Survivor Kibbutz Kfar Azza Ziv Stahl: I Was There. Indiscriminate Bombing of Gaza Is Not the Solution

הייתי שם. בכפר עזה, הקיבוץ שתמיד יהיה ביתי, גם אחרי שנות תל אביביות ארוכות. אתמול מוקדם בבוקר יצא ממני הטקסט הזה.

DC and Detroit 9.44am / Jerusalem - Gaza Strip - Tel Aviv 4.44pm / London 2.44pm [250 hours of war, still continue] BREAKING NEWS live update trilingual [hebrew - arabic - english] click here

TO MAKE SURE I’M NOT LIKE THE TIMES UK ABOUT MANIPULATING PHOTO IN FRONTPAGE, THIS IS PHOTO GAZA CHILDREN, NOT KFAR AZZA, AND I WRITE CAPSLOCK

I was there. I was visiting my beloved family in Kibbutz Kfar Azza, where I was born and raised, where my people live, my family, my classmates and friends, friends of my parents, members of the kibbutz, a tight-knit community.

I was in the safe room when we began to realize what was happening around us, and still we understood nothing. When my sister-in-law didn’t answer concerned messages, when the noise of gunshots and rockets surrounded that small room. When my niece arrived with her boyfriend, who was shot and injured while he held shut the door of the safe room in their apartment. They crossed the kibbutz courageously and arrived at her parents’ house – my sister – injured and shocked.

We were there, terrified for our lives, my sister, brother-in-law, their youngest daughter, their middle daughter, her boyfriend, and the dog. In the crowded safe room, with the injured lying on the rug, we tended to him with the few resources we had, and for hours no one came to save us.

Sitting in darkness trying to keep quiet (as much as it was possible with a young man suffering from terrible pain from two gunshots in his palms and two broken arms), so that the terrorists would think that no one was home. Absolutely helpless. Deathly fear.

I was there, and the smell of the battlefield that filled the lawns and sidewalks of my childhood remains in my nostrils still. The fear still grips my muscles and flows in my veins. After long hours we were rescued. A release without guarantee and in danger of our lives. Again. Terror.

I have no idea how this will influence the rest of my life. If I will ever be able not to fear every small noise, not to imagine gunshots in the depths of the night. But one thing I feel more strongly than ever: we must stop this cycle of death. We must invest all of our power and energy in the end game, how to build a peaceful and secure future for all who live in this place.

It will not end with words like “deterrence,” “a final blow,” “decisive.” Quiet will arrive only through political means.

I have no need of revenge, nothing will return those who are gone – my sister-in-law Mira; Tal from my class (the “Shaked” group); Bilha, my mother’s childhood best friend, and her grandson and her son in law; Livnat and Aviv, whose parents were our neighbors forever, and their children; Michal, who was my counselor as a teen and her son; Liron’s sister Smadar and her husband; Eli, Avner’s father; and hundreds of others.

Indiscriminate bombing in Gaza and the killing of civilians uninvolved with these horrible crimes are no solution. Rather, this is the surest way to prolong the violence, terror, sorrow, and bereavement.

I need to know that there are those who think and worry even now about the future of those who remain, the future of Kfar Azza and the perimeter, the future of all of the human beings who live here, Israelis and Palestinians.

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I am not naïve, I know how long and difficult this will be. But as the last twenty years, and even more so the events of this horrific Shabbat, prove, all the military might on earth will not provide defense and security. A political solution is the only pragmatic thing that is possible - we are obligated to try, and we must begin this work today.