Life has returned to a semblance of normalcy in Tel Aviv, Israel’s largest city and prime target of Iraqi Scud missiles — at least in the daylight hours.
As much as a third of the population fled to safer areas since the first missile struck during the early hours of Jan. 18, earning the epithets of “traitors and deserters” from Mayor Shlomo Lahat.
Many residents are returning to the city, but not because the mayor shamed them. Apparently, they ran out of cash or outlived the welcome of relatives or friends with whom they parked for the duration.
The exodus continues, however, and is most noticeable in the wealthier neighborhoods, whose residents presumably can afford the costs of travel and hotels.
In the early morning hours, mammoth traffic jams build up on the roads leading into the city, as those who fled the night before return to their jobs.
The local authorities are rushing to finish giant parking lots some miles beyond the city limits from where motorists could be bused into town. To ease the traffic chaos, the city will soon ban vehicles carrying fewer than three passengers plus the driver.
The situation is not good for business in this city of shops. Some do not bother to open for lack of customers. A neighborhood shoe store owner said she had made only one sale in two weeks.
Other enterprises and services find it hard to return to normal in the absence of Arab workers from the administered territories, who have been under strict curfew since the missile attacks began. Israel partially relaxed the curfew on Tuesday.
Meanwhile, evening rush hour has become an afternoon affair. Most offices, shops and factories close between 3 and 4 p.m. By 6 p.m., when darkness falls, Tel Aviv streets are deserted.
The civil defense authorities have banned public performances or any events at which people are likely to congregate.
There are no movies, no theatrical performances, no concerts. No restaurants or cafes, and very few bars are open.
At night, Tel Aviv residents are hunkered down at home with gas masks at the ready, prepared to rush into their a gas-proof room at the first sound of an air raid alert.
This is an emergency without blackouts. Missiles are blind, anyway, so there is no need to switch off the lamps. Street lights remain on, illuminating the empty pavement.
The Archive of the Jewish Telegraphic Agency includes articles published from 1923 to 2008. Archive stories reflect the journalistic standards and practices of the time they were published.
