We arrived at the Kalisher Absorption Center, similar in function to the isolated ones I had been to in the north, except this one was right in the middle of an impoverished, dismal residential neighborhood of Beer Sheva.
Our first speaker was a very articulate Israeli representative of the center who assured us that 90% of the residents of the absorption center were employed, and that they are currently working to help the newly arrived immigrants to acclimate to Israeli society (likely thanks to their central location within one of Israel's largest cities).
The piece that stuck with me the most was when she explained that the average Ethiopian man, who had just arrived from Ethiopia within the past two years, was used to being the primary breadwinner, to coming home to a doting wife and kids who washed his feet. And now, in the progressive atmosphere of Israel, this same man comes home from a long day of work, and is asked to take out the trash. This simple example can explain much about the fundamental differences between Ethiopian culture and the very modern, fast-paced life in Israel, which can be frustrating and indeed inhibiting to a people who so wanted to step foot in the Promised Land.
After this not-so-brief introduction to the difficulties of adjusting to Israeli society (and therefore the necessity for absorption centers around the country), the representative introduced an Ethiopian student who made aliyah just two years ago with her family, who now speaks near-fluent Hebrew and is one of the top students of science in the nation. This girl, no doubt the poster child for the absorption center, is a testament to the potential of Ethiopian immigrants if given the tools to succeed.
Placing Ethiopian immigrants in jobs requiring mindless labor or in impoverished neighborhoods ridden with youths-at-risk is only asking them to fail. Granted, no group of people should be subject to generalizations, for better or for worse, but these people must be given a chance to succeed. Those who were airlifted to Israel during Operation Solomon 17 years ago, and Operation Moses seven years before that, have integrated into Israeli society, and many have incredible stories of success to tell. Is it possible that the Israel of today is so different from that of 17 years ago? I find that hard to believe.
After hearing from a few different speakers, our group was led to small classrooms at the center where we would be teaching Ethiopian kids to make kites. The fact that none of us actually knew how to make a kite seemed irrelevant, as we were handed little kits and paired up with the kids - who seemed just as confused as we were. However, after a few introductions in simple Hebrew, everyone was busy gluing on colorful strips of paper to make the tail and tying the strings in all the right places. Next thing I knew, my partner was already running the street, kite flying high behind him.
I was actually really impressed at how much excitement could be felt over something so basic as flying a kite - but the kids were SO thrilled to run around on the neighboring lot and get their strings all tangled up. The overall experience, similar to the one I had at the absorption center in Beit Alpha, was really confusing. We weren't reeeeally doing anything to help their situation, we weren't speeding up the time it would take for their parents to find independent housing or jobs suited to their skills, but those kids could not have been more excited that we were there. The process of absorption might take time and patience, but there is no way that any of those children will let their family's journey be in vain. These kids are so bright, and bring so much optimism to even the most desolate Beer Sheva neighborhood.
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