Friday noon, in the Jaffa neighborhood in south Tel Aviv, police stand near the clock tower. Further on, vendors, cigarettes in hand, line the sidewalks of the neighborhood, while Arabs and Jews compete at backgammon. The neighborhood has resumed its air of normality. A few hours earlier, this is where the manhunt for the perpetrator of Thursday night’s attack in downtown Tel Aviv ended.
Amit Ifrah, 23, was not to witness the scene that ended the search. The young man, from a Moroccan Jewish family, usually lives about fifteen kilometers north of Tel Aviv, but his aunt, who lived just above the Ifrah family’s restaurant in the heart of Jaffa, has just died . Following tradition, for seven days, the family welcomes anyone who comes to offer their condolences.
Following the event of the day before, the content is however singular. The Yoav brothers, Israel and Ilhan Ifrah shake hands, take sips of soft drink, one of arak, between bites of dates and pastries. This afternoon, for each new person who enters the restaurant, condolences can be heard, then, quickly, we evoke the subject that is on everyone’s lips. ” Did you hear ? », « Did you wake up? “, ” Nope ! Have you seen it all? For real ? “.
In this country where the working weeks start on Sunday, Thursday evenings are particularly lively in the coastal city. Shortly before 9 p.m. on Thursday, Raad Hazem, a 28-year-old Palestinian from Jenin in the West Bank, chose to point his gun at the Ilka bar on popular Dizengoff Street, killing three men aged between 27 and 35 and killing around ten wounded, before fleeing.
With this fourth attack in two weeks, which brings the number of victims to fourteen since March 22, the wave of terrorist attacks that the Jewish state is experiencing these days is the deadliest in the country since 2006.
Raad Hazem was the son of a former Palestinian Authority security service officer. On Friday morning, Fathi Hazem spoke to a crowd gathered in Jenin. “Your eyes will soon see victory. You will get your freedom,” the father said, asking God to “liberate Al-Aqsa Mosque from the desecration of the occupiers.” The Al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigades, armed militias of Fatah, which claim Hazem was affiliated with them, as well as Hamas and Islamic Jihad, also welcomed the attack, saying it was “a natural response to the crimes of the occupation against the Palestinian people”. For his part, Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas condemned for a second time “the killing of Palestinian and Israeli civilians […] during the holy month of Ramadan and the next Christian and Jewish holidays.
The month of Ramadan is often a critical time for Israeli-Palestinian relations, as Israelis and Palestinians take part in various celebrations. Last year, a series of clashes during the month of Ramadan resulted in eleven days of bombardments between Hamas, in the Gaza Strip, and the Israeli army.
Manhunt in Tel Aviv
On Thursday evening, following the attack, more than a thousand law enforcement personnel were deployed. Police, military and special forces searched a large security perimeter, building by building, to find the shooter.
For nearly nine hours, the search continued, then extended to other areas of the city. In the early morning, further south, in the heart of the Jaffa district, Amit was talking on the phone. “There was the call to Muslim prayer, then around 5:20 a.m., we heard gunshots,” says the young man. The family apartment is next to the Mahmoudiya mosque, where Raad Hazem was eventually spotted.
From his experience in the Israeli army, Amit immediately knew what was happening. “I went to the terrace. We saw everything. The soldiers, the police were running, says the young man. They yelled at the shooter to stop and then put your hands up in the air,” which the suspect allegedly did while near the nearby restaurant. Amit’s finger grazes the hole that a stray bullet has made in the window of the building. On the other side, the shards of glass still lie on the floor of the restaurant.
“They then yelled at the man to drop his gun,” continues Amit. He took it to pretend he was going to drop it, but he started shooting and tried to run away at the top,” he explains, pointing to an old, abandoned soap factory. , where the shooter allegedly intended to evade law enforcement. “This is where he was killed, just in front,” says Amit. “The terrorist…”, adds his uncle Meir.
” We are used to “
At the Ifrah family’s restaurant, a mixture of Hebrew, Arabic and French is spoken to each other. This is Jaffa, a Jewish, Muslim and Christian coexistence where about a third of the neighborhood’s population is Arab.
“It’s unfortunate,” sighs the aunt of the Ifrah brothers in perfect French. Aunt Miriam, as all her family members call her, immigrated to Israel from Morocco more than 60 years ago. “It’s unfortunate, it’s too much, but we’re also used to it,” said the old lady in a completely resolute tone. Moreover, for us, the attacks no longer mean anything”.
The day after the attack, on Friday, thousands of people went to Dizengoff Street to lay flowers, lanterns, to pray, to sing, but above all, to be together. In Tel Aviv, from the wee hours of the morning, the cafes were filled again. In the afternoon, people gathered on the terraces as usual, while joyful songs made the walls of the city’s synagogues vibrate.
The Israeli singer Idan Raichel was performing the day before in concert a few hundred meters from the site of the attack. After being informed of the news, the singer returned to the stage to settle down quietly on his stool and speak in a serene voice. “Every morning in the land of Israel is a good morning and every evening in the land of Israel is also a good evening,” said the artist. No terrorist will decide for us what a good night is”. The show continued.