The Day Before the War
- 18 hours ago
- 7 min read
There’s been a tension boiling in the air since January. It seemed so likely that we would go to war then. At the time, I was dog-sitting for a week in a home without a bomb shelter. (Whereas this is normal in the rest of the world, it is not normal here.)
I’d had a talking-to with Beauty, the aptly-named husky I was dog-sitting, about how we would run to the nearest shelter (five minutes’ walk away) together and that we would not be stopping to smell everything along the way. And that week, on my way to work, I’d thought maybe there had been an omen when I was talking with an Israeli friend on the phone — when he told me that we’d be going to war soon, and after we hung up, I saw the Homefront Command app (the official government app for issuing rocket and missile alerts) open on my phone. (Often, I accidentally mute myself with my cheek, but this time, my cheek had pressed its way into the app.)
But the tensions died down after that time, and it’s been a question of when ever since then. Yet, nothing felt quite so tense until last week, and that’s when it started to seem that we would indeed be going to war soon.
On Friday, the day before the war, Dan and I went to costume designer friend, Einat’s house to pick up our custom-made Purim costumes, and it was a beautiful day. We took the girls (Dan’s three dogs) with us, who were feeling particularly mischievous, digging holes in Einat’s yard, especially around her costume shop, a permanent pop-up shop in her family’s front yard. We kept filling the holes back up, finally deciding to tie the girls to the tree nearby. Einat introduced us to the costumes she made for us, which Dan and I had planned a couple years ago -- appropriately, post-apocalyptic-themed.
Afterward, Dan, the girls, and I went to a vibey outdoor eatery/cafe in a small town nearby and ate pizza in a dog park. A DJ played ambient music to the patrons. On the way back to Tel Aviv, Dan (always my wing-man when it comes to taking photos around Israel) pulled over so I could take pics of the strawberry stall in front of someone’s home and of the kids selling Shabbat flowers just down the road. I leaned out the window to get shots of the teenagers with brightly-dyed hair. Meanwhile, in the native language, Hebrew, they revealed to Dan their whole business plan.
“I’ll give you a good deal,” said one kid.
“What’s a good deal?” asked Dan.
“Well, I buy the flowers for 35 shekels and usually sell them for 60, but for you, I’ll sell them for 40.”
How could we turn that down? In exchange, I took a few more photos, and then we traded contact info. The blonde boy told me hadn’t received any pictures yet. Ah, the instant gratification generation. Using Google Translate, I explained I would send them after Shabbat. “Why can’t you send them now?” the boy asked. Because good things take time.
After that morning, I was exhausted. Dan drove us back to Tel Aviv. I took control of the Bluetooth, and we did some karaoke in the car, him driving and me mostly sleepily slurring lyrics with my eyes closed and my head pressed against the passenger window.
An hour later, I was deeper into the center of Tel Aviv, meeting Jenny for our usual weekly photo walk, this time in Levinski Shuk (Market). It was almost Purim (which started Tuesday), and the street was littered with pop-up Purim shops that spilled out onto the streets, pouring out hats and streamers and costumed mannequins, colorful and festive and beckoning. People walked by, some even in costume already. There were bars and cafes on the corners, people enjoying their beverages and each other’s company in the terraces.
But there was a strange feeling below the jovial and lighthearted ambience on the streets, a sort of foreboding. There was a boiling undercurrent of tensions, a slow cook of war with Iran, that was simmering a little more than it had for the past couple months.
These past weeks, the US had placed all of its military toys around the Middle East. I’ve been following it in a WhatsApp group to which a British-Israeli friend added me. I don’t usually rely on social media for news, but I will admit that this group is a good source of information, despite its right-wing bias. (And maybe that even makes it an appropriate source of news for me in some ways, because it provides a bias I don’t usually get to see, and I’m able to question it a little more easily than I would a left-wing site.)
The WhatsApp group frequently throughout the day sends updates with headlines related to Israeli news, including slight elaborations on the info as needed. Lately, it has been listing the arrival of various American equipment in the Middle East, the purposes of the equipment/vehicles, when they were last used or where they were previously positioned, while comparing and contrasting current events to the previous war (the 12-Day War). With the arrival of some of the more recent technology, some of it being essential for communications and radar and offense and etc., it was becoming very obvious that war was going to happen within a few days. There was a countdown to the number of days that important equipment would arrive in the region, and my gut feeling was, “That’s it. That will be go-time.” The Shabbat before, the government had informed the country to stay by our phones or TVs in case something happened, and this Shabbat, it just didn’t seem like there would be another Shabbat before something took place.
Despite the tensions, it was a beautiful day. I watched people enjoying their lives. Everyone in Israel is glued to the news, constantly informed and over-informed. And yet, we all chose to enjoy the day, to live life; that’s what resilience and strength looks like.
It was that day, or perhaps the one before, that the US embassy here had decided to evacuate non-essential government personnel. The director of my program, Davidi, had sent us a long message about how such evacuation is a standard procedure and may or may not mean that something will happen. Nevertheless, we should stand by, try not to worry, and be prepared. And to talk to our families, too.
I’d had plans to message Mom and Dad that day with pictures of how pretty the day was and the cool things I’d done, but they beat me to the punch and called me while I was in the shuk with Jenny. We talked about The Situation, about what I would do if there were an attack, even if there were an attack in that moment, and they seemed satisfied with my answers and the info I gave them. One of the last things they said during the call was, “Michelle, we’re not so sure about coming in April anymore.” lol (The last time their trip to visit me was cancelled was in 2020 when I moved to South Korea, when they’d told me that this coronavirus thing might be a big deal, and I mistakenly said it would all blow over soon. Oops.)
After the call, Jenny and I enjoyed the rest of our photo walk, shopping for Purim costumes and accessories, popping in and out of shops, and photographing costumed passersby. We wandered to Shuk HaCarmel to eat at our favorite Thai place. Then, we waited for a Shabbat bus to take us to her car. The Tel Aviv marathon had been that morning, and Jenny was exhausted from the 10K she’d run, plus all the walking she’d done throughout the day.
At the bus stop, a few tourists had overheard us speaking English and asked us some navigational questions. We all got on the same bus together. It felt like a little hostel community, all of us talking and getting to know each other. There was a guy from Germany who had run the full marathon that morning and was then meeting with a friend for a burger dinner. There was also a girl who had just finished her Birthright trip and would be catching a midnight flight home. Well, she might have made it to her plane in time before the war started, but I’m sure the German guy is still here.
Friday night into Saturday morning, I didn’t sleep well. I kept expecting alerts on my phone. And finally, at 8:17 AM on Saturday morning, I woke up to a howling, wailing sound coming from outside. The schools here use music instead of bells, and I thought, as I started to come to before even opening my eyes, maybe the nearby school had changed its song, but it was Saturday, and they’ve been using the same song for the past several months, so that made no sense. And it was as I became more alert and awake that I recognized the sound of air sirens. I grabbed my phone and wondered what should I do — should I go to the bomb shelter now? Should I get ready to run to it soon? My phone hadn’t received the alert in tandem with the air siren, but soon after, it came, and it just warned to be ready. I got a few messages and calls from local friends. We got a long message from Davidi. We didn’t need to be in the shelter, yet. The time could come in minutes, hours, or…well, who knows? Just be ready.
After about an hour, the sirens came again.
To be continued...
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