Bring Back Our Girls – when good whatssapps go bad

Bring Back Our Girls – when good whatssapps go bad

The delicate flowers of the 2014 Kfar Group left for Israel earlier this week. The program is a 10-week one where 16-year-old girls and boys have the opportunity to study at an Israeli school, tour the country and gain leadership skills. The petals might even be given a chance to visit a mall or two while the boys play volleyball or talk about the army. The girls will study in the Lod area and the boys at a local yeshiva in the Gush region, but any details as to male’s progress will remain scant, along with their communication and their personal hygiene.

Having been blessed with 4 boys and a daughter who is blessedly pre pubescent, I watched with horror what this dangerous specie is capable of, knowing that we have one who is on the cusp of this potentially deadly metamorphosis. Girls are not nice people and I am petrified as to what life still has planned for us over the next few years. I am not certain that we are equipped adequately to deal with it. We are told that we dealt only what we can handle, but I just hope He knows what He is doing.

And girls have moms. And moms have Whatssapp groups. And Whatssapp group might be the plague of the decade. It might even be said that such groups have ruined more lives than have been decimated by Ebola, which is currently ravaging the north west of the continent.

It always seems like a good idea at the time – imagine the convenience of a grade 4 Mom’s Group, a Swimming Group, a Ballet Group, an Art Group and a We Hate Peta-Lee Shapiro group. It’s a way to share info, improve communication and to make sure that (God forbid) no ball is ever dropped and that no one need miss out on, well anything. The problem with these groups is there is simply no depth to which they won’t stoop. The inane, the boring, the pointless and stupid are all shared along with the important, the wise and the valuable. They sit alongside each other making ignoring the group as impossible as following it.

So on the Kfar group we spent 2 days talking about mobile contracts in Israel (important, even though most the info was incorrect), and washing bags. Washing bags. Bags to put washing in. I have learned more about this subject from the  group than I know about almost anything else and I was blown away by the options. I practically have my doctorate in this. The parents of 2014 can write books, host TV shows and do motivational talks on this fascinating subject. I kid you not. And routes to the airport? I happen to be a Lifetime Platinum on SAA given the amount of flying I do, but I was shocked, really shocked at the options that exist for us in terms of routing. Aki Anastasiou, the 702 traffic bloke would have done well to be on the group in order to get live updates on the journey from Glenhazel to the airport, this journey rarely having been undertaken before. Pioneers, real pioneers.

And then they left and I assumed that the Kfar Group would go the way of my Soccer World Cup one, but I was wrong. Of course we never heard from the boys again but the petals’ moms it seemed were just getting started. The past few months was the warm up and now they were in full-flight. They had hit their stride and there was simply no stopping them.

And then there was a terrorist attack in Jerusalm. And no one had given thought to the fact this is a reality in Israel. And no one had told the moms. And this was simply not ok. And they became angry. Really angry. On the Whatsapp group. That’s where they got angry. And anxious and outraged. And everyone but the terrorist was blamed. They demanded justice and retribution. Their young were being threatened and they went into fight mode. Sadly, flight didn’t seem to be an option. And so they fought for their flowers, not realizing that this specie, borne of their loins, could stop Isis in its tracks and have Hamas head for the hills. These are no fading violets and they have been trained by the best.

Some tried to restore order. And they kind of managed. And right now it’s all quiet on the group as we wait for the next outbreak. When my phone signals a message I grab it in eager anticipation, because really, anything can happen, absolutely anything. And I wouldn’t miss it for the world.


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