Here Lived
Marcelo (Tato) Salimson and Roxana Salimson. We made our Aliyah to Israel in 1987 from Argentina, and we went straight to Kibbutz Kerem Shalom with a small group from HaShomer Hatzair. Our first son, Yoel, was born in 1989, and after him, Galit in 1992. In 1995, the kibbutz fell apart, and we moved to Nir Oz.
Our home was always filled with noise; the TV was on, music played in the background, we’d dance together in the living room, and sing karaoke on Friday before going to the dining room for dinner. It was a home filled with life. Our first grandson, who was born in 2022, was also fortunate enough to spend time in our beloved home.
On Fridays and holidays, our home was filled with friends. We always entertained until the early hours of the night. And of course, the aroma of asado beef would fill the kibbutz, and everyone knew where it came from. The dogs and cats of the neighborhood knew who fed them the best food and would regularly stretch out on our porch.
Roxana worked as a caretaker in the kindergarten ever since arriving in Israel, mostly as the leading caretaker of Rimon kindergarten. She worked there until October 6. Tato worked for many years as a poultry farmer. Later he changed careers and worked with computers at Nir Lat and then as the person responsible for communications at the kibbutz.
October 7th
Since we had only a few seconds to enter a safe space, we decided to make our bedroom in the safe room. I woke up that morning at 6:29 from the sound of sirens and loud noises around.
I woke Tato and told him, “Something strange is happening.” We dressed quickly (in case we would need to evacuate the kibbutz, as had already happened in the past).
That Saturday we were home alone. Fortunately, Yoel and Galit and their families hadn’t come to visit.
We understood that something was happening in the kibbutz from the WhatsApp exchanges, but of course, we didn’t yet realize the enormity of the catastrophe.
Our home is behind the clinic, where the terrorists were seen, according to the first message that was sent out.
I wanted to prepare coffee in the kitchen, and saw a terrorist from the window. Needless to say, I didn’t prepare any coffee. I returned to the safe room in the grip of my first panic attack. I made the shape of a pistol with my fingers, alerting Tato to the terrorists outside. The only thing that came out of my mouth was “Pum, Pum.”
Very quickly, we began to hear gunfire around the house, yelling, and very loud noises. We continued to receive WhatsApp messages.
Our children started a group and called it the “Salimson Updates,” and that was how we updated them on what was happening, so as not to talk on the phone and make noise.
During all that time, Tato held on tightly to the handle of the safe room.
They entered our home three times. We heard shooting, glass shattering, people yelling behind the door (until this day we don’t know how many terrorists entered the house), things being thrown around, and loud banging on the safe-room door.
We kept asking ourselves where the army was. We asked friends outside the kibbutz what they knew.
Our children contacted the police, Magen David Adom, and every other organization that could arrive to rescue us.
Each time they tried to open the door of the safe room, Tato, the hero, managed to close it back.
After standing on his feet for hours, he asked me to bring the nightstand close to him so that he could sit and continue to hold the door that way.
All those hours we felt a paralyzing fear and helplessness. We didn’t know what was happening to friends in the kibbutz and in the general area. We were very concerned about our children, who knew that something was happening in the kibbutz, yet couldn’t help.
We wondered when the army would arrive, and we hoped that the terrorists wouldn’t break into the safe room, because we knew that houses were being burned and people were being kidnapped.
And then, the army arrived at the window of our safe room with our neighbor, Alon, to rescue us. We heard Alon’s voice and knew he was with the army. We climbed out of the window of the safe room because we feared the terrorists had placed explosives in the house or on the door of the safe room. We came out bare footed and took with us only phone chargers. We were led with all the neighbors to the operations room, where everyone had gathered. The first thing we saw when we were taken out was the burned home of our neighbors and good friends, Yosi and Margit Silverman. Later we found out that they were murdered in their home.
At the operations room we began to comprehend the enormity of the disaster. We saw wounded people and began to hear about friends and families who had been murdered, kidnapped, and burned in their homes. The most difficult moment was realizing that children from my kindergarten had also been murdered and kidnapped.
From there we were taken to Rimon kindergarten, where I had worked. Because of the large number of people, we were divided and sent to two armored kindergarten spaces, where we spent the night. The next day we were taken out of the kibbutz. We left the kibbutz for Eilat, and there we spent three months in a hotel.
What Happened Since
We are now in Kiryat Gat. I, Roxana, continue to work in a kindergarten, and Tato continues his work as the person responsible for kibbutz communication.
