Of all the maps hanging in the Nir Oz war room, the map of the outline for the new construction is the most colorful. "Is this the future?" I ask Ron as he lays it out on the table. "That's the start," he replies, "that's where we start growing." Other maps hang around the walls of the room, the kind of room that even a small glance is enough to punch you in the stomach. On one of them, the kibbutz houses are marked with round stickers: red stickers marking murdered persons, blue for hostages, green for hostages who have returned home from Hamas' captivity. A scorching map, that tells without words of a peace that has dissipated; a pastoral balloon that has burst.
Another map details the future fate of the settlement's buildings in colorful markers: the burnt houses slated for demolition are marked in orange, those that are likely to be restored with minor renovations are marked in yellow, and the houses that require significant renovations are marked in blue. Two or three houses are marked light green – these are the ones that don't seem to require any work. Only seemingly. "Nir Oz's devastation is divided into two – physical and emotional," Ron explains. "With the exception of six houses, they [the terrorists] entered all homes, all of them were desecrated. There is no family that has not been affected by the attack. One hundred members, a quarter of the kibbutz's population, were kidnapped or murdered. We have to rebuild the kibbutz on two dimensions – the community's unity and physical construction."
Ron Bahat (57), married to Inbal and father of three daughters ("and a dog," he adds), was born in Nir Oz to Natan and Drora, founding members of the kibbutz. Two years ago, he returned with his family from an 11-year stint in the USA, where he headed an Israeli factory. His eldest daughter is now completing her bachelor's degree there, the other two and the dog have returned with them to the kibbutz. Until October 7th, Ron managed the Ackerstein production site, a company for construction products, in Yeruham. Since the massacre, he has found himself taking care of the kibbutz's growing needs and has become its rehabilitation project manager. "Moshe Paul from Kibbutz Hatzerim was enlisted to integrate both sides of the reconstruction – the technical and the community. I am in charge of the technical," he notes.
Some think that we can't come back to live here.
"Some people will come back, some people say they won't come back, and they will, and some say they won't come back, and really won't come back. The dominant motive is that people lack a sense of security, but I take for granted that there will be security here. The problem is that people suffered great trauma. Who wants to return to a home where people were murdered? For that reason, restoration will involve a lot of demolition and reconstruction. We will rebuild and it will be amazing here. Not everyone who was here will return to live here, but it will be better than people think. Once they see what we're doing here, they will want to be part of it. Ultimately, those who lived here, are connected to the place and love it. It's a connection that's hard to explain in words."
"Somebody should have been here"
A bottle of water and a rope – that's all what Ron managed to run and put in the safe room between the repeated red alerts, after he realized that terrorists had infiltrated the kibbutz. He tied the rope to the handle of the safe room door. He also attached a chest of drawers, to help him pull the door in case the terrorists tried to open it. Inbal was put on guard at the window. "We had never checked to see if it locked properly, and found out it didn't." The two young girls hid under the bed, and the dog lay quietly "without even a whimper." They used the towels as 'their bathroom,' and placed them behind the door, to block the smoke, in case the house caught fire.
"It was an unreal situation. We had electricity, the air conditioner was working, and every once in a while, a squad of terrorists broke into the house. They broke everything and struggled again to open the safe room door. It happened at least five times," Ron describes. In between, he received worried messages and phone calls, including from the director general of the Yeruham municipality, who asked for help blocking the road to the city. Ron contacted one of Ackerstein's employees and asked him to help move concrete blocks to the gates of Yeruham. When terrorists came to his home again, he left it all and went back to fight for his life and the lives of his family members. "We heard gunshots and shouts in Arabic all the time. Through the messages, we understood what was happening everywhere else in the kibbutz. One was begging for someone to come and help, and others asking to save their children. And I couldn't do anything. The security officer, Shahar Butler, was wounded, and his wife dragged him into the safe room. Shachar and one other are the only ones from the first response team who were not murdered or kidnapped."
