A father and a 12-year-old son went out for a father-son evening to mark the end of elementary school. On their way home, on Route 60 north of Assaf Junction, about ten Arab terrorists from Deir Dibwan ambushed them on a highway with blocks in their hands and Molotov cocktails, in an attempt to beat them.
Thank God, and the shielding, which shattered into small pieces and scattered throughout the vehicle, my son and I returned home safely. Healthy in body and strong in spirit. So were our neighbors who were with them.
The next morning we have to deal with the damage caused by "quiet terrorism," the one that doesn't get headlines.
Order a tow truck, because not only were the windshields and bin damaged, the radiator was also cracked. File a complaint with the police, and go to the tinsmith, glazier, and garage. And then into this headache came the post posted by Naama Tobelsky, my neighbor on the street in Ofra.
The scene of the attack at the gas station near Ali, photo: AFP
Since Tuesday, they haven't moved from the bed of Eran, their 20-year-old son, who was seriously injured in the attack on my husband. The murderer's bullet broke the ribs and caused severe damage to the internal organs, a complex and serious injury.
"It's not normal what's going on here"
On Thursday evening, Ohad, Eran's twin brother, and Michal, the younger sister, left Shaare Zedek Hospital to rest for a few hours at home in Ofra. They, too, were kidnapped in the same ambush that planted an Arab mob for Jews who just want to go home.
"It's not normal what's happening here," Naama tells me through tears over the phone as she stands next to her wounded son. "It's not normal."
She talks about the life that stopped in an instant, the warmth and supportive wrapping they receive in the hospital. "Also from the amazing Arab staff here, doctors and nurses who also share the same feeling that it is impossible to continue like this."
Documentation from the murderous attack in Binyamin
Now into the chaos of the war for Eran's life, and the sense of fragility of his life, the "silent terror" entered and hit the Tobelski family again that week.
"We lost control"
"I try not to be one of the people who talk, I try to be one of the people who do, but every once in a while you have to talk because it's inevitable," wrote Shauli, Naama and Avi's eldest son. "I am a combat officer in the army, doing service in the West Bank, present at all events and in all places. Every time I jump into an attack, I work on an automaton, try to deal with catching the terrorist, and don't understand enough that alongside the chase there are families whose lives have changed."
"Until this week, my little brother was seriously injured in the attack on my husband, suddenly I'm on the family's side. We sit next to him thanking him for the miracle that he is with us, he is defined as stable but still difficult, hoping and praying that he will continue to grow stronger and come out of this safely. And now, after we thought that was it, we received the portion of nachas from the situation in the country, my brother (twin of the one who was injured) and my little sister now drove home from the hospital and stoned their car on Route 60."
A small table, a flag with a soul candle on it, at the entrance to Hummus Eliyahu at the gas station near Ali, photo: Jonathan Zindel, Flash 90
"I beg forgiveness as an officer in the army, I was supposed to receive my little brother's bullet, and I am supposed to receive on my army jeep the stones that my younger brothers received. But we lost control. Painful, scary, sad, angry. Take care. Good news."
Deir Dibwan is considered a relatively quiet village. We visited it once and stayed at the home of Mansur Mansur, the former mukhtar of the village. Ariel Ishi sent him photographs of the smashed vehicle and a call to prevent the village youths from rioting. He wrote that he was sorry and hoped the violence would stop.
Violence expands
But the violence won't stop until we stop it. The fact that rioters have emerged from a quiet village shows that violence is only increasing. Even the hundreds of young Jews who rioted after the funerals do not contribute to calming security. The feeling is one of disintegration and anarchy.
The security forces work night and night to protect our lives. But they work with tweezers against the nests of terror. Perhaps, you don't need to apologize as an IDF officer, let alone ask for forgiveness. You and your friend are our heroes. The one who needs to apologize is the political echelon, which allowed the situation to deteriorate. Without the determination of the political echelon to lead a second defensive wall, quiet will not return to the State of Israel.
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