No Racism! Or Integration without assimilation

My student neighbours are big supporters of #NoPegida. What can I say, I was student too and I also had idealistic dreams of living in a tolerant and free world. My student neighbours claim that the World should be Bunt (colourful). I agree with them. I have always believed that every man has a right to live wherever he wants to and that is why I live here too. Because this is the place where I feel comfortable.

This means, that I should make others feel comfortable too, especially people who this land belong to. As they received me, accepted me and let me live here and have benefits, so I have to respect it.
I have to respect this country, its people, its culture, its religion and try to integrate.

I am not going to discuss, who is right or wrong. I won't say who's enemy and who's not, because it is just politics. I hate politics, politicians and provocative mass media. 
I don't like caricaturists, because if they mocked Islam yesterday, they will mock Jews tomorrow; and they have done it many times in the near past, you can google the Dreyfus case and see.

Although it doesn't mean, if somebody mocks your religion, you go and blow them up. Only insecure people do that. If you are a true believer and you are sure that nobody can harm your faith, no stupid media can abuse your sacraments, you will just feel pity about those G-dless people and walk away.
Or not.
Better educate yourself and your nation, take care of your country, care more about your people and nourish them instead of sending them to death.

I mentioned integration above. We had a talk about integration with my friends of different faith, and we all came to conclusion that integration does not mean assimilation. We should be faithful to our religion, don't forget the language, traditions, avoid intermarriages, but not shove all this on other people.

It is Europe after all with its own traditions whether we like it or not.

I wish there was peace and everyone lived happily and securely in its home country, because nobody would've left its home for a strange land...

Tanks in Tears

By Meir Levin (Translation: Shaul Gorgel)

Our girl school had an outing on the Golan Hights. That way The Israeli Ministry of Education had decided to make "Russian" children over into one hundred percent Israelis. Me and my wife travelled together with the school. Well experienced tour guides were called into action, complete with university degrees and broad smiles. Specially fitted tour programme that included motion pictures was meant to spark off some patriotic sentiment. So the trip was over, what was told there safely forgotten, but one story remains in my memory. It haunts me no less than the account of Metzudah defenders. Because I have returned to Israel, not just came here.

War crashes into our lives and homes in an unnoticeable kind of way and always at a wrong time. All of a sudden it turns out that someone didn't have the time to write up a letter to his mother. That a bride expects over her groom in a six hours time as he hopes finally to get a long awaited "yes".

Soldiers were asleep, as young men could be following excruciating military exercises. Yom Kippur, The Day of Atonement got in, a festival of fasting that brings together almost all of the Jews. There's even a sad joke, "Yom Kippur Jews". Anyways, the boys were fast asleep. Because their commanders kept saying to them that if the enemy dares to... we'll... And that the border is well guarded. And that "The Gardian of Israel doesn't sleep, nor does He drowse". Strong and reliable is battle-tried Israeli military.

The war tore up the quietude of the festival. Syrian tanks rolled into The Valley of Tears. The most advanced at the time T-55 tanks, complete with night vision gear. The latest of Soviet military hardware was always tested in real combat conditions. So the volley was set ablaze.

Khani really meant to say yes to her Beni. It's just that she wanted to lead him on a little more. She'd hate herself for that for many years to come. But in vain.

The fighting over the volley has been on for 2 days now. Less and less tanks respond to the vehicle in command. Communications with the head quarters are out. However, one thing is for sure, the reinforcement is coming. It can't be otherwise. The squad commander, Yig'al Baum receives the same response all over again to all his check-ins: "No ammunition. We're pulling back, back, back".

How difficult it is to take responsibility for someone else's life. The boys haven't lived it up yet. Some don't even know the taste of the first kiss. But what's there to do? The Syrians can't be let past - whatever the price. There comes through a unique order in the history of warfare: "All tanks follow me. The enemy doesn't realise we're disarmed".

But war is no game. You can't just bluff - lives are at stake. Ten tanks started slowly going uphill. Without firing, simply burning away the remaining fuel.

Unrestrained valour sometimes frightens more than the most heavy shelling there is. The Syrians suddenly began to retreat. By the time they figured out that the unfiring tanks aren't some kind of secret Israeli military ploy, the reinforcement moved in.

There are a lot of flowers in the Golan Hights. The flowers grown in the Volley of Tears will never wither. For the memory of the fallen soldiers cannot disappear. So forever will blossom the flowers on the ground drenched with our blood and tears.