Exactly one year ago, Hamas terrorists raged in Kibbutz Kfar Aza and massacred dozens of residents. Only very few survivors return to the place where terror is still omnipresent. Others ask themselves: Is life ever possible here again?
On a sunny day, Liora Eilon stood at Kibbutz Kfar Aza, the site where her son was killed. She picked up a figurine from the belongings scattered around a since-uninhabited house nearby. “Every time we come here, Tal leaves us a little message,” said the 71-year-old as she turned the small plastic soldier in her hands.
A year ago, Hamas extremists stormed the kibbutz and killed Tal Eilon, the 46-year-old commander of the civil defense unit. Liora Eilon now lives in a university dormitory in northern Israel. She wonders whether she will ever fully return to this place, which went down in Israeli history when terrorists murdered around 1,200 people in Israel and kidnapped around 250 more as hostages. The attack triggered the Gaza war, which has so far killed more than 41,600 Palestinians in the Gaza Strip, according to the Hamas-controlled Ministry of Health.
Around 50 of the former 1,000 residents of Kfar Aza have returned. They live among houses burned and reduced to rubble by explosions. The remaining survivors are scattered across the country. They reported fears of future attacks, concerns about the Israeli army, the government and Palestinians in the Gaza Strip. Some wondered whether it would ever be possible to live in such a place again. “Are we going to live in a memorial? Are we going to see a plaque every few meters saying he was killed here and he was killed here?” asked 58-year-old Sohar Schpack. “It’s still October 7th.”
The traces of that day are still present a year later. Gardener Rafael Friedman still finds teeth and bones in the soil of Kfar Aza. They are believed to be the remains of extremists who were killed in fighting. There has always been a strong sense of community in Kfar Aza. Images of young people being killed are shared all over the internet. The government says it wants to rebuild the place. In the meantime, she is building prefabricated houses in another kibbutz nearby, where two-thirds of the residents want to leave.
Some said they were unsure whether they would ever feel safe in Kfar Aza again. First, they want to know why it took so long for the military to respond to the Hamas attack. An investigation is underway, but the Army has not yet released results. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has brushed aside calls to take responsibility for what happened before the war ends.
“It’s still October 7th”
Simona Steinbrecher feels as if time has stood still. There is no need to think about making decisions. Her daughter Doron is among 66 Israelis still in captivity. Hamas is believed to be in possession of the bodies of 35 others. The 65-year-old last saw Doron in a Hamas propaganda video. “Without Doron, it’s still October 7th,” she said. “And we won’t go home until she gets home.”
Many residents of Kfar Aza want to boycott the government’s memorial ceremony this Monday. They have their own little event where the kibbutz flag is flown at half-mast. They say they admire the soldiers who fought that day but are angry at the higher-ups who they blame for a command structure that collapsed when the kibbutz needed them most.
Eilon is overcome with anger and astonishment as she remembers the 35 hours of horror her family endured. When the sirens sounded that Saturday morning, Eilon thought it would be minutes before the military arrived. But it took hours.
The family barricaded themselves in their shelter. A son and daughter pressed the door shut as armed attackers tried to get inside. Her granddaughters Gali and Mika hid under the bed. Eilon received a message that her son Tal had gone out to fight.
They heard the screams
The five of them crouched in the shelter, heard the screams of the attackers and shots, and didn’t know whether Tal was dead or alive. Israeli soldiers eventually gained control of their home. But the family was still not evacuated. It was only on Sunday afternoon, when extremists were once again hiding in the house, that the army took them out.
As she ran, Eilon saw a tank pointing its cannon at her house. He fired. And the building collapsed, burying the extremists under the rubble. Shortly after her rescue, Eilon learned of her son’s death. “I knew it all along,” she said. “But part of me hoped he was hurt, that he was lying unconscious in a hospital.”
As the battle raged, some residents sped away in military jeeps. Hanan Dann remembered seeing soldiers outside the kibbutz who looked as if they were waiting for orders. “I wanted to say that there is still fighting going on inside, that people are dying there,” she said. “They could have saved her.”
Days of fighting
Soldiers and extremists fought for days in Kfar Aza. In the end, the attackers killed 64 civilians and 22 soldiers and kidnapped 19 hostages into the Gaza Strip.
Nearby stands a dilapidated water tower commemorating Be’erot Yitzhak, a kibbutz left behind after a deadly Egyptian attack in 1948, in the war that broke out just hours after Israel’s creation was declared. “Is this what Kfar Aza will look like in ten years?” asked Dann. “Just a stop on the highway that I can point out to my kids?”
Even those who want to return know that Kfar Aza will never be the same place again. Schpack said he understands why no one would want to bring a child here. “How do you explain what happened here?”
For some, the fate of the kibbutz is tied to Gaza. As long as there is no peace agreement with the Palestinians, they believe, they will be attacked again. Eilon wants a new government that talks to the Palestinians to “find a settlement so that we can live together on the same land.” “I dream of the day with an open fence from here to the sea, with two peoples living together.”