(November 9, 2023) “I must say I enjoyed working like this,” said Rivka Chong Guite to our Newsletter after weeding cabbage fields this week in the farming village of Zrachia in southwest Israel. “It’s been a long time since I did anything like it. All we’ve been doing in our hotel room these past weeks is eat and sleep. All our chores are performed by the hotel staff. When the time comes to go back to Sderot, we won't need a bus, because we'll all have gotten so fat that we’ll just roll all the way there! Seriously, though, the day at Zrachia made me feel nostalgic. We B’nei Menashe grew up doing farm work. We’ve always been close to the soil. It's in our blood.”
Rivka was one of twenty of Sderot’s displaced B’nei Menashe now staying at government expense in hotels in Jerusalem who traveled to Zrachia this week to help the village’s farmers. “Actually,” we were told by
Volunteers working at a greenhouse, Zrachia .
Yitzhak Thangjom, the managing director of Degel Menashe, which provided the group with transportation, “we would have had many more volunteers if we could have afforded more than the single minibus we were able to rent. Sderot’s B’nei Menashe are now without work or a meaningful daily routine and are thirsting for something to do, especially if it aids the war effort.
Doron Rafaeli gives a ride to the volunteers. Yosef Demsat Haokip is at the back, with a 'thumbs-up'.
“These are people who have worked hard all their lives and aren’t used to just sitting around,” said Thangjom, who joined the group. “And though they haven’t practiced it in Israel, farming comes naturally to them. Almost every one of their families had its own plot of land or rice field back in Manipur. I’m one of the exceptions, because I’m a city boy from Imphal, grew up in New Delhi, and at first I was indignant when I saw two older Bnei Menashe women laughing at how I was weeding the cabbages. ‘What’s so funny?’ I asked. “‘You look like you're plucking a chicken,’ they said and showed me how to do it.”
Zrachia’s Rafaeli family, in whose fields the volunteers worked, was appreciative. “These people really knew how to work. We’re grateful for their skill and dedication,,” said DoronRefaeli, who like many Israeli farmers has been hard hit by a war that has left him without hired labor. For their part, the volunteers felt they had gotten as
Rivka Guite (left) and Dvora Tuboi (right) at the Old City Jerusalem.
much as they had given. “Working the land,” said Yosef Demsat Haokip, “especially the land of Israel, is an honor. I haven’t done any farm work since my Aliyah from Manipur two years ago. It’s something we’re cut out for. We sweated a lot, but when we were done my body felt lighter and healthier.”
Another group of Sderot’s displaced B’nei Menashe left their Jerusalem hotel rooms this week for the Western Wall, where they recited Psalms and prayed for Israel’s victory over Hamas. “By now we’re all homesick and tired of being looked after by the government all the time,” said one of them, Dvora Tuboi. “We want to get back to a normal life. But then again, if it weren’t for this war, we wouldn’t have had the chance to spend so much time in Jerusalem, walking its streets and praying in its holy places. We’ve seen and done things we would otherwise never have had a chance to, like getting up in the morning, sending our children to the makeshift school they’re attending, and going to the Wall to pray for our country. We’ll do it again and again until the war is won.”
Some members of the prayer group at the Western Wall.
At the time of this article being published, it has been reliably learnt that another group of B'nei Menashe are planning to volunteer at a farm next week.
(November 2, 2023) While their sons and husbands have gone off to war, the women of Israel’s B’nei Menashe community have been active on the home front. Here are five of their stories as told to our Newsletter.
Elisheva Polin, 47, from the town of Beit El in Samaria, north of Jerusalem:
Elisheva Polin.
“The Hamas attack of October 7 caught us by surprise. Only that evening, when Shabbat and Simchat Torah were over and we could check our cell phones and take calls, did we realize we were at war. Now, each of us has to do what she can to help our soldiers and our country.
“Many of us have husbands and children in the army. My son is serving in the army, and my daughter, who will soon be turning 18, plans to join too, even though as a girl from a religious home she’s not obliged to. My sister's older son returned home from abroad to join his unit. Her younger son is also in the army. In my immediate family, there are five men now in uniform. I’m proud of them all. But we women can’t just stay home and pray for them. We have to contribute, too.
