Tag Archives: ISIS

Life is like a box of dynamite

26 Mar

Last week a group of Israelis toured the streets and promenades of Istanbul.  It was part of a culinary trip to explore the flavors of the wonderful Turkish cuisine.

Israeli tourists in Istanbul before the terrorists' attack

Israeli tourists in Istanbul before the terrorists’ attack

While they dined at a restaurant, an ISIS (Daesh) suicide-bomber detonated his explosives belt killing three and wounding scores more. The festive outing had turned into a disaster.  Within hours Israel sent its own doctors and transport airplanes to bring everyone home.  This is one more story of Islamist terrorism against Jews.  What’s absurd is that one of the killed, Avi Goldman, was a tour guide in Jerusalem.  He survived the daily attacks of Arabs against Jews in his own city, yet had to travel to Turkey to meet his death.

Forrest Gump had it all wrong.  Life is not like a box of chocolate.

Islamist suicide-bombers in Brussels

Islamist suicide-bombers in Brussels

It used to be that if you kept out of trouble, trouble would not find you.  Islamists terrorists changed all that after 9/11.  We’re sitting ducks.  Anywhere we go, San Bernardino in California, Paris, Istanbul, Tel-Aviv, we can have our heads blown off or be stabbed to death.  There are no Swedes, Frenchmen, Englishmen, Italians pulling anchor from their homelands and going on a killing spree in Afghanistan, Iraq, or Syria.  It’s an Islamist thing.  Even those Muslims who’d lived in Europe for two or three generations produce sleeper-cell terrorists.  It’s assimilation gone wild.  I feel sorry for all the law-abiding peaceful Muslims who just want to get by in life, find a decent job, raise a decent family, build a decent home.  Yet many indecent, violent, hell-bent Islamist fundamentalists are ruining it for their own people and their own religion.  But you can’t talk sense into them.  They’re sick in the head.

Victims of the suicide-bombing in Brussels

Victims of the suicide-bombing in Brussels

What’s most terrifying is that these Islamists terrorists can strike at any moment, anywhere, in capital cities and sleepy villages.  Ten days ago my twin teenage daughters flew to Bergen-Belsen, Germany as part of a worldwide delegation to explore and learn about the Nazi atrocities in the concentration camp (more on the subject on a future post).  They flew from Israel to Frankfurt, and from there to Hanover, and from there to Bergen-Belsen.

Then the ISIS terrorists struck Brussels, Belgium.  Thirty-four innocent people were killed at the airport and subway.  My wife and I panicked.  That same week they were to return to Israel with a connecting flight through…Brussels.  While in Germany the local media had learned of my daughters’ involvement in the Bergen-Belsen project.  They wanted to interview them for TV and radio and take their account of their Germany visit.  The reporters asked their Israeli adult escort for permission to interview.  Their woman escort and former teacher called Jerusalem for instructions.  Jerusalem called back.  “Do not let them talk to anyone!”  Why expose them to would-be attackers, they said.  Toward the end, the reporters and Israeli security reached a compromise.  My daughters spoke of their experiences in Germany and the story could be told only after they’d left the country.

My daughters in Bergen-Belsen this week

My daughters in Bergen-Belsen this week

They traveled to Germany to learn of the horrors committed in the camp more than 70 years ago, only to learn that the horrors continue to haunt us today. Luckily they took a flight back through Munich instead, and arrived safely early this morning.

The families from the Istanbul attack are grieving. Brussels, known for its Belgian chocolate, is now known for dynamite and bombs.

Forrest Gump, your mama was wrong.  We know exactly what we’re going to get.


Maurice Labi is an Israeli-American who lived in Los Angeles for many years. In 2011 He returned to Northern Israel (Galilee) with his wife and twin teenage daughters. He is of two lands, of two cultures and he blogs about his experiences in Israel, particularly from Galilee where Jews and Arabs dwelled for centuries.

