No easy route home

For most people, the idea of getting into and out of Israel during a war could pose a minor inconvenience when the skies effectively close to air transport. Only, in the case of this war with Iran, the skies are closed because there are ballistic missiles flying en masse towards Israel many times a day. 

Iran has fired around 500 such missiles at Israel since the beginning of March. Each of these missiles can destroy entire city blocks or military bases and kill many, many people. And Iran hasn’t been firing one at a time; it has been firing at least 10 or 20 at a time, sometimes more. In this war, it has been reported that 50% of the Iranian missiles have been armed with cluster warheads. These split into smaller explosives before hitting the ground, enabling each one to do damage to an area the size of several football fields. They are known to indiscriminately spread dozens of submunitions, each with several kilograms of explosives, over a radius of around 10 kilometres. 

The only reason Israel hasn’t been decimated is because of the Iron Dome, David’s Sling, and the Arrow Missile Defence System. These intercept as many missiles as possible mid-air. However, they aren’t fool proof and so far, 13 to 17 people in Israel have been killed in the war. As many as 2 339 civilians have been evacuated to hospitals, with 95 still being hospitalised. Sixteen people have been wounded in Hezbollah missile fire from Lebanon. 

Israel has reportedly managed to stop 80% of the missiles fired at its civilian population. With this in mind, let’s not for one second imagine that Israelis are 100% safe. They are not. They are in a volatile war zone and are literally running backwards and forwards from shelters. They are trying hard to get on with a semblance of normal life, but it’s not easy. Israelis, however, have an apparent knack of being able to just deal with it and make it look easy. 

People are getting around Israel by car and public transport, but they do it knowing they are taking a risk because when the sirens go off, it’s not for nothing. And when they hear those loud booms, those are mass military killers either being stopped in the air or causing damage somewhere. When they see the sky streaked with white lights, it’s those mass killing machines again. People may make light of it, but there is nothing light-hearted in or about this war. 

Like most of you, I have close family and friends living in Israel. This war, one of my most precious people was stuck in Israel for more than a week. I say stuck, but, while the running backwards and forwards to the shelters was trying, she was with her family and there was undoubtedly an element of contentment in being with nearest and dearest in the situation. However, she and her husband needed to get back here for important reasons. 

Their original flight home via Ethiopia had been cancelled and then a second one they managed to attain was also cancelled. Getting worried and antsy, they considered the alternative routes. 

Getting a bus to Taba in Egypt and flying from there, or crossing the border into Jordan and making their way out of there, were among the options. None of the routes was simple, nor were they totally safe. And the idea of a long bus ride with the many sirens being sounded was specifically nerve-wracking because of a recent experience they’d had. 

They’d been travelling between Ra’anana and Jerusalem by bus and a siren went off. All aboard the bus shouted to the driver to stop, but he wouldn’t. When he eventually did, everyone tumbled out, crawled to the side of the highway and lay on the ground as they watched the missiles being intercepted above them. It may have looked amazing, but the real threat of the missile debris or fragments falling wasn’t lost on them. They were not happy to be outside of a safe room or bomb shelter. 

So, a long bus ride into a foreign land was not high on their cards, but their choices were limited. Eventually, they managed to secure a two-and-a-half-hour flight out of Israel to Greece. Yes, from Ben Gurion Airport on Monday evening. 

Except the skies above Israel were still effectively closed, with a few special flights being allowed. They were excited because they got seats, but weren’t sure what that meant about suitcases. 

Nevertheless, they got to the airport. The security personnel asked the familiar question: Have you left your bag unattended at any point? My loved one said: Of course not. Ten minutes later the siren sounded, and they were all told to leave their luggage and head to the underground shelter. 

We were on a video WhatsApp call and she took me with her. I could feel the stress of the people in a crush, trying to get down the four flights of stairs. And when they got down, everyone seemed to be worried, and, of course, they were all on their phones. Then we heard the “boom”, “boom”, and “boom”. It was loud and felt close. 

As she said, she wondered if the missiles had been intercepted or hit the ground somewhere nearby. All I could think of was that she was going to be in that same airspace soon, but I said nothing. I didn’t want to make her more stressed. 

After the siren, she and her husband made their way back to customs. Lots of questions and queries. At one point, they weren’t sure if they were to be turned away or not. 

Then there was another siren. Another flight downstairs. Then, they got on the plane to leave. 

We had no more comms until she was in the airport in Athens. My family and I stressed until we knew they were safe. The images I kept pushing from my over-imaginative mind weren’t fun. I can only imagine how stressful it was for them until they knew for sure they were out of missile range because, now that it’s over, I don’t even want to discuss it. 

I am just grateful she is halfway home. 

And I wish all our loved ones in Israel safety and security. May this war end soon so that Israelis can feel safe again. 

Shabbat Shalom! 

Peta Krost 

Editor