“I’ve lived in Beit El since my family came to Israel when I was a teenager in the early 1990s.The first week of the fighting, all the women of Beit El, we Bnei Menashe too, got together to see what we could do. Reservists from the town and area were being called up and our community center served as their assembly point. We cooked food for them and served it while they waited to be sent to their bases. There must have been over a hundred of them. A few were subsequently stationed in Beit El to guard the settlement, and my sister and I bring them hot meals every Shabbat. There’s been a women’s drive to collect funds for the IDF, too. Although we B’nei Menashe aren’t as well-off as some others, we’ve given what we could.
Elisheva and her friends preparing food for the soldiers.
Alona Haokip, 28, from the village of Nokdim in Judea, southeast of Bethlehem.
Alona Haokip.
“I came with my family to Israel in 2012 and married my husband Sagi, a B’nei Menashe like myself, two years later. We lived in Ma'alot in the Upper Galilee until three years ago, when we moved to Nokdim to be close to Jerusalem. After all, Jerusalem is the pride and joy of a Jew, and though we couldn’t afford a home there, we wanted to be as near to it as possible.
“Sagi and I have two sons, Idan, who is eight, and Omer, who is six. Now I’m alone with them, because Sagi has been called up. This isn’t the first time. In the confrontation with Hamas two years ago, he was mobilized, too. Although I thought it would be the same this time, it hasn’t been, because we’re now in a full-scale war and Jerusalem has been rocketed, too. My parents live there, and for the first few days of the fighting we stayed with them, but when we saw they were coping well, we went back to Nokdim.
“I work at a local kindergarten. Idan studies in Jerusalem and has transportation there and back, but I have to drop Omer off at school in Nokdim before I report for work. They’re both independent and I should be all right until Sagi returns, though I know that could take a long time. Last time he was called up, he kept receiving his monthly pay check, and I hope it will be the same this time. I have two brothers in the army, too, one doing his regular service and one called up for reserve duty. I worry about all three but I try not to let my sons see it, because I don’t want to seem weak. I tell my boys that their father is a hero defending Israel. I want them to feel proud of him.
“After work I take Idan and Omer with me to our community center, where we prepare and pack food for our soldiers on the frontline. There are also many B’nei Menashe refugees from Sderot in Jerusalem, some of them friends and family, and I visit them quite often. Most are homesick and want to to home. I try to provide comfort and a sympathetic ear.”
Alona's husband, Sagi, called up for duty.
Moi Sarah Wolf, 53, from Beit El:
Moi Sara Wolf.
“I’ve always had a soft spot for soldiers. My father was one in Manipur, in the professional Indian army. Indian soldiers don’t have it easy; it's a thankless job that no outsider understands. It’s different, though, in Israel where everyone serves. I myself have two sons in the IDF.
“When the war broke out,. I was itching to do something, to contribute. I spoke to my friend Esther Schomberg in Efrat, a B’nei Menashe like myself. We' had already joined forces several months before to send food and medicine to our people in Manipur who were the victims of ethnic cleansing. Now, Esther told me about an organization called Unity Warriors that concentrates on aiding the IDF. We went back to our B”nei Menashe donors and friends of a few months ago and they gave whatever they could, even though most were still supporting families in Manipur. The funds we raised helped to buy extra provisions for our soldiers. I’m also volunteering with the rest of the women of Beit El, arranging for food to be delivered to soldiers wherever it’s needed. I’m doing all I can.
IDF soldiers called up for duty; David Vaiphei (extreme right), a Bnei Menashe resident of Beit El.
Aviela Singsit, 52, from the city of Migdal ha-Emek in the Lower Galilee:
Aviela Singsit.
“Though I live in Migdal ha-Emek I run a business managing guest houses in in the old neighborhood of Tzfat [Safed]. Together with a partner, I rent five such houses to tourists. I divide my time between the two places and sometimes spend Shabbat in Tiberias where my son lives with his wife and small children, so I’m on the move a lot.
