Recently, I took an unusual excursion. I traveled from Jerusalem to Zikim. An hour and a half journey across Israel, from the border with the West Bank to the border with Gaza. Just three kilometers from the epicenter of the war. From the center of the world. A forsaken area. An area with a military base. An area profoundly stained with blood on October 7th.
First, I passed through Ashkelon, also a Mediterranean town. Very beautiful. Although in the sky, there was a parade of fighter jets leaving a trail of noise like I had never heard before. In Zikim, I went to the kibbutz of the same name, guarded by soldiers, to interview a hardworking, friendly, and interesting man. A Jew who extended his hand to me as he did to the Palestinians with whom he worked until the barbarism.
Danny Nakash (Buenos Aires, 1966) invited me to his lovely home to chat in his beautiful garden. Although, during the hour I was there, I couldn't help but hear the sounds of war. Three kilometers away, the Israeli army was fighting against Hamas. Danny warned me that he would elaborate on his answers. It is appreciated because the eternal conflict deserves it.
Gabriel: First of all, I ask you to introduce yourself. Explain everything that defines you.
Danny: My name is Danny Nakache. I was born in Argentina, in Buenos Aires. I came to Israel in 1987 with a group of kids from a youth movement, and we arrived at a kibbutz on the Israeli triple border, with Gaza and Egypt. The kibbutz is called Kerem Shalom. It went through quite a difficult time during this period. I stayed there for eight years. My first daughter was born there, and I got married.
As the kibbutz dissolved, we came to Zikim, another kibbutz also on the border with Gaza. And here, my second daughter was born. I have been living in Zikim for 28 years now. I have worked almost always in agriculture. Since I arrived in Zikim, I have been working in the avocado plantation. It involves a lot of work, but it is very satisfying to work with plants. I am 57 years old, and this is my place in the world.
We are in a kibbutz next to Gaza. What does it mean to have lived here for three decades?
I can start from two places. First of all, in daily life, I already know what it's like to have threats very close. We have had a lot of missile showers. There have been worse times when terrible amounts of missiles fell inside the kibbutz. Damages, but luckily without fatalities. But with fear.
One of the great things about Israel—for some, it's bad, for others, it's good—is that all houses have a shelter. They have a specific safe room. And that, on the other side of the border, they don't have. That's why there are many more casualties. If there were no shelters in Israel, there would obviously be many more deaths.
"The threat is constant. There is always a possibility. We are the first beach from Gaza. When there is a sea attack, it is generally towards here."
The threat is constant. There is always a possibility. We are the first beach from Gaza. When there is a sea attack, it is generally towards here. And that is quite terrifying. They won't come with tunnels here, as they do in other kibbutzim, in the southern settlements. But with boats. It's difficult.
On the other hand, I come from a youth movement, and I have a left-wing ideological line. So above all, I am a humanist. In this sense, I have a lot of relationships with Arabs. I worked with Palestinians from the moment I arrived in Israel until October 7. It is normal for me to go to work with Gazans. With very good relationships, where I have seen so far what their double conflict situation implies.
On one hand, their conflict with Israel, and on the other hand, their conflict with Hamas. Every time there was a Hamas attack, they suffered because they knew they were going to lose their jobs.
Do they live in Gaza and come to work here?
Yes.
And now...
Now it has closed. I don't want to say "never again," but it's very possible that for a long time, they won't be able to work in Israel again. So, the economic issue, in the relationship with the Palestinians, is a matter of double interest. A win-win situation for both sides. Economies that are closely related.
In fact, in Gaza, the currency is the shekel, the Israeli currency. Electricity is Israeli. Water, Israeli. The entire infrastructure relationship, everything is Israeli. And, at the moment, if there is a cut, which, for now, there is, it is terrible for them.
It also has implications for us. These are people we work with. They used to come to work with us; we had a good working relationship. We have people now who came to work from Africa. For them, the payment in Israel is excellent. If in Gaza, a worker receives around 7.50 euros per day, here they receive approximately 60 or 75 euros per day. Almost ten times more than what they receive there.
And are you in contact with these people now?
