October 7 > Gaza Border Communities > Testimony of Aya M
Lior Weizmann and I agreed to set out at first light. I was coming from Be’eri to Netivot, and he was coming from Sderot to Netivot. We planned on meeting in Netivot and continuing the ride together, just like any other Saturday.
At 06:10 a.m. (on October 7), Lior wrote that he was heading out and shared his real-time location. I put on my shoes, attached the cycling radar and pulse monitor, shared my real-time location with Lior and l headed out. At this hour, the kibbutz (Be’eri) is still asleep. Everything was quiet and peaceful. I exited the kibbutz and turned towards Alumim.
After riding about 200 meters, a terrible rocket barrage started. The Iron Dome was activated and intercepted each one. I jumped off my bicycle and lay down in a ditch to the side of the road with my hands covering my head. I called Lior and told him that there was an intense rocket barrage and to be careful, adding that the second it calms down, we’re turning back and going home.
They were distressed when they reached me and told me that terrorists had infiltrated the kibbutz and had shot the military security coordinator as well as other people. They told me to run.
Cars from the road stopped next to me. Some people got out and lay down next to me, and others took pictures of the rockets. When it calmed down, I climbed back on my bike and rode the 200 meters back to the kibbutz [Be’eri] junction and entered a migunit (small, doorless concrete shelter). Many people who had been at the [Nova] nature party nearby, as well as other cyclists who had planned on going for a ride joined me and the shelter became crowded. I decided that at my first opportunity, I was going to leave the crowded bomb shelter and go back home.
In the middle of the road, I saw three figures running my way. I recognized them. They were the [kibbutz] cafeteria employees from [the Bedouin town of] Rahat, and they were waving their hands and yelling something. At first, I didn’t understand what they were shouting, so I slowed down, stopping entirely. They were distressed when they reached me and told me that terrorists had infiltrated the kibbutz and had shot the military security coordinator [stationed at the kibbutz] as well as other people. They told me to run. They also told me that the terrorists had taken their car and phones but had let them go because they had spoken Arabic and said they were Palestinians.
Without thinking twice, I threw my bike to the side and started running towards the junction with them. My cycling shoes were making it difficult to run so I took them off at some point and kept going. One of the workers who was running with me told me “Don’t trust anyone, let’s get a ride in a car and get out of here.” We yelled to the people at the junction that there were terrorists and that they should run away. But it seemed like they didn’t understand or hear us. We crossed over to the other side of the road and tried to stop a car. No one stopped for us.
"I sent a message to Omri every hour, so he’d know they hadn’t killed me yet"
And then we saw that the cars that had passed us started turning around all of a sudden. Someone from one of the cars shouted to us that there was gunfire up ahead. I decided to run [eastward] toward Shokeda, and from there to Netivot. I knew the area well since I used to run singles there. But then I received a message from my brother, in which he told me that a cyclist from the kibbutz had been shot in the direction I planned to run. It changed my plans and I understood that we were surrounded.
I told the guy that was with me that we had nowhere to run and that we needed to hide in the bushes. I looked for dense bushes, thorns or no thorns, and without thinking twice we lay underneath the bushes, in between the thorns. We didn’t speak. We barely breathed. Through my phone, the guy messaged his family and asked them to notify the police or have someone from Rahat come and rescue us.
Then we heard the terrorists on the road. They rode motorcycles, cars, and tractors with plows. Helicopters were in the sky. Shots, red alert [rocket] sirens sounded throughout the area, strong blast waves from something that had exploded next to us. In retrospect, I believe it was a grenade that had been thrown into the bomb shelter that I had been standing in just a few moments ago. They had killed the people there, and there was the smell of fire. All types of rockets and bullets flew by and above us and I knew we could not get up.
"Later on, I learned that Lior, my Saturday cycling and competitions partner, had been shot and killed"
I sent a message to Omri every hour, so he’d know they hadn’t killed me yet. Through messages in the kibbutz’s WhatsApp group, I understood what was happening back there and I prayed that the terrorists wouldn’t enter my home and that my family would emerge with their lives. Every possible thought ran through my head at that moment, but I tried to calm myself down and told myself not to panic. Lots of breathing techniques. Based on the amount of explosions and gunfire in our area, I switched between lying on my stomach and on my back. I was still wearing my bike helmet in an attempt to protect my head, and I hid my sunglasses, so that nothing would glint in the sun.
"At this point, I had contacted my siblings and they told me that my sister-in-law and nephew had been murdered"
After 7-8 hours, a group from Rahat had come to save us. They sent us a picture that they were next to us and called us to come. We ran in their direction and started to drive. At this point, there were a lot of military forces combing the area and when they saw our car they yelled at us to stop, since they saw people with an Arab appearance (at this stage they couldn’t differentiate between Arabs and Bedouin). We got out of the car quickly and yelled at the soldiers not to shoot, and that the group had come to rescue us. The soldiers approached us cautiously and asked for ID. When they saw me, they thought I was being held hostage so they were suspicious.
At this point, I had contacted my siblings and they told me that my sister-in-law and nephew had been murdered and that my brother and niece were being evacuated to the hospital.