After Be'eri and Kfar Aza, Nir Oz is one of the three communities where the terrorists hit the hardest. "These are the communities where they infiltrated. It's not a great honor to be on this list, but unfortunately, this is what it is. In the other two communities, the army eventually came and fought back, but not here. The terrorists finished doing what they did, masses of Gazans came and looted, and they all left before the army arrived. They took a lot more than they had anticipated."
At 13:45, the IDF began combing house after house and sending families to the war room. At 17:45, they came to the Bahat's house. Subsequently, the survivors of the massacre were split into two kindergarten buildings on the kibbutz. On Sunday at around 16:00, they boarded buses for Eilat, stopping at the Ramat Hanegev Regional Council on the way. Ron: "After debating whether to continue with the community or give up the nightmare of living in a hotel, we chose to get off the bus in Ramat Hanegev, and from there we went to Midreshet Sde Boker. We've been there ever since. Most of the community moved about a month ago into apartments in Carmei Gat."
Ron returned to the kibbutz the very next day. At night, he returns to Sde Boker. "Someone had to be there. DNA had to be extracted from homes to identify bodies, repair all sorts of damages, and get medications for friends – so naturally I came. For the first two days, I still had not digested what had happened. They collected bodies and data, trying to understand the magnitude of the attack – who was kidnapped, who was dead, who had been murdered between the kibbutz and the Gaza Strip." Ron gasps occasionally, takes a deep breath, and continues. "It was surreal. Missiles were still being fired, and there was no way of evacuating bodies because they had stolen or sabotaged all the tractors and vehicles. We improvised and used an old tractor and a club car that the terrorists tried, but failed, to steal. They are attached to carts and we took the bodies on these to the dining room, until refrigerated trucks arrived."
Ron and Arnon Lifshitz, another kibbutz member, were in charge of rehabilitating the site in the first few days – from repairing burst pipes to removing debris from the fire that raged for almost two continuous days. Two days after the massacre, the cowshed was reopened with the help of volunteers and under the command of kibbutz member, Amit Rubin. With the exception of a handful of workers, only the army stays here at night, but more and more members have been coming to maintain the farm. This week, the fields also came to life. Ron serves mainly, among other things, as acting security officer, and is the one who approves – and mostly does not approve – visits to the kibbutz.
"This is a dilemma that we have been debating with all the time," he shares. "It is important to tell what happened here. It is also important to show missions from around the world who Hamas is and the organization to which many countries donated. The 'freedom fighters' who murdered with terrible cruelty and satanism. Who did they donate to? To these rapists? To these butcher-killers? On the other hand, you can't invade people's privacy, or go into their homes. You also don't want to turn it into a show, free tickets to a performance."
Ron was convinced that someone from the kibbutz would soon take over and replace him ("after all, I came back from the US and re-joined Nir Oz as a resident, not as a member"), but it seems that the kibbutz members trusted his skills and he has proven himself. "As you are going along, you realize how important this place is to you, and how important it is to you that it comes back to life. You understand that this is a mission for you. I find myself as a combined acting chief of staff and undertaker." Ron, a rough kibbutznik, looks at me with smiling, but painful eyes, and describes how he and his friends dug graves for their friends. No, no need to apologize, he reassures. That is not what is going to break him.
We boarded a club car for a tour of Nir Oz's bleeding houses. Here and there you can still see a decorated sukkah, a souvenir from the world BCE. This is the house of Bracha Levinson, who was murdered, and the terrorists put a picture of her body live on her Facebook page. There is the house of the Bibas family [a couple with two young sons, aged 4 and 1, who are being held captive in Gaza]. This is the house of Bracha and David Shalev (75), a couple who knew how to enjoy life. She was on vacation in Egypt, he was murdered at home with his son Tal (54), who had come to visit. The house is completely burnt down. "This is where I realize I'm no longer looking for bodies, but for remains."
