Across the lines

RONI KEIDAR’S house is close to the Gaza Strip — so close that when the border heats up, she hears the attacks from both sides: The thud of Israeli missiles hammering targets inside the Hamas-controlled area and the whoosh of Palestinian rockets being launched into Israel.

When the fighting began again a couple of weeks ago, the 69-year-old Israeli took extra precautions. She moved her bed to the bomb shelter adjoining her kitchen, so she and her husband wouldn’t have to get up when the sirens wailed at night. “He has a bad hip, so it’s hard for him to move quickly,” she said last week at the home where they’ve lived for nearly 30 years. She said goodbye to her grown children as they relocated north to get their own children out of the line of fire. And then Keidar did something unusual for most Israelis: She texted a Palestinian friend in Gaza.

The friend, who asks that we call her Mimi Ibrahim, opened the conversation on the second day of the fighting, as Israeli air-strikes shook homes throughout the crowded enclave. “Hi Roni,” she wrote. “I hope you and your family are well and safe. What’s happening is really insane. Please take care and stay safe. Love, Mimi.” Keidar felt the warmth of the gesture but also the sheer weirdness of the circumstances. Rockets fired from Gaza — maybe even from Ibrahim’s neighbourhood — were raining around Keidar’s tiny farming town, Netiv Ha’asara. “Thank you for your concern,” Keidar replied. “I’m thinking of you since it all started and I hope you and your family are okay. If only our leaders would talk. Take care.” It took only a minute for Ibrahim to respond: “Our leaders don’t care about us. The situation is really bad and I expect it to get worse. I hear bombing everywhere. We are safe so far. Take care.”