It is the morning of October 7 in Jerusalem, and I wake up to a loud siren. Despite never having heard it before, I know what it means. My roommates and I rush out of the house to go to the bomb shelter. I had seen signs with arrows that say “SHELTER” around my house, but I never tried to check where the shelter is exactly or what it looks like. These signs are everywhere in Israel; when I first saw them I was struck by what they implied: infrastructure of war is mundane here. Just like there are“Exit” and “Bathroom” signs, there are bomb shelter signs. Is anyone talking about what it would take to not need bomb shelters everywhere?
I stopped noticing the bomb shelters after a few months, just like many other things which became normalised. Israelis with big guns strolling with their families at the mall. Young people in military uniform and giant backpacks sitting on the bus, going for military service. Militarised police vehicles on the roads with their sirens and emergency lights on perpetually. Surveillance cameras in all public spaces.
The shelter is locked, and no neighbours bothered coming outside their houses on hearing the siren. The siren had stopped by now, and the sky looked clear – no traces of a rocket trail. Why would someone lock the shelter, though? A neighbour explains that the shelter has been used as an art workshop or something, and the person running it had been keeping it locked. We – three internationals – talk to a few neighbours to find the key. Nobody seems alarmed. Many people here are used to the siren warnings of rockets from Gaza. An overwhelming majority of these rockets are intercepted by Israel’s Iron Dome system, and never land in Israel.
Our neighbours had clearly not checked social media. There were unbelievable videos showing that somehow militants from Gaza had entered Israel. How could that be? Gaza is surrounded by walls and a highly sophisticated system of cameras, sensors and Israeli military personnel on guard. I thought that breaking through the walls or the checkpoint crossing was an impossibility.
The bomb shelter door was opened later that day. It is huge; it has an air conditioner, and even toilets. This is a fancy neighbourhood, so of course human lives here are treated as if they deserve more. In southern Israel, in the villages in the desert and in poor neighbourhoods, there are not enough shelters. What about shelters in Gaza? There is certainly no Iron Dome to intercept Israeli missiles falling on Gazans.
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My friend forwards a text message. It is from Khalil from Gaza, who teaches English, and is very passionate about literature and poetry. He dreams of travelling outside Gaza and doing a PhD. His thoughts on justice, peace and occupation, as well as his descriptions of his life within the walls of Gaza, have touched so many people outside those walls. He is deeply loved by so many. The text reads:
“Great to hear from you. I evacuated my house and Israel has already started to attack Gaza.”
My friend is in tears. The scale of the attack orchestrated by Hamas is becoming clearer with every passing moment, but one thing is clear already: Gaza will be bombed much more severely than it has been in recent years. Khalil will have to find safe places within Gaza. He sends another text:
“My heart and the warmth of the love of my friends is the real shelter for me.”
Many people are checking on him periodically and sharing updates on a group chat. Every update about him, or lack thereof, is making me anxious. Another friend on this group writes:
“Can people help me think of more poems about steadfastness, love and resilience in struggle, love and solidarity, or anything that feels right? If you send them here I’ll pass them on from us and tell Khalil we’re thinking of him.”
Also read: Denial, Deception and Distortion: The ‘Atrocity Propaganda’ War in the Israel-Hamas Conflict
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The last major escalation between Israel and Gaza was in 2021. Aside from rockets and airstrikes there were massive riots and police violence. Settlers and the Israeli law enforcement went on a rampage in East Jerusalem, which is predominantly Palestinian and under the Israeli occupation. A Palestinian-Jewish couple, who are friends of mine, lived through this horror and witnessed the impunity with which Palestinians were targeted in their neighbourhood, Sheikh Jarrah. Sometimes when I talk to them about the political situation here I feel like they have lost faith in humanity, and it is because of the events in 2021. I hope this changes or that I am wrong.
Would Jerusalem be up in flames again because of the Hamas attack this morning? Sirens warn of incoming rockets from Gaza, but not of a mob of settlers seeking revenge from Palestinians. Should I go stay with my friends in the Tel Aviv area, where there are more rockets but lesser chances of civilian violence? Dealing with sirens and rockets seems easier than worrying that strangers on the streets can suddenly turn violent towards me because of how they construe my identity.
Western Wall and Al Aqsa in Jerusalem’s Old City. Photo: Aman Abhishek
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It is dark, the streets of Jerusalem are unusually empty, shops are closed, and there is police everywhere. I am close to the bus station and a small crowd has gathered for some reason. I see two Palestinian men surrounded by a lot of police. The first is showing the contents of his bag as the police are checking his ID. The other man has his arms and legs wide open, and his hands are resting on the sign “CENTRAL STATION”. He is facing the sign while being patted down aggressively by a policeman.
A group of religious Jews – teenagers and young men – are looking at the Palestinians and laughing, jeering. Nobody is telling them to stop. There is nothing new about this, it happens all the time. Who is able to publicly humiliate whom reveals so much about power dynamics in a society.
The bus to Tel Aviv is crowded, and I am sitting next to a British-Israeli who works in tech and hates his job. I tell him that I am a little nervous, and he tells me to not worry. He is criticising the Benjamin Netanyahu government because it is completely destroying the judiciary’s ability to check the power of the government. He also sees the Israeli occupation as a major problem. “I am not really able to connect with Israelis,” he says, despite living here most of his life.
I am in Tel Aviv, riding an electric scooter on empty roads to get to my friend’s house. I am hoping that there are no rocket sirens during the scooter ride. One of the skyscrapers has a giant digital display, with an animation of the flag of Israel blowing in the wind. I am passing by the train station, where a young soldier is getting dropped off by her family. She is hugging them one by one; her family must be so worried. I guess war is starting officially. It is unclear to me what I am feeling, I think it is numbness and dread.
Aman Abhishek is a PhD student in media studies at University of Wisconsin-Madison, USA.