He has also written three novels: “Jupiter’s Stone,” “Into the Night,” and “American Moth” — available at Amazon.com


or at BN.com








Playing Arab Roulette

14 Nov

In the last couple of weeks Arab terrorism ventured beyond Israel.  A Russian plane exploded over the Sinai Peninsula.  All 227 passengers died.  ISIS, the Islamic State terrorist group, is suspected of this horrific, cowardly attack.  ISIS accuses Russia for attacking its forces in Syria.

Russian plane explodes over Sinai

Russian plane explodes over Sinai

Last night, in Paris, more than 120 Frenchmen were killed in six coordinated attacks.  The eight gunmen are believed to be ISIS operatives.  They’re taking aim at the French for their involvement in Syria. What’s most terrifying is not so much what has happened but “Who’s Next?”  This not-knowing is at the heart of terrorism. Terrorists alter our lives irrevocably.  Stepping out our front door becomes a matter of life and death.

Terrorist attack outside Parisian soccer stadium

Terrorist attack outside Parisian soccer stadium

I bring up these sad examples to illustrate what the typical Israeli has to endure in the last two months since the recent Arab uprising.  Daily Israelis are stabbed to death, run over at a bus stop by a mad terrorist, their cars struck with rocks.  In the first few days, Israelis went into shock.  Shopping malls remained empty.  Buses rolled half-empty across city streets.  People look over their shoulder for would-be killers.  Every Arab-looking man or woman is a suspect.  Israel’s security forces are instructed to shoot and kill.  Soldiers and security personnel could easily disarm a knife-carrying man or woman by wounding and disabling them.  But the order are clear: shoot to kill.  I agree.  The shoot-to-kill policy is two-fold: 1. deter any Arab from launching at attack knowing he will not come out alive.  2. Calm the Israeli public.  I doubt many Israelis want a wounded terrorist to be tended to in an Israeli hospital by Israeli doctors (that has often happened), and then brought to trial, jailed, then released in a swap.

Living in Galilee, I encounter Israeli-Arabs daily.  They’re everywhere; they stock the shelves at the supermarket, cut and slice beef at the butcher’s section; they’re gas station attendants, mechanics, day laborers, vendors at falafel stands, and pharmacists behind the counter.  This proximity is what’s terrifying.  To be constantly on the alert, to be vigilant does a number on the nerves.  It’s Arab roulette.  Who can you trust?  We living amidst them and them living amidst us  is not like walking on egg-shells but walking on land-mines.  What will explode next?

A game of chance with life

A game of chance with life

If Israeli-Jews are jittery and scared, Arab-Israelis are terrified.  Recently I took in my car for service at a Toyota dealership in Nazareth, an Arab town.  For years, the service manager greeted me kindly. Service was superb.  Against my better judgment, I decided not to cave in to fear and “give peace a chance.” Arriving at the dealership, I found it empty.  All the lifts were idle, not one car was being serviced. Phones were mute, as if their cords had been cut dead.  After we warmed up to one another, the Arab manager said between s series of nervous cigarette puffs: “Yesterday, I was terrified.  Yesterday, I drove my SUV into a Jewish town and came to a stop at the light.  Jews in the car next to me eyed me. I thought I was having a heart attack.  I thought they were going to lynch me.”  When I prodded him some more, he said Arabs are panic-stricken. They stay home.  They venture out only when necessary, fearing a reprisal from Jews.  I return to my seat at the dealership and read the paper. Soon I’m offered coffee, baklava pastries, fruit, dates – compliments of the house.  I don’t even have to haggle over the invoice, as before.  This time the discount is offered with a smile, a nervous smile. Everyone’s on edge.  I drive home.  I don’t bother to stop at the nursery to pick up seasonal plants and flowers from the Arab owner. Why tempt fate?  I’m a casualty of fear.  And there are thousands and millions like me in Israel, in Russia, in France.

As for playing the roulette, even Vegas gives better odds.  Spin, baby, spin.