Two months after the Hamas attack which left 62 dead in this kibbutz near Gaza, survivors gathered on the occasion of the Jewish festival of light. But the hope of a return remains fragile.
Suddenly the light goes out. The amphitheater of Shefayim, a town located north of Tel Aviv, holds its breath. A door slams and dozens of children burst into the room, singing and waving glowing bracelets onto the stage. Above them stands a hanukkia, the traditional Jewish nine-branched candlestick, with two lit candles. In the stands, dozens of families evacuated from the Kibbutz of Kfar Aza, where 62 people were killed by Hamas terrorists, came to celebrate, Thursday, December 7, the first day of the Jewish holiday of Hanukkah.
“There are families for whom there will be no light today”breathes Yossi Biton, a former resident of this collectivist agricultural village located three kilometers from the Gaza Strip. “On October 7, we stayed in our shelter for 22 hours”he remembers alongside his wife and son. “The army came to pick us up in the middle of the night. We were still in our pajamas. They put us on a bus and evacuated us.” Like most of his neighbors in the community, this pizza chef ended up here, in another kibbutz, that of Shefayim, which looks like a seaside vacation village.
:quality(50)/2023/12/08/2j7a0225-6573330a40387393229978.jpg)
Despite the greenery and the children’s games, the atmosphere is heavy. “We have one room for the whole family”, explains Yossi Biton. The self-service food is also not worth the chef’s homemade specialties that he scrolls through on his cell phone. “It’s not a normal life here”mutters the forty-year-old. “The children cannot go to school, we were only able to collect a few clothes after a month of waiting…”
“We have become one and the same kibbutz”
In the stands of the amphitheater, the children’s activities awakened long-buried smiles. “We welcomed the residents of Kfar Aza with open arms,” assures one of the members of the Shefayim community, holding his daughter in his arms. “Now we have become one kibbutz.” But entire families are missing. “Many parents, friends of the children were murdered, there were also friends of my daughter who were taken hostage”says Yossi Biton’s wife, a pin “Bring them home” (“Bring Them Home”) on his jacket.
“Make some noise to show we haven’t forgotten the hostages!”, says Ilanit Suissa, microphone in hand, standing on the stage. Thunderous applause shook the room. “We absolutely must preserve our traditions like Hanukkah, it’s part of us”explains this former resident of the Kfar Aza kibbutz. “We are like the phoenix, we will be reborn from our ashes.”
“Even if in our hearts we remain stuck on October 7, we must find the strength to move towards the light. The light must chase away the shadow.”
Ilanit Suissa, former resident of the Kfar Aza kibbutzat franceinfo
This activist, long committed to the left and to peace with the Palestinians, is today disoriented. “There is a break, I no longer know what to believe in”she blurted out from behind her large black glasses. “What happened has shattered all hopes for peace”, estimates his companion, Hezi Botser. The man, tall and slender, weighs each word before speaking. “We are lost. So many people are missing…” He lets out one last sentence, like a new effort. “It’s very hard.”
:quality(50)/2023/12/08/2j7a0231-65733417c9c90716232670.jpg)
The festive decoration and the bright lanterns placed in the large kibbutz park do nothing. The daily difficulties of these displaced families quickly take over. “We only have a mini-fridge in our room, with all of my husband’s diabetes medications.”continues Ilanit Suissa, before the tears suddenly well up. “One night my daughter was hungry and I had nothing to feed her.”
“I don’t think we’ll ever go home.”
On this Hanukkah evening, whole crates of oil donuts were placed on the tables. The children rush over, even if it means spilling sugar everywhere. “They manage to preserve a joy of living here and allow adults to hold on”, smiles Ilanit Suissa. One of them was born only three weeks ago. In a blue and white sleeping bag, Nir is clinging to his mother’s shoulder. “I’m having a hard time feeling the spirituality of the holiday this year”breathes Narkis, his eyes tired. “I lost all sense of time.” Alongside him, his parents, also evacuated from Kfar Aza, try to recreate a semblance of family life in these large impersonal rooms.
:quality(50)/2023/12/08/2j7a0274-657333c362456149160493.jpg)
Will they one day find their homes, their neighborhoods, their village near Gaza? Nir’s mother only gives a hint of a resigned smile in response. “I don’t think we’ll ever go home.”says Hezi Botser. “How can we be sure we’re safe out there again?”asks Yossi Biton.
Inside the amphitheater, religious songs gave way to a video of the children of Kfar Aza, filmed in the park of their adopted kibbutz. With ice cream in hand, each of them shares their secret to getting through this dark time. “To chase away the shadows? Well, just turn on the light”says a little boy in front of an audience who, for a moment, found a smile again.
Comments translated by Yaelle Krief.