![]() |
| Agnes Samson Nagune Isharo lives at Israel's Ketziot Prison. Adam Reynolds/Special to The Christian Science Monitor |
Israelis extend mixed welcome to Sudanese
Israelis weigh concerns about their moral responsibility and the refugees' economic and demographic impact.
from the August 31, 2007 edition
Page 4 of 4
Now, her three children spend the days hanging around in the TV room, playing games and trying to pick up Hebrew. Next week, when school starts, the children must attend, regardless of their immigration status, according to Israeli law.
For those trying to help refugees negotiate such demands, the logistical problems can be significant. Avishai and Yolanda Pinchas live on Kibbutz Kadesh Barnea, so close to the Israel-Egypt border that they can see the flags of both countries flapping in the dry, dusty wind. They can also hear when Sudanese trying to flee to Israel are shot at by Egyptian forces.
It was after one such night of gunfire that the couple decided to open their home to refugees from Sudan, turning their farmland into a communal tent and playground, and the bed-and-breakfast bungalows they were building into housing for up to 50 refugees at time.
While many people backed them, others – like the head of the municipal council and some neighbors – were furious, and tried to get the Pinchases to clear the refugees out. The council head sent a bus one day, but Mr. Pinchas refused to put the refugees on it and dared the officials to drag them out. They didn't.
For now, it's become an accepted place for Sudanese to live. "Every few days, I get calls from groups or even the police saying, 'I have some Sudanese here, can you take some more?' " he says, sitting on his deck overlooking the desert and his farmland, where small Sudanese children skip in the afternoon sunshine. "There's no law to tell me how many people I can put on my property," he adds.
Suzanne Delba Akol is grateful for that. She and her husband have five children, and after three months of living in a Cairo park, they decided to get out. Originally from south Sudan, she lived in Khartoum and was jailed and beaten, she says, because she worked for a church and was accused of trying to convert Muslims.
On the way here, she says, all she could think of was getting her children across the border alive. "By that point, you don't feel much. The Egyptians were cursing at us from across the fence when they saw us go through.... We knew that even being in a jail here is better than life there," she says. "I don't think I have a future, but I want one for my kids," she says. "I'll go anywhere they want to send me. But not back to Sudan, and not back to Egypt."

















