We next drove to the town of Ofakim which suffered a terrorist infiltration. It is a city of about 35,000 residents and only 12 miles west of Beersheva. That’s how far East the terrorists penetrated. Established for immigrants in the 1950s, it went through a boom of industrial and construction work followed by a bust as the textile mills moved out of Israel. It was a poor and depressed area but recently there has been an economic revival and things have been taking a turn for the brighter. It is a working-class town. Think rust belt with sand. As we drove east from Mitzpe I remember thinking, how on earth did the terrorists get this far into Israel? The country is still searching for answers.
After a brief lunch in town with several residents who were connected in various ways to MetroWest through the Partnership program, we had a chance to go into the active command center of the city and meet its dynamic mayor, Itzik Danino.
GMW Mission group in the Ofakim situation room with mayor Iztik Danino and Ofakim community leaders.
Mayor Danino greeted us warmly and, like so many others, shared that he felt strengthened just by our visit. Just showing up at this time meant so much to everyone we met. Several people we encountered could simply not believe it. “Be’emet? Really? You came from America for two days here? Wow!” was something we heard over and over again. A direct quote from an Erez resident, “It gives us a lot of strength to see you here.”
Mayor Danino spoke about the war against Hamas as a war on multiple fronts and echoed something we would hear from others as well. “Israel is in a war. You are also in a war.” Israelis all understand that as much as they are the immediate physical targets for now, this is a worldwide attack on Jews. Israelis watching the news know that we are facing pro-Hamas protests by tens of thousands who chant for jihad on our once quiet streets. Posters and flags of kidnapped babies are being ripped down. Our college kids are being trapped by mobs in libraries and on campuses. The supporters of Hamas are waging, and often winning, a media and a propaganda war. There are no real borders here.
I know we are all worried about our brothers and sisters in Israel. I can also state unequivocally that they are worried about us.
The entrance to the Ofakim “Division of Security and Public Order.” (L-R) Rabbi Pinchas Shapiro, Sarah Diamond from GMW and Rabbi Erin Glazer, Rabbi Dan Cohen, Rabbi Matt Gewirtz.
On October 7th the infiltrators came into Ofakim but were stopped by the police force and contained to a smaller area through incredible heroism and bravery. Although 44 residents were tragically killed, the outnumbered and outgunned police were able to battle against a foe they neither trained for nor were equipped to fight. They limited the slaughter. The complete story is recounted here in the New York Times.
Roni Abuharon’s wife, Shiran, at a memorial to her husband near the site where he was killed. (Sergey Ponomarev/The New York Times)
A small group of us were privileged to be welcomed into the home of Cochy Abuharon, the older sister of fallen police officer, Roni Abuharon. Shiran, his widow, and his children were also there. Cochy welcomed each of us into her home with a warm hug as if we were long lost friends. Sitting in Cochy’s living room with platters of fruits and nuts, we heard stories about Roni’s heroic death at the age of 39, but also about his life, hobbies and passions. There was palpable grief but there was also pride in his heroic efforts to fulfill his sworn duty to protect and preserve life. Shiran recounted her agonizing hours calling and texting Roni and getting no answer. During the attack she hid in the ma’amad (safe room) with her children armed with nothing but a kitchen knife. The house was shaking from the explosives and RPGs all around them. When she finally came out after hours of hiding and got the news that Roni was gone, she started stabbing the fence with the knife until someone took it from her hands. There are no words but she was heartfelt about our visit. “It means a lot to see people outside of Israel coming to see us in difficult times. It means a lot to us.”
At Cochy’s house, being awake for some thirty hours straight was starting to take a toll. I was fading. When Cochy offered us some coffee I took her up on her offer. We went into the kitchen where I saw some Taster’s Choice on her shelf. In case you didn’t know, Israel runs on instant, not brewed, coffee. “I grew up on that stuff!” I said. “Do you have milk and sugar?” Sure, she said, taking some milk out of the refrigerator. There was only a tiny bit left in the carton. Out of instinct, I opened the carton and raised the opening to my nose to make sure the milk hadn’t turned. Instantly I hoped I hadn’t caused offense. “I’m so sorry!” I said.“I’m a mom and that’s just my instinct on milk!” Cochy took it in stride and said laughingly, “Don’t worry about it! I feel very comfortable with you.” And I thought, that’s it. Thirty minutes ago I had never met Cochy and now we were having coffee in her kitchen like old friends. That’s Israel right now. There’s a feeling of achdut or unity. There’s a feeling of familiarity and friendship with strangers, much like our spirit here after 9/11 for those who remember.
After the shiva visits we made a visit to a local community center that has been turned into a place for R&R for active soldiers. At any time there are between 50-150 soldiers coming in for food, showers and to call home. Many are far from family. They come to rest in between being sent on missions to Gaza, many of which are at night. With some 300,000 reservists called up so quickly, there is no way for the army to build enough mobile bases the way the U.S. Army does. It’s simply not feasible. The community has to step in. There are 60 battalions around Ofakim and the grassroots volunteers supply and bring the soldiers whatever they need. As one volunteer said, “Whatever they need we are there.” Again, this is all being done at the local level.
Mattress covered the floor and some soldiers were racked out. Others sat playing Settlers of Cattan, a board game. The windows were covered with thank you cards and messages of support. We got to work making Israeli salad for dinner. I peeled some cucumbers and cut up tomatoes. “Smaller pieces!” was the command. We did our best though it was probably the worst looking Israeli salad they’ll get.
Hatikvah on top sign. Large sign: “The path of youth strengthens the security troops.” Below, “The people of Israel live” Smaller sign to right. “We are strong.”
The respite center floor covered with mattresses.
Messages of support for the soldiers from children.
We met with Shai Hajaj, mayor of the Merchavim Regional Council. He was confident but realistic. “We will win,” he said. “And we will develop this area of the Negev. We will grow a million residents because we don’t have an alternative. We have no other state.” He called our visit, “a light in the darkness,” and stressed the need for the connections between Greater MetroWest and Ofakim. “The connection to community warms our hearts. It’s not about money. The soldiers feel strengthened.”
They seemed to. As we walked into the respite center one Israeli soldier shouted out to our arriving group, “God bless you! God bless America!” We represented not only our Jewish community, but the hope and might of America as well.
(Dov Ben-Shimon (L) with Mayor Shai Hajaj
The psychological effects of the attacks are profound in Ofakim. Everyone is terrified and now they know it can be them. Some people are afraid to to leave the house. Some are not sending their children to the gan. While it used to be a small percentage of the population who suffered psychologically from the rockets, according to local leaders, now it is everyone. But there is also incredible bravery and resilience. There is grit and determination to move forward despite the exhaustion and the fear.
From Ofakim we made our way up to Jerusalem for a dinner with Gil Hoffman, executive director of Honest Reporting.
We had a half an hour to freshen up before dinner at 8 PM. The hotel was the loveliest I have ever stayed in even if it was for one night. By the time my head hit the pillow, I had been awake for 36 hours.