“When the war started, my son was called up at once for reserve duty. I wasn’t worried about my grandchildren and daughter-in-law because they had moved in with her parents, and so when I heard that there were soldiers in the north who needed lodging and meals, I offered them one of my guest houses. There are six or seven of them staying in it now. I’m glad to contribute what I can. I know many B’nei Menashe in Migdal HaEmek, Tiberias, and Tzfat who are donating small sums to the war effort even though they are hard-pressed for money. When I’m approached, I’m happy to give.
Bnei Menashe boys supporting the IDF, somewhere in the north.
Rivka Lunkhel, 51, from Kiryat Arba, outside Hebron:
Rivka Lunkhel.
“Ever since the war began, the women in our B’nei Menashe community been trying to give all the help we can to our sons, brothers, and husbands who have been called up. Things haven’t been as well-organized as they might have been, but we’ve managed to contribute, mostly sending personal items like soap, shampoo, toothbrushes, tooth paste, toilet papers, and so on that aren’t issued by the army. Some of us contributed the actual items and some gave money.
“That’s been one part. But we women have another weapon of our own: our prayers. I’ve been involved in two WhatsApp groups, one consisting of 400 B’nei Menashe and the other of Israeli women in general. We coordinate things so that from the time we wake in the morning until we go to bed at night, there isn’t a moment when one us isn’t praying for our soldiers or reciting Psalms. Everyone takes her turn for five or ten minutes, and when it’s ended, she sends out a message and someone else takes over. There have been days on which we were able to recite all 150 psalms from beginning to end – and on top of that, we have to work, cook, and look after our families. We’ll keep it up as long as necessary.
“I should also say that I’m one of the few B’nei Menashe mothers to have a daughter in the army, in fact, two. The older one Yael has been called up for reserve and our second youngest, Shirel, is serving. She’s always been doted on by us, and on that fateful Sabbath she was patrolling the perimeter of Gaza with her platoon. When they were attacked by Hamas, they took cover in their personnel carriers and called for reinforcements. There was a firefight in which three of Shirel’s fellow soldiers were injured, two boys and a girl, and a vehicle was destroyed.
“The fighting lasted 12 hours, but they stood their ground heroically and in the end the attackers were driven off and a helicopter evacuated the wounded. When things like that happen, there’s nothing you can do but pray and and leave the rest to God. I have faith He’ll look after Shirel.”.
Some of the material support collected for the soldiers.
(October 26, 2023) Last week, our Newsletter reported the injury on the Lebanese border of a B’nei Menashe soldier, Natanel Touthang, whose wounds were described as “light.” This week, when we visited Natanel in Rambam Hospital in Haifa, we were made to realize that “light” is a relative term. With partial sight in his left eye and none at all in his right eye, both damaged by debris and shrapnel from a shell that struck the army position he was in, he was awaiting an operation that would, it was hoped, restore the right eye’s vision. Yet his spirits were high, and ours, too, were raised by his story.
One of four children, Natanel, now 27, was born into a B’nei Menashe family and grew up in Phailen, a neighborhood of Lamka, formerly known as Churachandpur. His father, a civil servant in the government department of agriculture, put great stress on his children’s education, and Natanel, after finishing high school, attended Churachandpur College, from which he received a B.A. degree in political science. By the time the family was offered the chance to make Aliyah in 2018, Natanel’s father had passed away, his older brother had died in a swimming accident, and his two sisters had married and lost interest in living in Israel. “It was just my mother and me,” he told us. After a stay in an absorption center, the two were sent to live in the town of Bet She’an, near the Jordanian border south of Tiberias, where they still live
By now Natanel was 23-years-old, slightly above the cut-off age for army conscription. But although he found a job as a lab technician, he didn’t stop trying to join the IDF. “I kept thinking,” he says, “what was the point of coming to Israel if I couldn’t serve my country?” In the end, the army agreed to induct him for a two-year period of service rather than the usual three. “I was disappointed,” he told us, “but it was definitely better than nothing.” After his basic training, he was posted to an infantry battalion, with which he served until his discharge. His fellow soldiers nicknamed him ‘Nun-Tet,’ the initials of his name that also stand in Hebrew for neged tankim, “against tanks,” that is, an anti-tank missile. “I put those initials on everything,” he says. “My gun, my kitbag, all over.” Little did he realize how ironic this was to be.
