FROM OUR CORRESPONDENT
TEL AVIV – “They killed them twice,” say the families of three young men who died under “friendly fire” from Israeli soldiers in the rubble of northern Gaza, just when they thought they were one step away from the end of their lives Calvary. “The first time we knew nothing about them in the massacre carried out by Hamas on October 7th, and now in mocking the Gaza trap.”
First, let's talk about 24-year-old Samer al Talalka, because Hamas's victims included some Bedouins from the Negev. Samer was one of the group of Bedouins who performed military service, often in the corps used as scouts. He was working at Kibbutz Nir Am when the jihadists captured him and took him away with his hands tied. In those hectic hours of massacre, a little thing was enough to get killed, and he probably remained silent. We don't know if he ever said he was a Muslim while in prison. He was supposed to get married next summer. Yesterday afternoon, Father Lofti addressed the small crowd of her extended tribe during his funeral at the Skati Cemetery, located at the gates of the Negev Desert, a few dozen kilometers from the Gaza border. “I blame both Israel and Hamas. “Before this grave, I tell you that the army should work for the immediate release of all hostages and learn lessons from what happened to my son and his companions,” he said. His mother was not present: upon hearing the news of his death, she collapsed and was hospitalized.
Yotam Haim was 28 years old and the family remembers the last time they heard his voice on the phone was in the early morning of October 7th. “Mom, everything here is on fire,” she whispered, horrified, to her mother Iris from her home in Kfar Aza. His hobby was being a drummer in his music band Persephore. That evening they were scheduled to perform at a metal concert in Tel Aviv. He had everything on his mind except that he might be attacked by the jihadist fury of Hamas. Instead, he wrote a message: “The terrorists are standing here on the doorstep.” Then silence: alive, dead?
For many families, it was the agony of uncertainty and slow-motion news. Hospitals gradually named the bodies, but his name never arrived. “They were days of hell. On October 15th we finally learned that Yoram had been kidnapped. A few days later, a friend sent us his picture when they took him to Gaza. He looked clean, no blood. Then we realized he could survive. From that moment on, we and his mother hoped to see him again, we thought and acted positively,” said his father Raviv.
The time of waiting has begun. Then the purgatory of the last week of November, when Israel exchanged Palestinian prisoners every day with those in the hands of Hamas. But Yotam was never there. He didn't arrive. Raviv's story continues: “We had recently received new information, they told us that he is doing well, although he suffers from chronic inflammation of the spine and requires medication.” He needs an injection every month. The funeral for him was also yesterday afternoon.
Alon Shmariz, 26, returned from a long trip in South America a year ago, as many Israelis do after three years of military service. He had settled into his home in Kfar Aza and was about to enroll in the Faculty of Engineering. A family member wrote about him: “There was light at the end of the 70 days of darkness with Hamas, but suddenly the darkness returned.” At the Maccabi Tel Aviv football club, of which he was a supporter, they had a candle for him and his brother Ido set on fire, who in turn was immediately killed by Hamas during the raid. Yesterday the candle was extinguished while its photos were brandished as slogans at the large demonstration in the city center to persuade the government to resume negotiations with Hamas for the release of all hostages.