Date: Thu, 22 Mar 2001 16:30:48 +0200
From: Hebron <[email protected]>

Music Lessons Under Fire

by Svetlana (Ora) Shneidman

 

 
 

I want to tell you a story that happened to me not too long ago.

I am a music teacher in Hebron. Did you know that there are musical instruments in many homes in Jewish Hebron? These instruments are not just part of the furniture, rather, they are used to make music. Perhaps many readers will be surprised to learn that Hebron's Jewish community recently dedicated a music center, which is a branch of the Kiryat Arba Community Music Center. Many children have expressed a desire to learn here.

It is accepted to think that residents of the Jewish Community of Hebron are rifle-carrying crazy zealots who begin the day shooting at Arabs before breakfast, terrorize the same Arabs again before lunch, and then after dinner, protest government policies. Their children are portrayed as little monsters who never see their parents, do not grow up in an atmosphere of love and warmth, and therefore it is impossible to use the word 'education' when referring to them.

For your information, these children, who are supposedly growing up as extremists opposed to peace, study in various creative groups, including drawing and sculpture, and take piano, organ, violin and flute lessons.

Let me return to my story. On that day, it was my third day working in Hebron as a music teacher. Everything was new and just beginning. We were setting up schedules, developing our teaching methods, the children didn't yet know me well and I really didn't yet know them.

My classroom is in the Avraham Avinu neighborhood in Hebron. It is a small room, full of sunlight and a pleasant atmosphere. Next to the room is a playground, with benches for mothers. In order to reach my room it is necessary to cross a path, which is next to the sandbox. On this particular day, the path was turned into a firing zone. On one of the rooftops (they still don't know which one) opposite the Avraham Avinu neighborhood, an Arab sniper was hiding. His first bullet was aimed at a pregnant woman who was walking outside with her children. The second bullet was aimed at my director, Chava, who was, at the time, hurrying to her classroom next to mine. Luckily, the bullet missed her by a few centimeters and hit a garbage can next to the sandbox.

When the bullets were fired I heard a strange noise, but didn't realize what was happening.  I peeked out the window and suddenly saw, very close to me, residents of the neighborhood and their children excitedly turning to the soldiers and showing them where the bullets had hit. All of them were looking at Chava. One of them was my student, who was a little late for her class. Also, there was another student, a little red-haired boy, who was supposed to be learning with Chava. I realized that the shooting zone, where the bullets had been fired, divided between me and them.

My fingertips turned to ice. I saw that the Hebron residents were very tense and were standing very close to the walls of the buildings, protecting the children with their bodies. Suddenly Chava's eyes met mine. I sensed that she feared for me, and intended to run to me via the path where the shooting has occurred in order to calm me. For me, this was the first time I experienced such a shooting attack.

I must add that I live in Kiryat Arba and unfortunately, just like everyone else there, I have become accustomed to hearing the shooting at Hebron.  From the beginning of this war, the echoes of the gunshots wake us up at night and frighten us.

Once I told one of my students from Hebron that when I hear the gunfire I think of her. She answered, "Thank you. I will also think of you when there is shooting and each time, I will make note of it." A week later she brought me a whole stack of notes. I was shocked, because each slip of paper represented a shooting attack. My L-rd, how many shootings did this girl experience this past week?!

Back to my story. My suspicions concerning Chava were true. As a Hebron resident, and due to her personal experience, she knows how frightening it is the first time you find yourself under fire. Soldiers react, and shooting begins... By the way, an army outpost is on the roof above my classroom, where I teach.

This scene doesn't leave me and has stayed with even until today. Chava runs, crossing the shooting zone, where the sniper had just shot. Following her is her small student, carrying his flute and music book. A second later the air iss filled with rifles and machine guns shooting, as in a war zone. I can't believe that what is happening right next to me is real, and for a moment I cannot  comprehend that I am a part of this reality.

Suddenly, with the shooting and booms in the background, my student appears. Even under fire, she arrives for her lesson. It would be a shame to miss it, even if we only have a few minutes. With the shooting continuing around us, we begin our music lesson.

This courageous girl tries to comfort me: "Don't be afraid, those are our soldiers shooting back, protecting us." By the way, this girl's mother is pregnant, and was almost hit by the sniper's first bullet.

To my surprise, on that day, all my students arrived for their lessons.

I won't detail all of my journey home. The bus stop was off-limits because it was within the line of fire, and was all lit up, too susceptible to sniper gunfire. I had to wait for the bus on the other side of the street, next to a stone wall. I hid myself so well that the sniper didn't see me, but neither did the bus driver. He sped past me and didn't stop at the empty bus stop.  Fortunately a car went past and picked me up. The driver could barely restart the engine and really didn't have room for my musical instruments, but I was ecstatic. Maybe I would somehow get home!  We were accompanied by soldiers screaming, "Faster, faster - it's dangerous here, drive faster."

When I arrived back in Kiryat Arba I felt like I'd made it to the Garden of Eden. Around me, flowers, birds, fragrances, and all this, just five minutes from downtown Hebron!

When my family heard my story they decided unanimously, I would no longer travel to Hebron. I didn't agree with them for a simple reason. I am a teacher for 18 years and this is the first time that all my students are unwilling to miss a lesson, even when it is so dangerous to get to the classroom.

I must add that in spite of the fact that my family and I are not religious, as with about 40% of Kiryat Arba's residents, I am proud that my children are growing up together with people so brave, responsible, and strong in their faith.  I am sure that my children and the children of my other secular friends, together with the religious children, are united in their love and dedication to Eretz Yisrael. They will never sell their homeland, as are others, including generals.

So I continue coming to Hebron, ready to teach my young students, children I will never forget, children who refuse to miss their music lessons, even under fire.

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Svetlana (Ora) Shneidman is an Olah Hadasha (New Immagrant) and teaches piano in Kiryat-Arba and Hebron.

Translated from Russian to Hebrew by Mark Harak.