Where Israeli soldiers go to heal

Childhood in Israel is short.

The golden days of adolescence that North Americans celebrate - the fun, the dates, the new freedoms - barely exist. By 18, most Israelis are struggling through basic army training, then shouldering a gun in a bitter conflict with Palestinians that, after two years, shows no sign of slowing - but is increasingly leaving its mark on those who fight it.

Reserve officer and social worker Omri Frish is trying to help young army veterans who are, as he puts it, "completely fried, totally indifferent, and without a grasp of reality." In March 2001 he started Kfar Izun, or "Balance Village," to help restore them to emotional and psychological equilibrium.

The response, particularly from parents seeking help for their children, has been overwhelming. "We've received over 900 [calls] from parents with terrible stories," Mr. Frish told the Israeli paper Ma'ariv. These days, he tells the Monitor, "we're trying to rent more buildings. More and more people are trying to come, but we don't have the space."

With funding also limited, a maximum of 24 patients at a time can stay for up to four months at the two- to three-acre compound, where clusters of bungalows border a white-sand beach and the lapis-blue Mediterranean.

As a fat puppy trips over himself to join in, a small group of patients sways through the motions of a judo practice, part of their treatment.

Sixty percent of the patients here are male. Former soldiers talk about having to kill, watching comrades die, and the fear of their own deaths. Those who didn't deal with death firsthand speak of encounters with Palestinians.

"We'd go into houses. We'd see children and old people crying. We shot their televisions. At first you don't pity, you do the job. But when you sit at home later, you begin to understand that you've done things that have hurt you emotionally," one patient told Ma'ariv.

A female patient named Jade huddles in a chair, hidden under a hat and a hooded, pumpkin-colored sweatshirt. "You meet [Palestinian] people just like us," she says. "It can be traumatic."

As Jade speaks, she slowly pulls off her hat and peels away the layers of insulation. Birdlike in a tank top and pants, she has sheared her brown hair close to the scalp. Soldiers sometimes pay a heavy emotional price for violent encounters with civilians, she says. "When they look in the mirror after it's over, they say 'What did I do? What have I done?' "

Thirty counselors work with the patients, who have been evaluated at a Tel Aviv psychiatric institute. The young veterans garden, drum, and draw as part of their therapy, which also includes more conventional forms of healing.

"The idea is to help people develop an inner control, to give the patients the responsibility and power to heal themselves," says Frish, who hopes to expand using donations from private citizens and the government. Treatment costs just over $2,000 a month. Sponsors cover about $600, families must make up the rest.

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