Ron points to one of the six houses that were somehow saved from the terrorists' evil touch. On the left, only a motorcycle was stolen. "The guy who lives here wasn't scared by the missiles, he's 'used to it.' Only when he heard the terrorists themselves did he condescend to enter the safe room. If they tried to break in, they would have discovered that there was no need to work hard, because he didn't even bother to lock the front door. That guy is my 86-year-old father." A couple was kidnapped from the house opposite, and children and a father from the one over there. This is where Ron's nanny lived when he was a child, and this is where his children's current nanny lives. Some have returned from captivity in Gaza, and some have not. "It's a kibbutz, a community you're connected to. There's not a single home you don't know, that you haven't visited." The student village of Kedma, on the outskirts of the community, was almost vacant during the holiday, and the five students who were there hid in safe rooms and survived while their homes were burned. In the Thai quarters opposite, an indescribable massacre took place: eleven of the workers were murdered right there, five were taken hostage, and only two have been released.
Decorations still hang on the ceiling of the Bahat family's living room, a tribute to the Sukkot holiday. "We were luckier than others, they didn't shoot at our door or burn down the house." He doesn't come here often, "it's not easy." The young and lively design of the safe room, which was one of his daughter's rooms in normal times, almost defies what happened here. The yard is full of creative and colorful pinwheels, and a statue of a horse on wheels stands in the backyard. This horse "came with us to all demonstrations against the Reform in Be'er Sheva. Each time we hung a different sign on it."
A few meters away, another colorful courtyard catches the eye, replete with artistic creations made from recycled materials. A sign pointing to Gush Katif hangs on the house. The house has been burnt down. "It was the home of Yochka and Oded Lifshitz; both were taken hostage to Gaza. Yochka has been released, but Oded is still being held there, as are about another 35 Nir Oz members." The house next door burned down so much that you can walk over it without noticing that a building once stood there and people lived inside. "This is where Amitai Ben-Zvi lives with his foreign worker, the wonderful Jimmy." When the terrorists broke into the house, Amitai shouted to Jimmy to run away and save himself, but Jimmy was kidnapped. When released, Jimmy told Amitai's children that before their father was murdered, he asked to tell them that he loved them.
In front of the house, which seems to have completely evaporated, is the gate through which most of the hostages were taken. From here, the Nir Oz fields extend right up to the Gaza Strip houses, some of which have since been demolished by the IDF. At the end of it all, I ask to go to the cemetery and lay a stone on the fresh graves. "Nir Oz planted plants before they built houses," Ron says with a smile, as we drive through the greenery surrounding the cemetery. "Ran Pauker, now 87, was the kibbutz's legendary gardener. He was the first to call me after the massacre, saying: 'I'm a pensioner and I'm in decent condition. When can I come and how can I help?' And he does come. He sprays. He deals with the greenery."
Among the new plots lies those of the Siman Tov family; parents and three children who were murdered together. Tamar ran for mayor of the Eshkol Regional Council. Grandmother Carol was murdered in another house. Aviv Atzili's grave is just behind them. He was the head of the local garage. "Everyone liked him. He was everyone's friend, and he fell in the battle, fighting for our home," Ron says. Two new graves were dug nearby, victims of a massacre who were not murdered on that day, but whose health deteriorated severely in its wake, and they died recently. "You have to remember that we also have kidnapped friends in Gaza, whose fate is unknown, and some of them might have been murdered," says Ron, hinting at the graves that are still going to be added here.
Only 1.6 km [1 mile] separates Nir Oz from the Gaza Strip. Seven seconds in terms of Code Red [emergency alert code of fired missiles]. "The first fall catches you on your way to the safe room, on the second you are already inside," Ron says. In Aviv's garage, photographs of the hostages who worked here hang on the refrigerator. Alongside them is a spectacular mosaic of many small photographs of Aviv, which together create a picture of Tzvi Atzili. They have started a new tradition in the large area outside the garage – "closing the week" with a get-together and a good meal. Ron plans to hold such a feast every Thursday, a community day once a month, and a book show once every two months.
When will you know that it is safe to return home?
