Rachel Shazar, who turned 97 this Saturday, watched the attack by Hamas militants on the morning of October 7th from the window of her home. That morning, Kibbutz Beeri, which she founded in 1946, faced the most critical moment in its history. 10% of the 1,200 residents of this community, built three kilometers from Gaza, were direct victims, including deaths, abductions and disappearances. The survivors are currently discussing how best to get the kibbutz, which was considered one of the most stable in Israel, out of intensive care. But the massacre has multiplied its residents’ distrust not only of their Arab neighbors but also of the Israeli security forces themselves, which were supposed to protect them. They estimate that it will take no less than two years – some say up to five – to return to a place where the destruction today is significant and is also a military zone where the army has been in operation since the week of Ceasefire renews attacks on Gaza, killing more than 15,000 people.
“My five children are the future of Beeri,” says Shai Friedman, 45, born on this kibbutz and granddaughter of Rachel Shazar, one of the two founders, who is still living. But Friedman is one of those who currently has serious doubts about whether she will return home by October 7, when the current war began. “Whether I come back or not depends on how safe I feel. I don’t want to return in fear or pay any price. The war cannot be faked,” he asserts.
The woman lives amid a whirlwind of meetings and phone calls at the David Hotel in Ein Bokek on the shores of the Dead Sea, where Beeri residents have temporarily settled. There, firmly anchored in the spirit that sustains the community, they voted on what to do until they are welcomed into the expansion in the summer of 2024, which will be located in a similar kibbutz, the Hatzerim, at the gates of the kibbutz, The city of Beer Sheva is being prepared. and about thirty kilometers from Gaza. Most people have decided to stay in the hotel until then.
Body of one of the Hamas militants who attacked the Beeri Kibbutz on October 7. Luis de Vega
But far from being an idyllic vacation spot, the David is merely a temporary refuge where short-term hope for those freed during Gaza’s ceasefire days is matched by uncertainty for those still being kidnapped there. After almost two months, the hotel has become a stopover and a mandatory stop, where some people become more and more suffocated as the weeks go by.
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Hugo Wolaj, a 46-year-old high school teacher who survived the attack with his wife and three daughters, says he is looking for a house to rent for the remaining months before settling in Hatzerim. “I live on a roller coaster of emotions,” she says, admitting that her daughters prefer to stay in the hotel, where the family’s coexistence suffers. He speaks of a “broken life” between the two spaces they inhabit. His daughter Tamar, 15, lost six close friends; the second, Yael, 14, to her best friend Ido. “They both know that they won’t see her again, but we have to find a way to continue living,” defends the father.
Hugo Wolaj at the David Hotel on the shores of the Dead Sea, where members of the Kibbutz Beeri community have been temporarily housed since the October 7 attack. Luis de Vega
However, Wolaj holds on to the spirit and strength of Beeri as a lifeline that will enable the community to be rebuilt on the foundations on which this kibbutz was born in 1946. “There are people who want to leave, but I assure you this. There will be no place to accommodate everyone who wants to come,” he comments, referring to the movement that, in his opinion, is in response The largest attack Israel has suffered in its 75-year history. Wolaj defends the existence of two states and believes that Hamas members will make up no more than 2% or 3% of Gaza’s residents. On the other hand, he sees in the sympathies that the militiamen arouse a wall that is difficult to overcome, the fact that they have no resistance and that “anyone who dares to say something will be killed.”
“They don’t see me as a human being.”
What happened made him rethink his way of thinking. “I have always felt more like an Israeli than a Jew, but they (Hamas) don’t care if I am an atheist, they don’t see me as a human being, but as a Jew,” he emphasizes. “If my daughter is happy, I don’t care whether she marries a Catholic or a Muslim… although I don’t see it that way anymore,” he concludes.
Beeri is now a militarized place where, amidst a lot of rubble, the basics barely function, so death as a community is not final. This is the case with citrus or avocado crops. But especially with the main business. The printing company, founded in 1950, employs 400 people. It is known throughout Israel and is essential to maintaining the functioning of the country. This is where credit cards, driving licenses or official certificates come from. That’s why it got back on track just a week after the attack, even though director Ben Suchman had just lost his mother Tammy Suchman, one of Beeri’s most famous activists and Shai Friedman’s aunt. It is enough to inquire a little at the David Hotel to make sure that the blood trail of the October 7th carnage left no one in the dark.
Members of the NGO Zaka search for remains of victims in the rubble of a house in Beeri, one of the places attacked by Hamas on October 7. Luis de Vega
To this day, 1,200 people lived in Beeri. The list of dead today stands at 91. The latest announced to the community on Friday is Ofra Keidar, 70, who remained hostage in Gaza and whose body still lies there. During the week-long ceasefire that was broken on Friday, 18 kidnapped people were released from this kibbutz. Among the bodies piled up in morgues are a dozen that are still in Gaza or awaiting identification. Although he was not a resident, Spaniard Iván Illarramendi, whose body was identified on November 8, worked in Beeri’s kitchen. “I saw him every day. “A fantastic guy from Athletic Bilbao who I practiced Spanish with,” recalls Wolaj, who was born in Argentina and came to Israel as a teenager.
Among the 91 dead is Vivian Silver, one of the strongest, most active and best-known advocates of coexistence with the Palestinians. His charred body was found in his home, one of the houses burned during the Hamas attack in Beeri. “It will be difficult to return without Vivian and without Tammy…” predicts Hugo Wolaj. Both were part of a program called “Road to Recovery,” which enabled the transfer of Palestinians from Gaza and the West Bank to hospitals in Israel for treatment. “It will be very slow, but we will get there,” says Ada, 69, mother of Shai Friedman and sister of Tammy Suchman, as she helps prepare coffee and infusions at the David Hotel. “Beeri was a paradise,” says her husband Arnon, 72 years old and son of Rachel Shazar, the founder, nostalgically at her side.
Israel’s fundamental goal is to eliminate the political and military wing of Hamas. Wolaj goes further and insists that all means of financial support must be abolished, accounts closed and all international monetary transactions prevented. “We have to defend ourselves, return to Beeri, to the border. We have no other choice. “I want a quiet place for my daughters and grandchildren,” she longs. Like Shai Friedman for his five children and great-grandchildren of the founder, Hugo Wolaj strives to ensure that the generation of Beeri teenagers can maintain the community in the future without the shadow of a new October 7th.
An Israeli soldier at the entrance to Kibbutz Beeri, one of the sites attacked by Hamas militants on October 7. Luis de Vega
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