Telfed volunteers help 7 October kibbutzniks return home

For Selwyn Margolis, 87, returning to his home on Kibbutz Kissufim near Gaza last week was not about unpacking boxes and rearranging furniture. It was a return to keeping the memory of his son Sa’ar, who was killed defending the kibbutz more than two and a half years ago. Helping make that return possible was a dedicated team of volunteers from Telfed. 

“My dad wanted to go back home, and he wants to be with Sa’ar,” said Selwyn’s daughter Beora Margolis. “He said, ‘I want to go back so that I can go and sit with my son and talk to him when I want to.’” 

On 31 May, 14 Telfed volunteers went to Kibbutz Kissufim to help move displaced families back into their homes. Thirty families are returning, two to three a day. The younger residents can manage alone, but the volunteers wanted to bring the seniors home together as a group. 

Debbie Dash, the Vice-Chairperson of Telfed, has been in regular contact with the Margolis family for more than two years. Because they are South African expats, Kissufim has never been just another kibbutz to her. So when Telfed organised the day to help seniors return home, it was clear to Dash that she needed to be part of the team unpacking Selwyn Margolis’s home. They were joined by his daughters, Beora and Marcelle, who wanted to prepare the house before their father returned. 

“When we arrived, the atmosphere was a blend of anticipation, heaviness, and quiet determination,” she said. “We knew that volunteers had once rushed into these same homes to pack up lives in minutes. Since then, families have rebuilt temporary lives in Omer, replacing clothing, household items, and daily essentials. 

“Now came another difficult chapter ‒ returning to Kissufim, sorting through boxes from different stages of displacement, and trying to create order and comfort again. All of this while carrying the emotional weight of coming home to absence: to a child who is no longer there, to grandchildren who are not returning. There was a shared, unspoken understanding that this wasn’t simply ‘moving day’. It was a homecoming layered with memory, grief, and extraordinary resilience.” 

Selwyn wasn’t at home on the day of the move as his daughters wanted to shield him from the pain and chaos of unpacking. “But in them I saw a full spectrum of emotions: honesty about their grief, deep gratitude for our help, and a profound sense of humanity. These are not people asking for pity. They are people reclaiming their lives,” said Dash. 

One of the volunteers, Lara Stein, explained that they were tasked with bringing in the items that made the house a home. They unpacked boxes and made sure that everything was set up to make the move back in seamless. 

“The emotional load is already immense. After nearly three years of displacement, trauma, and uncertainty, the last thing anyone needs is logistical chaos layered on top of psychological pain,” said Dash. “The support we offered may seem small: unpacking a kitchen cupboard, lifting a box, listening, standing quietly beside someone navigating grief and memory. But Telfed’s role was to absorb as many practical burdens as possible so residents could focus on the far more complex inner journey of returning.” 

Stein said that all she could think about while putting clothes into a cupboard was, “If the walls could talk and the stones could tell their stories, they would reveal just how shocking those events were. Yet today there is also a sense of renewal. New walls are being built, pavements repaired, and fresh coats of paint applied. Amid the memories of what happened, there is a tangible regrowth and a feeling of newness.” 

“This was a humbling experience in every sense,” Dash said. “You aren’t just carrying boxes; you’re carrying pieces of interrupted lives. Every cupboard we opened, every item we unwrapped held emotional weight. We were stepping into homes where the air still held the absence of loved ones who would not be returning. 

“The residents’ emotions were layered and varied – relief, longing, fear, and grief, often all at once. Some were grateful to finally return to familiar walls. Others were anxious about what ‘home’ would feel like now. Many carried the pain of returning to a place that no longer holds everyone it once did. But beneath all of that was a quiet, unmistakable strength. Choosing to come home was, in itself, an act of courage,” she said. 

Margolis explained why her father returned. “He wanted to be back in his own home. He wanted the memories of Sa’ar.” 

She herself was extremely nervous about going back as the area holds a lot of trauma for her. 

“It’s not easy. It’s quite confusing, and it’s quite difficult because all of a sudden I was there, and Sa’ar wasn’t there, the dogs weren’t there, the kids weren’t there, my sister’s not on the kibbutz next door. So all of a sudden you find you’re actually by yourself. I’m still nervous that my dad’s gone back, because I don’t think it’s hitting yet,” she said. 

“I was there alone, and it’s still a blow. It’s a very strong blow. It actually hurts very much.” 

However, she and Dash say that having the volunteers there is making a world of difference in how people are now coming back. 

“We barely had to explain anything. I’d simply point to a carton and say where it needed to go, and they just knew what to do. They were incredibly caring, making sure everything was in the right place, and they kept asking if we needed any more help,” said Margolis.