Life in Susya, Israel - 24 Hours is not Enough!

My day starts at the crack of dawn. I hear the rooster across the street at 5 a.m. My alarm goes off after I open my eyes.

I push “snooze” until 5:05. Then again until 5:10.

At 5:15 I swing my legs over the side of the bed and drag myself up. Bathroom, teeth, get dressed, lace up walking shoes.

At 5:25 I walk downstairs. The dogs have galloped into the “stairs room” and are waiting for me on the other side of the gate. We have two gates, to keep them downstairs. They’ve jumped over them a few times, but generally they stay put. They follow me into the kitchen.

5:30 kitchen - put chicken in backpack, fill up water bottle. Back into the stairs room, I put harnesses on the dogs. Put on my coat and gloves. Grab the leash. Put on the backpack. Open the door. Out they go.

It’s 5:40

We walk to the back gate — we have 3 gates around our house. I chain up one dog, Packer, to the leash. Coco runs without the leash. He never goes too far. We go out the back gate, down the path, by the nursery, down the stairs by Ayala’s house, then continuing by the Pizzeria, the Ambulance, and down the road to the bus stop. We cross here and go down the new path by the sport court which has gone up but still is without grass. Coco runs ahead. Packer takes his time checking out grass and trees, flowers and rocks. He squirts on everyplace, leaving messages for the other dogs.

We continue down the road by the swimming pool and cut through the field. It is an open field next to the greenhouses. If it is early enough, I let Packer off the leash, saying a little prayer to myself that he will stay with Coco and I’ll get him back on. But I really only feel comfortable letting him off the leash on Shabbat, when 1) people will sleep longer and 2) nobody will call the authorities if he runs away.

Today, I worry. It is a nice day, it is already 6 a.m. and people wake up and start their day early like me. Some couples walk in the early morning and are afraid of dogs. There is a bus that comes into the yishuv at 6:30, so people will be waiting. And the store opens at 7.

I am not the only one starting the day early. I feel alone, but I know I am not.

And isn’t that just like the Jewish People everywhere? We sometimes feel alone. But we know we are not.

We go up the hill to the “rujum” fortress and there we see the patrol car and the guard. One of our own team. The guard is praying. He is a young father. I know the wife and children. They are learning to swim and I got to know them this past summer.

Coco runs over to sniff him and is ignored. Packer stays with me. He has no choice, being on the leash. The two of us climb the fortress slowly, carefully. It is hard enough to climb alone, but a bit dangerous with a dog on a leash. A big dog. But we do it and we make it up to the top. I unzip my backpack and take out a dish and water bottle. I pour water. Coco comes running up. I never need to worry about him. He always comes to me.

They drink out of the same dish, lapping up the water. I drink out of the bottle. This is our break.

Water. It is delicious. I love these moments. In the wind, with the clean crisp winter air on my face. The sun just coming up. We hear the chickens and dogs from the Arabs right in front of us, across the valley. They are “squatters” calling themselves Susya, refusing to move, inching in bit by bit closer and closer every year. When we moved here in 2007 there were a handful of those dwellings. Now they have spread out and grown.

This competition is happening all over Yehuda and Shomron. In the Negev, I understand it is even worse. So much empty land. If Jews don’t take it, the Arabs will. And they will “use” the land and “waste” the resources and terrorize the population around them.

It’s what they do. This is just fact.

We finish our water break and I pack up the dish and bottle. I have chicken in a baggie but I am saving it for later.

We climb down. I grab the leash and wind it around my wrist several times, keeping Packer close so he doesn’t pull me down. It is scary climbing down a fortress.

We make it to the ground, and we walk out towards the “pillbox” which is really a guard station. This is beyond the security road and we wave to the guard as we walk by. He is watching us and is probably happy for the distraction.

It is usually quiet here and all around our yishuv. But we must be alert.

Infiltrations happen when it is quiet and when people are complacent. When we are asleep in our beds, with our eyes closed, minding our own business. That’s when crime occurs, and when it is easy to break in.

The dogs and I make our way to the edge where I sit down on the edge of a rock. This is our usual water break place…easier than climbing up the fortress. Here, we are even closer to the Arab settlement and we clearly see the people and dogs.

Packer sits with me and Coco walks around chasing birds and smelling plants. After five minutes we go.

I check my watch. It has been 25 minutes since we left the house. It is 6:10. We risk bumping into people if we keep going. Coco scares people and he is still childish, only 1-½ years old. I have to make a decision. Do we go to another hill or go directly home?

It depends on the weather. Is it wet and slippery? If so, we should go back. The dogs get muddy and that of course gets into the house. If we go back on the road, they stay relatively clean.

But that’s no fun and they don’t get exercised enough. What a conundrum!!

I decide to continue on….so off we go to the Degel, which is the next hill. To get there, we need to navigate down a rocky valley opposite Avishav’s farm. He is the son of my neighbor and has six kids, mostly girls. The second one is my daughter’s friend and is a dancer. The wife is a nurse. I remember when they were first married and lived in a caravan. For the last 10 years or so, they’ve built up this farm and now have chickens, horses, donkeys, and goats. They also have a few shepherds who live on the hill in their own lodgings, like a tent, but more solid.

These shepherds are throughout Yehuda and Shomron. Who are they? They are high school dropouts. These kids are ages 14 and 15, and they don’t really do well in school, so they find these farms and become helpers. They take out the flocks. And these kids, these young kids who help with these farms, are the ones being attacked by the Arabs. These are the ones people call “settler violence” because they fight back!

I know these kids. I have seen them grow up. I know their parents and I know their grandparents and their siblings. They are the future of Yehuda and Shomron and thank goodness for them. They are tough and brave.

They are like King David.

We need them. We need more of them. We need to learn from them. We need to emulate them.

I see them and I am proud of them. And a little scared. They aren’t like polite society Jews.

What do our enemies see? Are they afraid of these shepherd warriors?

The dogs and I make it past the farm and over to the Degel where the yishuv has set up a memorial site for the four soldiers that were killed this past year. The memorial site is comprised of a pergola and benches, swings, trees, and a path. Along the path are ceramic signs with wording and a photo of each boy. It is not even a year since they were killed and this memorial was put up in the summer. That’s Israeli society. Quick with the memorials. Slow with so much else.

We have a drink of water here and then make our way home.

It’s been an hour. We get home and it is already 6:45.

Natalie Sopinsky is originally from Delaware. She lives in Susya, Israel, with her family and two dogs. She is the spokesperson for Rescuers Without Borders.