Stratis Aggelis, Tel Aviv Mission
Can you imagine Greeks in weather and under the threat of bombing playing racquets on the beach, working out, jogging or sunbathing on the beach front of Athens? Probably not, most would answer.
But it is happening in and it is not a few daring or eccentric Israelis, nor a propaganda operation set up for the cameras. We have seen the scene before in previous wars, but it never fails to impress, especially when you see mothers with their children playing on the beach.
What is it that drives Israelis to “Life must go on,” a girl tells me. “I’m not afraid, we’re not afraid of them,” shouts a young man with rollers who stops abruptly next to me and just as abruptly leaves. Many do not want to talk to a journalist, they ask me to leave them alone to enjoy the sun.
As soon as the alarm messages come to mobile phones through a special application, the beach empties. Others run in the basements of beach hotels, others under uneven junctions, others in the entrances of apartment buildings and shelters. From the message on the phone to the siren, a couple of minutes pass and another five to six until the first explosions are heard. But there are cases when the rockets arrived over the city without sirens sounding.
After the end of the alert, even after explosions, most go home but some go back to their schedule. To date, there has been no report of a missile or shrapnel hitting the beach.
I take some pictures from afar. I can’t get it out of my head that some of these people have returned from the front or that they will go there tomorrow with their finger on the trigger, that they may have found themselves in front of buttons that with one push will decide the lives of dozens of other people far away, in Tehran, in Beirut, in Gaza. As Trump cynically reminded us yesterday, such things happen in war. Here, in Israel, the occupied territories and the surrounding countries, this is a daily routine.
I stop in front of a small table set up on the sidewalk, with a cardboard that reads: “I’m here to listen to you. No criticism, no advice, no pay.” My name is Orly, the young man told me, I came two months ago from America, I study people’s reactions, I just want to help people bring out what they have inside.
Orly supports Israel but finds it problematic to celebrate the killing of the enemy, even when it comes to the leader of Iran.
Behind the table a couple are sitting on chairs and chatting while a man in civilian clothes with an automatic weapon slung over his shoulder joins the company who wants to know where I am from. A passerby, she tells Orly that what she can tell him is that today is her birthday. Everyone sings Happy Birthday with her and laughs. In the ten minutes that I stayed with them, no one stopped to confess guilt, fears, hopes…
