search
Adele Raemer
Life on the Border with the Gaza Strip

Mishmeret 101 – A Silent Cry for Hope

My People

Mishmeret 101 is a silent, Gandhi-inspired gathering that the women-folk of hostage familes have been leading for some time now. Participants come dressed in white shirts and sit in silence, hoping that the quiet will speak louder than the noise. The first such gathering I joined was in Jerusalem, months ago.

Yesterday, they came to Re’im Park — just a seven-minute drive from my home on Kibbutz Nirim.

Ceramic sea of poppies

Re’im used to be our spot for Saturday morning picnics, a hidden gem known only to those of us living in the region. In winter, it would turn into a sea of red as wild poppies blanketed the fields. That beauty was stolen from us on October 7th, just like so much else we once held dear. Today, the park is infamous — known around the world as the site of the Nova Music Festival, where so many young lives were brutally taken, where atrocities of slaughter, rape, and kidnapping took place.

The same park has become a symbol of both horror and hope. Some of the hostages who are still, after 596 days, languishing in Gaza’s terror tunnels, were taken from there. A place that once echoed with laughter now carries the distant sounds of explosions — and yesterday, the haunting music of the Nova exhibition bled into the sounds of war and the silence of our vigil.

Silence resonating

Hundreds came, wearing white, holding flags printed with 59 names — each representing a hostage still missing. One name had a heart beside it: Idan Alexander, returned from captivity.

The flag with 59 names

Among the supporters was a young boy who had celebrated his Bar Mitzvah just the day before. In honor of his milestone, he collected money to bake challot for Shabbat and created small flower arrangements to share at the gathering. His family came to give their blessings to the representatives of the hostage families — wishes for health, strength, and the safe return of loved ones.

There are good people in this country. When this war began, it was the citizens who rose first to help. Though the country is in political turmoil, the people remain strong, united by love for Am Yisrael.


These are the moments that give me strength. These are the moments that remind me:
Am Yisrael Chai — the People of Israel live.
You only need to look around to see it.

About the Author
The writer (aka "Zioness on the Border" on social media) is a mother and a grandmother who since 1975 has been living and raising her family on Kibbutz Nirim along the usually paradisiacal, sometimes hellishly volatile border with the Gaza Strip. She founded and moderates a 14K-strong Facebook group named "Life on the Border with Gaza". The writer blogs about the dreams and dramas that are part of border kibbutznik life. Until recently, she could often be found photographing her beloved region, which is exactly what she had planned to do at sunrise, October 7th. Fortunately, she did not go out that morning. As a result, she survived the murderous terror infiltrations of that tragic day, hunkering down in her safe room with her 33-year-old son for 11 terrifying hours. So many of her friends and neighbors, though, were not so lucky. More than she can even count. Adele was an educator for 38 years in her regional school, and has been one of the go-to voices of the Western Negev when escalations on the southern border have journalists looking for people on the ground. On October 7, her 95% Heaven transformed into 100% Hell. Since then she has given a multitude of interviews, going abroad on seven missions in support of Israel and as an advocate for her people. In addition to fighting the current wave of lies and blood libels about the Jewish state, she is raising money to help restore their Paradise so that members of her kibbutz can return to their homes on the border, where they can begin to heal. If you wish to learn more about how you can help her and her community return home, please feel free to drop her a line.