When Elisheva As-Kurlender , 13, thinks about her future, she thinks about Beit Hillel, the moshav in northern Israel where she was raised. But for now, her present is 30 miles south, in Almagor—the moshav her family relocated to following October 7.
On October 7, 2023, As-Kurlender ’s family evacuated their northern home. After brief stays with family friends, they settled in Almagor.
“The first night in Almagor was a complex experience because on one hand, I felt sadness—suddenly not being home became real—and on the other hand, there was a sense of togetherness, that we care for each other,” As-Kurlender said. “To make my room in Almagor feel like home, I brought two dolls, collages, trophies I won in basketball, and a shelf. But there are things that cannot be replicated: in our home, we have one green wall and one highlighter yellow wall, and I had my own room with my own closet that I don’t have to share with my sister and my mom.”
Their hosts on the moshav have been welcoming, adding them to all the necessary WhatsApp groups, but the adjustment is not easy. “It’s hotter in Almagor than in Beit Hillel, and there are cockroaches,” As-Kurlender said. “Once, I was washing my hair in the sink, and a cockroach jumped on me.”
As-Kurlender’s list of things she misses from back home is extensive: “the stream next to the moshav; the fact that family is close and I can ride my bike to them, not that we are far away and need to drive to them; the community that knows everything, for better and for worse.” “Mostly, I miss my bed,” she said. “Since we left Beit Hillel, I have been through four beds. The difficulty of this longing is that I don’t know when it will end. When will I return home?”
The desire to return home isn’t just a wish for As-Kurlender—it’s something she’s willing to fight for. The eighth-grade student has an impressive collection of signs from protests she participated in, with slogans such as “My house is burning and one cares,” “Why are you at home, and I’m not?” “No one cares about us,” and "This isn’t a miracle, it’s neglect.”
Until recently, As-Kurlender said, she planned to be a psychologist. “But if reality doesn’t change, I will be a politician,” she said.
On May 23, the day As-Kurlender turned 13, she participated in a protest of displaced families at Amiad Intersection. “I wonder how I can celebrate when the war is still going on, or when the hostages are still in Gaza, or when I have been out of my home for 230 days,” she said, addressing the crowd. “I want to shout the shout of my generation: three [classes a day] is not school! Hiding under the table does not provide safety! Our wish is to return to our home, to the familiar landscape, to our communities. The Ministry of Education and the government do not care that our generation in the north has no future. But we know we have no other place.”
That speech and one from another protest were published in Israeli news sites, and As-Kurlender also opened an Instagram page to share her thoughts.
Leaving her house has also meant starting a new school. Students and teachers at her new Kibbutz Ginosar elementary school have been very welcoming, As-Kurlender said. “It felt like the school staff was trained to accept evacuated students, and I have many friends in my class,” she noted.
She manages to maintain friendships with friends from home who were also evacuated at the same time as she makes new friends. “The friends I find it hard to keep in touch with are those who live in conflict-line settlements that haven't been evacuated,” she said. “They don’t leave home because they are living in a war.”
As-Kurlender and her new school friends are already planning potential costumes for Purim, which will take place in March. “I ask them to plan two: one with me and one without me,” she said. “I explain to them that I love them and want to dress up with them, but I want to be in my home more.”
Besides her work as an activist and a student, As-Kurlender dedicates her days to basketball, hiking, and activities in the Bnei Hamoshavim youth movement.
Returning home from basketball practice with her father one day, a song with the words “to return home” came on the radio. “I got home and broke down in tears,” As-Kurlender said.
As-Kurlender’s grandparents own Kurlender Farm, a large dairy farm and visitor center in Beit Hillel. They didn’t evacuate, choosing to stay to take care of the farm.
“We have a family tradition that every Shavuot holiday, all the grandchildren come to the moshav to help Grandpa and Grandma make cheese for the whole moshav. This year, it didn’t happen, and it’s sad,” As-Kurlender said.
Some of her family members who evacuated from Beit Hillel have already returned home.
“My uncles and three of my cousins have returned,” As-Kurlender said. “My uncle is on reserve duty and is intermittently in the emergency response unit. Of course, it stresses me that they are there.”
In Beit Hillel, she noted, residents hear the explosion of rocket fire before they hear the siren warning them to seek shelter. “I understand that the decision to return makes them feel good, and I respect that. But I don’t want us to return yet,” she said. “Even the day after, it will be hard to go back. How can you know it won’t happen again?”
Before October 7, As-Kurlender had anxiety about the potential of a terrorist infiltration, which she discussed with her therapist. “As soon as the war started, I knew how to use all the tools I learned from my wonderful psychologist even before the war,” she said. “I think I’ve learned to take things in proportion. My sister and I share a room now, which we didn’t before, and we sometimes fight, sometimes even not talking. So what? We both know that we’ll make up in the end.”
For As-Kurlender, the future is still uncertain. But some things are clear. No matter what, she says, upon graduating from eighth grade, she will start ninth grade back home at Einot Yarden secondary school.