"A sense of security is a feeling, and you can't argue with it. But four things need to happen in order for us to be able to say that it is safe here: First of all, that the IDF must be allowed to go into the Gaza Strip and do what it knows how to do – break down the infrastructure of Hamas. Second, an IDF base must be placed between Nir Oz and the Gaza Strip. Once we defended the country with our bodies, now the army must be the one standing between us and them. The same force that came to us on October 7th - about 130 Nukhba terrorists on vans and motorcycles, armed with machine guns, grenades, and automatic weapons – they probably would have entered an army base as well, and nothing would have been able to stop them. But I believe that the perception of security will change on all IDF bases.
"Third, we have to upgrade the first response teams and ensure that they have got the protective means they need. Perhaps we must also create a combined defense force with the IDF. That leads me to the fourth and most important point, and I emphasize: we are not going to bury ourselves protecting ourselves. There will be a fence and a first response team, but the concept must be active; offensive, and not defensive. Whoever approaches the fence is dealt with on the spot. There is no Bedouin camp, nor is there any Arab village, with a fence around it. Yet there is no theft there, because who would dare to steal from them? The culture and policy of inclusion must end. Several hundred Qassam missiles landed here in recent years, fields were burned by incendiary balloons, and there was no response. This cannot happen again. There must be a reaction to every little movement and, yes, it must be disproportionate."
Don't get me wrong, Bahat is still in favor of what he calls a "Gaza state." "Children, women, and the elderly were complicit in the looting, and whoever crossed the fence did not come to help us. As far as I'm concerned, whoever came seriously deserves a bullet in the head. But there were many who didn't cross the fence. Ultimately, there are two million people living there, and I don't want any of them on my conscience. I want them to live the best way they can. I want them to have something to lose. We have to make sure that the education there is different. At the same time, whoever embraces Hamas is considered an enemy. If someone comes to kill you, you stand up and kill them first. Up until now, we have said, 'It's okay, embrace Hamas, as long as you are not a Hamas member yourself, we will accept you. That's over. If there is general support for Hamas, we are not out to handpick who is Hamas and who is not."
A notice about a demonstration [against the Reform] on the evening of that terrible Saturday still hangs on Nir Oz's dining room wall. "Demonstrating in Be'er Sheva on Saturday, 7/10, at 19:15. The demonstration is without a march. Changes to the schedule are expected." Ron smiles: "We went every single Saturday night, but now that Aviv is gone, my best friend here is Amutsi, the only kibbutz member who has become religious and still lives here. He is strongly opposed to the demonstrations."
Ron's eyes suddenly light up when we return to discussing the rebuilding of the kibbutz. "My vision is 80-800: 80 percent of the kibbutz buildings must be demolished and rebuilt, at a cost of 800 million Shekels. I believe it can be done in two years; maybe a little more. It will be a national mission, but we can do it. And it will be bigger, stronger and more improved. We can't say 'better' when we are missing all the murdered victims, but we will be more ecologically aware, with a forward-thinking approach. We will build houses with low energy consumption and solar heating panels. We will prepare new and adapted construction plans. And yes, we will remain a kibbutz. Perhaps less cooperative than it was, and more open to those who want to be part of a moral lifestyle of mutual accountability, education, community and upgrading of sustainability."
How will you include the memory of the massacre victims within this project of restoration?
"The suggested range of remembrance and commemoration is vast – from 'we will not touch anything' to a purely digital commemoration. On a personal level, I am not prepared to live on a memorial site. Do you know when most people visited Auschwitz? During the Covid-19 pandemic. The digital visit brought crowds to visualization tours. On the other hand, something must be done. Israeli culture does not know how to preserve and maintain sites, so we need professionals who know how to do it right. As someone who was here on the day after the massacre – with the smells everywhere, and smoke rising, and all this blackness – I can tell you that even now the black is not the same black, and the smells have completely changed. Rain has fallen, and green covers what was here. That is the power of nature. Obviously, if we don't do it properly, in seven years there will be nothing here. We can decide that a certain number of houses must be left here for memory, but the rest must be built. It is very difficult and painful to say this, but Nir Oz was captured on October 7th. If the kibbutz doesn't rise again, it will be a victory for them. So, we will build, and we will make Nir Oz bigger and stronger and more improved so that the masses will want to come again and see it."
