At kibbutz devastated by Oct. 7 massacres, some doubt Israel's wars will ever end

At the edge of Kibbutz Be'eri, next to the agricultural fields that Hamas gunmen swarmed across on their way to inflicting mass atrocities in southern Israel, survivors have named one group of streets "death row."

"Each house they went into, they killed everybody," said long-time resident Nili Bar Sinai, 73, as she looked out on rows of destroyed and burned homes, the porches and fences now draped with banners showing photographs of neighbours who died inside.

On Oct. 7, 2023, 102 people in Be'eri were killed and 32 were taken to Gaza and held captive, with 10 of them still there. This community's losses were among the worst anywhere that day. 

As Israel marks the first anniversary of the massacres, the focus in Be'eri shifted months ago to helping the families who left to return. For some survivors, it's still too painful to even spend a night there.

Unlike in many modern kibbutzim, life in Be'eri still revolves around the collective ideals that led to the community's founding two years before the 1948 creation of the state of Israel.  

Bar Sinai says it began with a purchase of desert land from local Bedouin people, and over the decades, Jewish families created a thriving community of more than 1,000 people, which even now relies on collective ownership.   

The community-owned printing business is still the main economic driver, and communal services, such as a group dining hall where people gather daily, remain the focal point of kibbutz life. 

But Bar Sinai says in Be'eri, once known for its peace activism, you rarely hear much talk of peace anymore.

"Maybe someday they will accept us. Until then, we will have to have occasional rounds of killing."  

Bar Sinai spoke to CBC News outside of her daughter's home, where a photo of her husband, Yoram, was draped on the balcony. The 75-year-old was killed by a group of Hamas gunmen on Oct. 7 after he went to protect their daughter and grandchildren.

As alerts went out that morning indicating armed men had infiltrated the community, Bar Sinai says, Yoram grabbed his handgun and headed to their daughter's house a few blocks away. 

There, he was confronted by seven militants who opened fire, killing him.

"We had no idea of the scope or the scale of what was happening," she said. "We thought it would be one or two [gunmen], maybe three. And he could manage two or three. 

"I hope he didn't suffer long."