
Updated: 10/25/2005
By Danielle Max
HappyNews Citizen Journalist
The disengagement is complete and the settlers have left the Gaza strip; some went willingly, others had to be forcibly removed by Israeli soldiers. The story has been pushed out of the world spotlight by recent events, but the former Jewish residents of Gaza, or Gush Katif to give it its Hebrew name, are just beginning to establish lives for themselves and their families in new homes.
Some have made the transition more easily than others. Ronit Balaban belongs to the former category. A dark haired woman in her late-40s, Balaban is resolutely determined to rebuild her former life: albeit a slightly different life than she is used to.
For 20 years, Balaban, her husband, Ya'acov, and their three children lived in the Gaza community of Ganei Tal, where they owned a thriving business growing plants for export to Holland and Scandinavia. It was, said Balan, an ideal existence.
"We were very happy," she recalled, the pain evident on her sun browned face. "We called it our Garden of Eden."
With the realisation that the disengagement was moving rapidly from an abstract idea to an inevitable event, Balaban and her family decided that they had to develop a concrete plan to ensure that they could establish a viable future for themselves in their new home.
Rather than wait for a miracle reprieve, which is what many of Gaza's religious Jewish residents did, some nine months before the disengagement, Balaban contacted the director general of the Agricultural Ministry and asked him for help finding a suitable location for the family's business.
Twice a day Balaban called the director general's mobile phone begging for assistance, until, at last, a spot was found for the nursery.
Today the Balaban's are beginning the painfully slow process of re-establishing their nursery just outside Ashkelon, a seaport on the Mediterranean located north of Gaza.
Endless rows of seedlings and plants line the floor of the temporary greenhouses that the family are hurriedly setting up. Each plant has to be moved to growing tables, where they are connected to the water supply, which will prevent each precious sapling from drying up in the blistering sun.
The Balaban's know that they are not going to be able to sell this year's plants. They haven't been cared for enough, they are too small and their leaves are too yellow, but there is next season to think about—and the season after that.
The Thai workers employed by the Balabans rush around trying to get the greenhouses in working order as quickly as possible. Covered up in woollen hats and balaclavas to prevent the sun from darkening their skin, they stand in stark contrast to the shorts and t-shirt clad volunteers who have come to the greenhouses to help out for the day.
The workers move silently. They too have been removed from the only home they have known in Israel, a position that is causing Balaban a great deal of distress. They are currently living in temporary, basic accommodation on the site.
"I am very sad for them," admitted Balaban. "I have to give them a proper home and I can't. I am very upset with the situation because it isn't right and it isn't fair. They came from Thailand to work here, but how can I give them good accommodation when I am living in a motel room with only a small suitcase of possessions?"
Like every former resident of Gaza, the Balaban's are entitled to financial compensation from the Israeli government. So far though, the family has not received a shequel. The massive financial outlay of moving their plants out of Gaza and buying new greenhouses has come out of the family's own pocket. Now they are playing a curious waiting game with the government; they do not know when they are going to get their money or how much they will receive when it eventually arrives.
No matter how long it takes, to receive the compensation, Balaban is determined not to give up.
"I hope the government will take courage and say 'ok, we have to help the growers.' We are not against our government; we are with them, but we really need help. I want this for my children, and I am going to fight for it. I want my greenhouses back, and I am going to fight for them."
Despite the harsh conditions, upheaval and uncertainty she is facing, Balaban has made tremendous strides in getting her new greenhouses off the ground. "If you hold up your hands and say, 'I can't do it,' you are lost," she said, steely resolve evident in her voice.
The progress that the family has made is a testament to their will and determination. While they are well on the way to getting the business up and running again, other growers who are also trying to re-establish themselves are seemingly incapable of making the transition. In speaking of one of her neighbours, Balaban said, "He has been in the same place for three weeks. He stands there and he can't begin. I feel very sad for him; all his material is over there and he just can't begin."
The main problem that faces these displaced growers, Balaban believes, is a lack of money and a lack of courage, but though Balaban is lacking money, she seems to have courage to spare. Four and a half years ago, her husband was injured in a terrorist attack in Israel. But, just as she came out of that tragedy even stronger, she knows that she will also recover from this latest upheaval.
"We are going to build what was taken away from us, and I hope it will be as nice as it once was—twice as nice as it was." she said.
With her strength and determination, Ronit Balaban will surely fulfil her goal to see the family greenhouses blooming once again.
This story was produced by Happynews Citizen Journalist, Danielle Max. Max is a freelance writer living in Tel Aviv, Israel.
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