As a resident of Lod, the conflict between my mission as a journalist and my desire to live in peace in my own city, generated an impossible dissonance
The disruptions by people fearlessly throwing stones and firecrackers at policemen, destroying anything they can get their hands while expressing support for the Muslim riots on Har Habayis, and shouting “with spirit and blood we will redeem Al Aksa” made my heart skip a beat. I drove to the city’s main avenues and discovered that they had been blocked by garbage dumpsters and pieces of wood, which were all aflame.
Right near the police station in Ramat Eshkol neighborhood, a fire had been set, and the flag was replaced with a PA flag. The fire caught on to parked cars; others looked like they had been ransacked and destroyed. In fact, every symbol of Israeli authority had been destroyed: Police stations, the city hall and schools. The pre-military academy in Ramat Eshkol was set on fire. Students evacuating the building rescued the sifrei Torah and emerged unscathed. And where were the police? For many hours, they were nowhere to be seen. Neither were the fire fighters.
At the corner of Chashmonaim and Tizporen streets, dozens of Arabs blocked the road, set garbage cans on fire and hurled stones at buildings where the Torani community members live. The Jewish residents faced off with the rioters, whose faces were covered. The latter threw stones and Molotov cocktails. The former displayed impressive restraint. They stood there, waiting. No one wanted to clash with the Arab rioters. Another phone call to the police, but zero. Not a single security service member arrived.
“I’d never been so afraid,” says Yoel Frankenburg, a resident of the city. The word afraid and fear repeats itself over and over, in every conversation with the Jewish residents of the mixed cities who have found themselves defending themselves and their families. And still, the police failed to arrive.
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