Sukkot in Tel Aviv/Darfur

September 27, 2007

Another week, another big holiday in Israel. Today was Sukkot.

I spent today, Sukkot, helping deliver food to three shelters for African refugees with Shai and Keren who are extreme leftist Israeli activists and are making a documentary on Israel’s treatment of the refugees. I am told there are only about 10 people in Tel Aviv that help these people. They typically go to restaurants to get donated food. But, since this is a holiday and most are closed, we had to buy it at a market that was opened in the immigrant neighborhood. We spent $250 on what turned out to be far short of what was needed. There were at least a couple of hundred people there. Most were from Darfur but some from Eritrea and The Ivory Coast. The Ivory Coast people had it the worst as they were not eligible for refugee status from the UN. The others were and could therefore, eventually, get work permits. Those from the Ivory Coast could be arrested if they walked on the streets. Therefore, they were doomed to sit and wait and wait in the gloomy and sometimes grotesque conditions of the shelters. I say, “grotesque”, because one had a sewer that had been backing up and flooding the bathrooms and other rooms with raw sewage. Money was raised and the problem was fixed a couple of weeks ago but it’s happened again.

It is tough as these people don’t know what has happened to their families and that have to sit for often a month to be able to get a permit to work. They stay in these crowded rooms with mattresses on the floors lying shoulder to shoulder. And, there are always more that arrive every day. Some speak English; others, French or Arabic.

Shai did a film on Israeli persecution of the Palestinians and is now using Keren to be his camera person in his documentary on these refugees in Israel. They work hard for these people and have developed strong friendships with many of them. As we approach the neighborhood, they run up to greet them warmly. I see Shai give 150 Shekels to a 16 year old boy who Shai has been trying to find for three days as the boy is alone here and can’t yet get work. He needs to eat. I am told that the shelters we are about to see are rented by the refugees themselves and that there is really no official running them.

We approach the first of the three shelters with just Darfurians. And, as it is a holiday, the streets are quiet. I see a peach colored shopping bag falling straight down from high above. It inflates and deflates, giving the impression of a jellyfish floating down toward us. I realize that we are beneath the surface of the rest of the world. The Darfurians leaned up against the building outside on the hot day in September. I found out why as we descended the stairs into the basement that was the shelter. It was a furnace with only one small fan blowing on a little boy that was asleep. Shai said there were more fans but people who found other accommodations kept stealing them. It was so hot. They were all grateful for the food and loaded the cans into the refrigerator. I knew that many had not ever used one before but I didn’t think it was the time to tell them what had to be cold and what did not.

The second food (fruits, vegetables, bread, and canned goods) drop-off was in a church on the second floor of a building. These were Christians and most were from Nigeria. One Muslim was there but moved elsewhere as the Pastor kept urging him to convert to Christianity. This place was nicer and had some fresh air. We wondered why there were decent clothes tossed in front of the building. We gathered them when we left as we knew the cold weather was coming and people would want them.

We arrived at the third drop-off point at the third shelter. This was as bad as the first. Usually, the shelters house people from one country with a common language. This was a former bar called The Bulldog. It was in the bottom floor of what used to be a beautiful building with beautiful architecture. Now, it housed immigrants above with the shelter below. It was divided into sections for Eritreans, Sudanese, and Ivorians. Those from the Ivory Coast had it the worst as the UN does not give them refugee status. They fear that if they are seen on the street, they could be arrested and deported. I’ll keep looking into their story.

This place was in deplorable condition. They had the chronic sewer problem that kept flooding the place. They used the sink sprayer in the kitchen as their shower. There was no toilet paper so I am told they clean themselves as they did in Africa with their hands and water. Those that could speak English would approach us pleading for help and for more food. Most did not know that we were just neighbors and had no UN affiliation. They were kind and respectful but you could see the remorse in their eyes. It is overcrowded and more arrive each day. We didn’t tell them of the 60+ people that we expected to arrive on Sunday from the Israeli prison.

Israel is such a tiny country and was founded by refugees. The dilemma comes in the question of “How comfortable should we make it here for the refugees?” Israel may wish to help but do they want to encourage millions of refugees to line up at their borders and sneak in? Do they set up large refugees camps to protect them in the south of the country? Kenya did that in the early 1990’s and many people still have not left these camps. Israel has voted to allow many of them to stay. Laws seem to get better to allow greater solidarity.

It was a fitting day to give food to a shelter on the day when Jews are supposed to feast in huts (sukkahs) and invite neighbors to join us. I never made it to sukkah but doubt others had such a day as I had.