This post is coming to you much earlier than I could have ever anticipated, from the mind of a girl I never knew existed. Two days ago, I decided to end Marva. I know it was only four days into the program, but my reasons are far from minor complaints about physical strain or frustration with orders. Two days ago I shot a gun for the first time after 18 years of promising myself I would never touch any version of the destructive object. Nevertheless, at 3pm, I found myself lying on the ground aiming an M-16 at a Arab soldier cutout. I don't think I've ever been more terrified of myself. We had 15 bullets to fire at the cutouts' heads. At the ominous order of "Esh!" ("fire!") I pulled the trigger. The first bullet rocketed through the air and hit the cutout on the neck. At that moment, my world changed. I didn't know what I was doing anymore, I couldn't see, couldn't think. All I knew was that I wanted the rest of the magazine out of the gun as quickly as possible. I fired aimlessly not caring where the rest of the bullets fell as fast as I could, then dropped the weapon. When I looked down, I could see my elbows nestled in a pile of shells, each staring at me, reminding me that what left them, left to take a human life. Under my earphones, I could hear the blurry orders of the Mefakedet Mem-Mem telling us to sit up and leave the shooting range. My friend told me to get up when I didn't stir, and I walked mindlessly out of the building and into the desert of Sde Boker. At the sound of the next group of shooters, I broke. Tears fell for 8 hours after that. Tears for the impact of what I had done, tears for what would have happened had the soldiers been real, tears for hypocrisy of me wearing an army uniform, tears for the promise I had broken. My Mefakedet carried my M-16 back to the base, as I couldn't keep from wanting to hurl at the sight of it. I knew I could never finish Marva after that. I could keep up physically, I could follow orders, I could deal with the food and the lack of sleep, but I would never feel comfortable morally on a military base ever again. Reading this, I realize these feelings may sound overly dramatic to many, but from my perspective, I don't see how they could possibly be any less insane than the excited cheers from many of my Tzevet (unit) members as they happily fired away in ecstasy. Who could ever be happy with the idea of using a machine whose only purpose of use and invention is to take lives?
That said, I am now back in Arad with an entirely new understanding of myself and about how hard it must be to be an Israeli my age. While I was waiting to go home, I talked with a Mefakedet (commander) about why I was choosing to leave. She told me she was the exact same way when she entered the army, but in her case, she didn't have the option to leave (for those who don't know, military service in Israel is mandatory). She told me that when she received her gun, and had to sleep with it under her pillow, she cried almost every night. Having been a "hippie" as she called it, the idea of serving in an army was unthinkable. The difference between us? As time went on, she realized that without the IDF (Israeli Defense Forces), there would be no Israel, which would be unthinkable considering what history has done to the Jewish people. For a moment, I paused and thought that maybe I was making the wrong decision by leaving. I knew she was right, after all. Israel would crumble within days if the entire army disappeared, and while in a dangerous situation, the arms of the Israeli army are only used to protect, never to act offensively. Then I realized, however, that there were other ways to serve this beautiful country I love so much. While the IDF is undeniably important to Israel's survival, so are volunteers! Teachers, doctors, everyday people also make Israel what it is and they keep it thriving. Not everyone is suited for the army, and that's okay because if everyone had the same personality, the world would be a miserable place. On the other hand, if everyone had the same personality, there might be no need for war...hmm... At any rate, I'm okay with being different and understanding myself well enough to know that it's not worth it for me to sacrifice my morals to complete a program I'm not enthusiastic about (even though I had previously convinced myself that I was).
Even though I was only there for four days, Marva taught me so much about myself and about Israel. I know I probably could have learned more, but I also feel that by being back in Arad, I can contribute to Israeli society in an even bigger way by bettering one of its most important developing cities. My homesickness is dissipating, I made the right decision, and I am more determined and motivated than ever. YES!
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