Reporting trip to Israel becomes a mission to educate other reporters

In my view

by Malka Eisenberg

Issue of April 16, 2010/ 2 Iyur 5770

With my two daughters, a son-in-law, a future son-in-law, and a granddaughter in Israel, baruch Hashem I don’t really need an excuse to visit, but between Purim and Pesach I was invited by Ben Gurion University to join a group of journalists to observe the cutting edge research in the Negev. Being fluent in Hebrew and familiar with Israel, I was tapped to assist at times.

The itinerary covered an archeological site, showing the presence of Jews in Israel for thousands of years, a settlement, the security fence, tours of labs and farms and lectures on health and science research including robotics, nanotechnology and solar energy.

The trip was well run and was intended to educate a diverse group of journalists principally interested in the science aspects of Israel. I cover a wide range of topics, but focus on science and health and consider myself a life long student of history, especially Israel and Judaism.

I was the only dati person on the trip and I skipped the Shabbat program, opting for a real Shabbat atmosphere with one daughter. I rejoined the group Motza’ei Shabbat at a restaurant. I was quiet, assessing my surroundings and trying to connect names and faces. The next morning I boarded the bus to take us via Susie and Avigayil to Beer Sheva. If they had any doubt as to where I stood religiously and politically (hat, skirt, three quarter sleeves) I introduced my daughter and her chatan - he in paratrooper uniform and kippah seruga with his gun slung over his shoulder - who came to see me off.

I sat in the back. As we exited Yerushalayim, one of the journalists opined, “That’s a disputed settlement and over the green line.” Out of my mouth came testily, “That is Ramot, a neighborhood of Jerusalem.” “Some people would say it shouldn’t exist,” she said. “Some say the Jewish people and the State of Israel shouldn’t exist,” I retorted. Loud silence. She turned. “I agree with you, Malka,” and thus began my hasbara mission.

I began with the people sitting around me, pointing out the ancient town of Motza, the wrecked vehicles dotting the road to Jerusalem and explaining the history of the siege, the many who died to bring food and medical supplies, and who were massacred by the Arabs, the battles for Latrun, the village of Abu Ghosh and its peaceful coexistence with Israel.

After two days of intense science and health lectures, we had a breakfast meeting with a Bedouin woman, a doctorate in sociology, who studied and lectures at Ben Gurion University. Although mostly concerned with the Arab woman’s role in Bedouin society in Israel, she made various statements and claims condemning Israel - stating that there were 180,000 Bedouins living in Beer Sheva before 1948 and the Jews destroyed their educational system, a boys and a girls school there. The other journalists were hanging on her every word, smiling and nodding, some wanting to interview her extensively later. I stewed and later confronted one of the mission leaders loudly on the bus about her statistics. He agreed with me but wouldn’t let me discuss this with the other journalists (I made sure they heard me, though). He noted that today the total population of Beer Sheva is about 180,000. (Sources I checked put Beer Sheva’s pre-1948 population at about 4000.) One of the nodders was a radio journalist well known for her anti-Israel reports. Having heard her often one-sided broadcasts, I attempted to avoid her when she was introduced, not knowing what I might say, but she approached me and introduced herself. I introduced myself, “Hi, I’m Malka Eisenberg from the Jewish Star. Aren’t you the journalist who issues the anti-Israel reports for _____?” Her face froze. “The Arabs say that I’m pro-Israel,” she said. We managed to avoid each other after that, although one other journalist suggested that I try to discuss my views with her.

We visited a Bedouin village to see one of the places where Siroka Hospital sends its mobile medical unit that is also, two days a week, a palliative care unit. It makes the rounds among the remote Jewish and Bedouin villages in the area. I pointed out the matnas, community center, built with funds from Israel’s lottery, the Payis and the huge, magnificent houses of this unrecognized village. I noticed one of the journalists taking pictures of some of the padlocked small abandoned buildings in the town. I asked her why she was photographing rundown structures; why not show the magnificent homes? She said they were artistic. I had my doubts.

That night we ate in an Indian restaurant in Beer Sheva (Little India, good Hashgacha and food) and listened to a left-leaning doctor of anthropology discourse on his specialty: food. I asked some benign questions. As the meeting broke up, I approached the speaker and introduced myself and added that I lived in Kedumim (a town in the Shomron known for its right-leaning occupants) for three years. He stiffened and we began a rapid-fire discussion in Hebrew and English on Israel, Arabs, Jews, territory and politics. I kept calm, knowing that I had to be careful to keep it friendly. The other journalists formed a circle around us; I felt like I was in a verbal sparring match. I knew we wouldn’t agree so I half turned to the circle and said, motioning to my fellow combatant, “You see, we could both sit down and sing zemirot together at the Shabbat table and get along fine; we just agree to disagree on certain things.” He took us on a walking tour of downtown Beer Sheva and we parted amicably.

At the last meal on the way to the airport, I pulled out a map of Israel, showing those around me the borders and giving a crash course in the history of the area, putting the smattering of information from the trip into perspective.

On the way to the airport, I overheard one of the trip coordinators say, “Let’s ask Malka.” They asked me to tell the history of Masada, and I did, in brief. One of the journalists said I should be a history professor. I wouldn’t go that far.

Aside from returning with a great deal of material to write for publication, I learned how important it is for every Jew to be well versed in the history and geography of Israel, to look at it from a Torah perspective and to be able to defend our right to exist as Jews in our own land. I also learned that it is important to keep a calm, even tone, maintain a sense of humor and always show and do: I always made sure to wash and bench at every meal and if the food was questionable I did not eat. Davening Shacharit was easy; I just got up early. At times I had to daven Mincha in a corner. Overall, it was a great experience and as hot as Beer Sheva is in the summer, it’s a pretty cool town.