Spooky silence and memories of the massacre

Shir Matias wants to return to Kibbutz Holit, but she doesn't know if she can handle it. The 23-year-old grew up in the small community in the far southwest of Israel, whose flower-lined paths hold some of her happiest memories.

It is, however, also the place where her parents were killed by Hamas gunmen on October 7, 2023, and her brother Rotem was seriously wounded. Their mother, Shahar, shielded her son from the bullets with her body, saving his life with a final act of love.

"I miss Holit. That's the big question I ask myself every day - can I go back to live there? I don't seem to have the answer, and I don't think I will until I try," she said.

The kibbutz residents were a small, close-knit community of about 230 people that was torn apart in a massacre two years ago. Fifteen were killed, including two Thai farm workers, and six others were taken hostage. The survivors were evacuated the same day, when the army arrived in the afternoon.

Forbidden from returning to their homes for almost two years, most have been living in hotels and temporary accommodation ever since. More than a thousand cows at the kibbutz dairy are the only permanent residents of the place, now filled with ghosts and memories, its entrance guarded by a lone soldier.

The playground is covered in two years of dust, the paths and terraces are overgrown, and the silence that once attracted residents is now eerie - except when Israel bombs Gaza. It is so close, just over a mile away, that powerful explosions crack plaster on ceilings and snap electrical cables in abandoned houses.

Now the government has approved the community's return, and the residents have collectively set a date – July of next year, after the end of the Israeli school year. For Nir Sultan, whose father-in-law and mother-in-law were also killed on the kibbutz, that date is both too close and too far away.

The attack was the deadliest since the founding of Israel - 1.200 people were killed, most of them civilians, including, according to the Israeli government, 39 children. Another 251 people were taken hostage, the youngest being a nine-month-old baby.

“It seems brave to go back,” Sultan said. “On the one hand, I don’t know if it’s enough time, but on the other hand, I want to go back today, I want to be home.”

Construction has begun on a new kindergarten in Holit, designed as a bold message of faith that life can return - and as a way to attract young families.

A call for new residents has been issued, and interested parties have already come forward, willing to consider moving despite the tragedy and fear - or perhaps because of it. "Maybe they realize that if we're not here, it will be a problem for Israel," Sultan said.

Holit was originally established in the 1970s as a settlement in the Sinai Peninsula, while the area was under Israeli occupation. Following the peace agreement that returned Sinai to Egyptian control, Holit was relocated to its current location.

Holit is part of a series of communities along the edge of what Israel calls the “Gaza Strip” - because of the way that strip runs alongside a narrow strip of Palestinian territory along the coast.

Established as part of a state project aimed at containing Gaza by colonizing the areas along its borders, many of these communities are rooted in a secular, leftist Zionist tradition. Among the victims of the October 7 attack were many peace activists who worked to build coexistence and advocate for a Palestinian state.

Shir Matias' parents were among the founders of a bilingual school where children learned Hebrew and Arabic, under the slogan "Jewish-Arab education for equality."

Their neighbor Haim Katzman, killed while trying to protect another resident, was an academic and activist who spent his weekends trying to protect Palestinians in the occupied West Bank from violent settlers.

His brother, Noe Katzman, has repeatedly appealed that his brother's violent death should not overshadow his life's work, nor that the family's grief be used as an excuse to inflict pain on Palestinians.

The attack left a different mark on Nir Sultan. As a mother of three, she believes Israel's war is necessary. She still sometimes can't believe her family survived after spending hours in an unlocked room, hiding. Her husband held the door to prevent them from breaking in, as the gunmen tried repeatedly to enter.

“My dream was for Gaza to open up and for peace to reign,” she said. “Now I only think about myself, that I have to save myself and my children. If I want my children to grow up properly, I cannot let this happen again. And they (Hamas) said it will happen again.”

“Haim Kacman believed in coexistence - and what did that get him?” she added. “That’s why it’s hard to think differently now.”

The trauma of Holit and other communities attacked on October 7 arouses a morbid curiosity in some Israelis who were spared the immediate horrors of that day.

Sometimes uninvited visitors show up at the kibbutz dairy and ask its manager, Lior Kleiman, “Tell us how you survived” — a brutally casual request to relive a day filled with fear and loss, which, he says, both angers and offends him.

The residents of Holit do not need a monument. A walk with Nir through the kibbutz is reminiscent of a catalogue of horrors. Here is the house where a seven-year-old girl, hiding in a closet after her parents were murdered, called her neighbors on the phone, begging them to save her. They, risking their own lives, went outside and took her to safety.

Here is the house where Nir Sultan's murdered father-in-law and mother-in-law lived. Ronit, fifty-five, brought the color and glamour of Buenos Aires to Israel and never stopped learning. Her doctorate was awarded posthumously.

Roland, who was 68 years old, was gentle and cheerful, a talented cook and actor who loved to joke with his grandchildren.

Some of the damaged houses have been demolished, including the Shir Matijas family home, and she has not yet been able to spend the night in Holit. During the day she feels calm when she visits, but as darkness falls the horrors of October 7th return.

So he understands why some residents will never return. “It’s completely understandable that you don’t want to go back to a place where your friends, family and neighbors were slaughtered.”

But she misses the greenery, the “incredible sunsets” and the serenity of that place, so quiet that often the only sound you could hear was the laughter of children as they ran and played - “like movie music in the background”.

“I really feel my parents’ presence there and I won’t give up without a fight. I will do my best to return to Holit and try to live there again.”

Translation: NB