I started writing my book, Grains of Sand:The Fall of Neve Dekalim, in Nissan 5765 (April 2005) and finished a year later in Nissan 5766 (April 2006).  The tragic events regarding Gush Katif and their bitter aftermath burned in me, forcing me to take pen in hand and spill the burning lava of my thoughts and emotions onto white paper.  And as I wrote, my thoughts took form and shape; and the book became richer and the plot clearer.

      My book is not about terror.  In Gush Katif we lived in the shadow of terror for five years, Intifada II. We experienced stone throwing on the road, shooting on the road, Arab infiltrations, road side bombs, knife stabbings, more than 5,000 mortars and Kassam rockets… yet this book is not about terror.  I do not mean to belittle neither the Arab attacks nor the pain of Jews wounded and/or killed, yet in writing a book about Gush Katif I do not focus on terror – because the people of the Gush did not let it affect their lives!  It seems remarkable, incredible, even impossible, but it is true.  Mortars fell as children walked to school, as children walked home and as children played outside with friends.  Some people were injured some were even killed by different forms of Arab attacks. But even the mortars did not fall every day and so we continued to go to school, to go to the beach, to go on walks and go about our daily errands about town.  We did not ignore the terror – we could not ignore the terror, but we did not allow it to disrupt our lives.

       My book is about a Gush Katif family.  Much of the dialogue is true.  Most of the events are true. The portrayal of any characters in this book is not meant to resemble any living person. The closeness, the harmony, the sweetness of this family as well as the sorrow, the worries and the pain are true to life – true to my life.

      I can only hope that my book be a faithful portrayal of the years before and during Disengagement.  Many threads are woven into my book:  some are dark and some bright, some thick and some thin, some dull and some that sparkle.  Dear reader, gaze carefully at my tapestry, stare with wonder and respect, touch gently and gingerly.  Because it tells the tale of a vibrant community now smashed to gray piles of rubble.  Because it tells the tale of people whose flowers were picked, whose saplings were hewn and, in the end, whose roots were cruelly ripped out.


     Because Neve Dekalim has fallen.

www.geocities.com/nevedekalim