's no
Rest in my country for anyone
Kids in the Gaza envelope are sitting in a shelter