At this point I broke down, I could not stand up and I bawled my eyes out. They asked if I was injured and I told them no, asking them to get us out of there. The soldiers understood that there was no danger, and that the group with us had just come to help. [The soldiers] instructed two more people that they had found in the bushes to join us, and then they let us go. They asked us to drive to Patish since there was a gathering there. The Bedouins knew the area well and in which direction to drive.
On the way there, we saw cars that were abandoned, burnt and destroyed – and not a single soul around. On the horizon, in the direction of the communities near the Gaza border, we saw dark smoke rising. We saw detained Arabs with their eyes covered and hands tied next to large military forces, I supposed they had been apprehended.
We reached Patish, and from there we went to the Ofakim police station. Many people from the nature party that had taken place in the area gathered with us; some were bleeding, others were in shock. Everyone was dirty from dust and sand, since they had lay down on the ground. Each one had their own horror story. Several more rocket sirens sounded and information started coming in about a terrorist cell roaming Ofakim. It made me uneasy, so I entered a bomb shelter and I wasn’t able to leave for a while.
"I closed my eyes and heard gunshots and the sounds of war. I could not fall asleep"
At this point, I had contacted my siblings and they told me that my sister-in-law and nephew had been murdered and that my brother and niece were being evacuated to the hospital; my siblings were going to be with them. I also managed to speak with my mom at this point. I completely broke down. I sat and cried non-stop. The sobs of someone broken, who has not yet realized the magnitude of the disaster and the amount of luck I’d had through the whole ordeal.
One of the police officers told me that there was a bus taking everyone to Be’er Sheva and that I had to leave, since no one could stay in Ofakim. I then received a call from the manager of the [Be’eri] cafeteria, who was from Rahat, who told me that he was coming to protect me. He said he would take me wherever I wanted to go. I told him I was on the bus to Be’er Sheva. He told me he was driving behind me and that the second we stopped, I should get in with him. So I got off the bus and got in my buddies’ car. We drove through Rahat since they wanted to buy me something to drink and eat. Omri’s dad waited for us in Kiryat Gat since we didn’t want him to come close to the area. We met him there and I switched over to his car. From there we drove to Kfar HaNagid.
I met Lior when we started to organize a group for Har LaAmek [“Mountain to Valley” - an annual long-distance relay race]. When he joined the group, it felt like he had always been there. He was new in the triathlon world and he had many questions and tried to learn as much from me as he could. Since he was preparing for Ironman and I was preparing for Israman, we decided to cycle together on Saturdays. Lior had opened a WhatsApp group with cyclists from the area, in order to coordinate Saturday rides that would become longer the closer we got to the competition dates. We had completed the Ashkelon and Ashdod triathlons together. We would wait for each other to write the numbers down and our rides on Saturdays were filled with talking and laughter. Lior had a sense of humor and always had a smile on his face.
At the end of the Ashdod triathlon, after I had stepped onto the podium and Lior had taken a picture of me, he asked, “Aya, when will it be my turn to step on the podium?!” I told him that from what I knew about him and his sense of determination, we were going to see him on many podiums. Later on, I learned that Lior, my Saturday cycling and competitions partner, had been shot and killed at the entrance to Sderot. It’s a hard loss for us all.
I felt horrible, as if I were going to faint. Someone called MDA [Magen David Adom - emergency EMT and paramedic organization] who took my vitals and said that physically I was okay and that all my vitals were normal. Although they recommended I go to the hospital, I decided not to. I closed my eyes and heard gunshots and the sounds of war. I could not fall asleep. I constantly checked the kibbutz’s WhatsApp group, to see if they managed to evacuate Omri and the kids.
Only early the [next] morning they managed to evacuate Omri and the kids through the window in the safe room, since the door had been jammed, and they all arrived at Kfar HaNagid. My bicycle had saved my life, and prevented me from being in the kibbutz at the time it all started. My bike most likely also saved my partner’s life, who had protected the children. If I had been there, he would have joined the emergency squad, most of whose members had been killed.
Since there was still a lot of active combat, my parents were evacuated much later, but they were okay. My brother underwent two surgeries and they will most likely amputate his leg which had lost extensive amounts of blood. My niece underwent surgery to remove shrapnel from her legs, but she is okay. Through messages in Kfar HaNagid’s WhatsApp group, we managed to get clothes and shoes for everyone.
Every now and then I break down, and then collect myself for the kids. I still hear gunfire but I’m working on calming myself down and reminding myself that it’s all in my head. We’re currently getting ready to go to the Dead Sea, since I understand that it’s best for my kids to be with their friends.
We’re getting more and more information about dead and missing friends. And we’re still missing a lot of information. Things will never go back to the way they were.
A small, dark humor quip to end with - my Garmin watch was left on the bicycle I had abandoned, if any security force finds my bicycle and watch, please close the activity on the watch. We currently need to focus on picking up the pieces and fixing our broken hearts, which I doubt we’ll ever be able to mend. We’re mostly broken, shattered and in shock, we break down every now and then but collect ourselves for the kids. And we thank our lucky stars that we’re (still) alive.
Aya M.
Source: Runpanel
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