Paying Respects – Part 2

Live From the War in Israel - Day 424

October 7th will always be remembered for the collective trauma it has caused Jews all over the world, but there were a few stories that bring hope for the future.

After we left the Car Cemetery (last post), we met with Atir, who was at the Nova festival. I had actually heard his story before on the news. Atir started running with three friends towards their car when the shooting started. As they were running, they bumped into a policeman who had been shot multiple times. He told them they needed to go east. The terrorists were waiting on the road.

He and his friends ran into the fields. He showed us where. There was not a lot of cover. They met some other survivors, and they were now 10 in all, looking for some shelter. After more than five hours, they saw what looked like a farm in the distance. They had to chance it because several of them were starting to pass out due to dehydration. One of the group volunteered to see who, if anyone, was there. They came upon a man named Yunis and several of his workers from Thailand. They seemed oblivious to what was happening. They asked for help, and he agreed. They heard his Arabic accent but, at this point, had no choice.

Yunis fed them and gave them water. They were able to charge their phones and believed they had made it. Suddenly, Yunis came running in, saying, “They are here.”

Yunis told them they needed to hide, and he went to confront the terrorists. As they ran out of the building they were in, they saw a crawl space and went under it. I would not have made it due to my “heft.” Although they were in grave danger, they stayed completely still.

Meanwhile, the terrorists told Yunis that they knew he was hiding Jews and demanded he give them up. Yunis insisted that he knew nothing about any Jews. The terrorists started to get belligerent, but Yunis held his ground. He said he was a Muslim and had six children. He was not looking for any trouble and had no Jews.

Miraculously, they left. Had they gone into the building, they would have seen food for 10 people.

Atir and the others had no idea what was happening. None of them spoke Arabic. Yunis started to call out to them that it was okay, but they did not know what to believe. Perhaps Yunis had given them up.

One of the people under the house was texting his brother about what was going on. His brother was able to find the owner of the farm, who told him Yunis was fine. The owner called Yunis to tell him where the survivors were. Yunis said he had already figured it out. He had seen a bottle of water sticking out of the bottom of the building.

Luckily, Hamas did not see it.

My children once asked (one of them, at least) why didn’t anyone help my parents in Poland. I explained that if the Poles were caught helping Jews, they would not only kill all the Jews but everyone in the house. I told them that if someone was rounding up all the blue people and a family of blue people came to my house asking for help, I am not sure I could do it knowing that if I got caught, my family would be killed as well.

Luckly for Atir, and the rest of them, Yunis was a lot braver than I would have been.

I asked Yunis if he had experienced any negative backlash from his community for saving the Jews. He looked stunned by the question.

“Why would I?” he asked.

He explained the he was an Israeli Arab, a Bedouin from the city of Rahat. Many of his family members have served in the Israeli army. He understood the risks, but the Bedouins are known for their hospitality. If you come to them for help, they don’t think twice—they help.

Our last stop was the scene of the Nova festival. It is a memorial for the over 360 young adults who were killed that day. Many individual signs told the stories of those who were murdered.

I read many of them.

Besides the beautiful things that were said, the pictures showed some of the most beautiful faces I had ever seen. Normally, I would not notice or mention it, but it was uncanny.

Although I did not know any of them, the sense of loss was overwhelming. Most of them were the same age as my children.

Such young, beautiful people with their whole lives ahead of them—brutally murdered by animals who did not think twice. Their plans and dreams gone forever

As I was leaving, I read a quote on the memorial of Ben Benzion Hasid, who was 23 when he was killed. I do not think it was his quote, but it reminded me how and why I live here:
“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass… It is learning how to dance in the rain.”

I do believe that one day the storm will pass. Meanwhile, I am trying to dance.

It isn’t easy