A year ago, in September 2022, when he was discharged from the army, Natanel returned to Bet-She’an, now an army reservist, and went back to work. Soon afterward, he married his wife Yehudit. “Bet-She’an is a quiet little town,” he says. “The day of October 7, we didn’t know what was happening because our phones were switched off on account of Shabbat. I only heard of the horrible things going on in the south when Shabbat was over. Even then I wasn’t aware of the full extent of it.”
Natanel went to work the next day as usual. “That’s when I realized how serious things were. Everyone was talking about it; war had been declared by the prime minister. All I could think of was of joining my reserve unit. When I found out evening that some of my friends in Beit She’an had been called up, I phoned my commanding officer and asked why I hadn’t been. He told me that whoever was needed was being called and that I should stay home and wait.
“I wasn’t going to take that for an answer. I insisted he tell me where my unit was assembling and he did. The next day I reported for duty. I was issued my uniform and gear, but though I was hoping we would go to Gaza, we were sent to the north, to the border with Hizbollah.”
Gun emplacements in Israel's north.
Natanel’s unit was positioned on the slopes of Mount Hermon, scant meters away from the Lebanese border. The spot was isolated, in rough terrain, with a commanding view of the area. He was assigned to a pillbox, with a narrow slit to look through and fire a gun from, protected in front by a rampart of earth and with a door in the rear, Equipped with their rifles, a machine gun, and binoculars, he stood guard with a partner. Their job was to keep the area under surveillance and report any signs of enemy activity.
The first days were quiet. The only shooting in them that Natanel remembers was one evening when he watched Hizbollah missiles being fired in the distance toward Metula. A little before 5 p.m. on Wednesday, October 18, he and his partner relieved the pair of soldiers on duty before them. They checked their equipment and Natanel’s partner began to scan their right-hand field of vision through the binoculars. “I was to the left of him and further back,” said Netanel. “Suddenly, without taking his eyes off the binoculars, he screamed my name. He hadn’t reached its last syllable when something hit the rampart just below the firing slit with a huge explosion. The blast threw me against the concrete wall at the back of the pillbox and I fell to the floor. I’m not sure if I blacked out or not, but everything was black when I opened my eyes. I couldn't see a thing.
Natanel, second from the right, recuperating at Rambam Hospital, with his wife, Yehudit(second from the left) visited by Degel Menashe's executive director, Yitzhak Thangjom(extreme right) and his wife Jessica (extreme left).
“The first thing I did was run my hands over my body and touch every part of it to make sure it was still there. I suppose it's human instinct to make sure you are whole in situations like these. I heard my partner firing the machine gun while I tried to drag myself to the door. Soon medics arrived and gave me first aid. I still couldn’t see, My right arm was hit, too, and my eyes were bleeding, I could feel the medics trying to clean them. Then I was on a stretcher and in a helicopter taking me to the hospital. I remember thinking: what a shame! It’s the first helicopter ride of my life and I can’t even see and enjoy it!”
The greater irony, though, was what wounded Natanel. It was an anti-tank missile, a Nun-Tet shell! “Talk of a bullet having your name on it!” he smiled from his hospital bed.
Natanel’s arm is already healing and he has regained some of the vision in his left eye but still can’t see with the right one. “Let's hope for the best,” he answered when asked what he would do if the planned operation did not succeed. “I’ll live with whatever happens without weeping and wailing over it. I’m not a self-pitying type. God’s will has to be accepted. He does His best and expects us to do ours. The army is looking after me very well. I have a private room and my wife stays with me all the time. There are doctors, nurses, and social workers looking after all my needs. I did what I had to do for my country. I’m fine.”