After October 7, no. I can't tell you directly if they are alive. Before October 7, a Gazan who stopped working when the first border closure happened, about 20 years ago, wanted to come back. And we were doing everything for him to return because we worked very well together. But after the war, I don't know what happened.
On the other hand, many people are afraid. They say, "I don't want a Gazan to come to my house, close to me. I'm afraid: I don't know if he's a terrorist...". There is a lot of fear.
We were talking about how you experienced the conflict during these 28 years, and now I want you to explain how you lived through October 7. What were you doing that morning? How did you find out about everything?
As usual, at that hour, on a Saturday, I was sleeping. The alarm indicating that missiles were going to fall sounded. I told my wife that there was an alarm; initially, she didn't want to get up. I said, "No, no, let's go." We don't always get up; we're a bit laid-back in that sense, we're a bit calm.
We were sleeping, sometimes we don't go out... but I don't know, maybe it was a premonition, but I said, "It's heavy, let's go." Not only did we start hearing missile alarms, but we also started hearing the sounds of shrapnel. There were shots. A lot of gunfire. Later, we found out that it was from all the Hamas boats, from the naval command. They wanted to enter through the beachhead. And there was a very significant confrontation.
"Part of the Hamas naval command killed all the soldiers on the beach and reached the fence, which is here, 300 meters away."
Fortunately for us, the navy destroyed almost the entire command. And the few who managed to arrive first killed all the soldiers at the base near the beach. Later, some of them reached the fence, which is right here. You can see it there. It's about 300 meters away. And the beach is a kilometer and something away. In other words, the noises were very loud, and the combat, those who reached the fence, were here, just a few meters away.
There are people who take care of the kibbutz. They are from the same community and carry weapons. In case of problems, they protect the perimeter to prevent anyone from entering. They had a face-to-face combat with the terrorists. Fortunately, they managed to kill them. Otherwise, we wouldn't be talking right now. That is very clear because we are very close, and I don't carry a weapon, I never carried one.
"I remembered that my youngest daughter was going to a music festival, and I couldn't locate her."
So, that's how we started the morning. With a lot of noise, knowing that something dangerous was coming. And we started to hear the news. First, through WhatsApp messages. We started hearing that things were getting difficult.
How did it continue?
Then I remembered that my youngest daughter had told me that she was going to a rave, to a music festival. And we started hearing in the news that there was a massacre at the rave near Re'im, the Nova. So, my heart sank. And I started calling on the phone to see if I could locate her. I couldn't reach her because the lines were terrible. She wasn't answering.
I started calling other parents, from her friends, to see if they knew where she was. No one knew anything. At first, it was terrible. My wife, the same, with her daughter, trying to locate where she was. She didn't know either. She did know that she had gone to a festival near Nova. Because her boyfriend organized it, and there were rumors of many deaths. It was already known. So, both with the phones.
In the end, I found out that my daughter had gone to another festival, farther away. I immediately tried to get in touch with people where she was so they would let her into the house. Because at that moment, there were reports of terrorists all over Israel practically. It was everywhere, there were quantities of terrorists, and they were attacking everywhere. Besides, there was a missile shower. Everywhere. Unstoppable.
So I told her, "right now, go to the house of such-and-such person, get in there, and don't go out. Later, we'll see." With her friends, they sorted it out. Then, the tension eased a bit. And then, I started talking to friends, who I knew were in the most affected area, where there were more attacks.
I have friends who came with me to Israel and who live in Kibbutz Niroz, which had a hard time. One out of every four people is dead or kidnapped by Hamas. Talking to them, I said, "what's happening with you?" And they told me, "don't call me on the phone because the terrorists are outside here." I said, "did they take something? It can't be." There is a cognitive dissonance in that sense; you say, "it can't be. They are exaggerating."
I call another, and he says, "look, at this moment, I'm holding the handle of the door. Because they are trying to open it." Also, it didn't make sense to me. We started hearing news, and we began to understand that this was what was happening, that they were forcibly removing people, taking them away. Or they killed them. Or they set their houses on fire to make them come out. And then the fear started again. A fear of "what if this happens here?"
"Panic is an understatement. Because you understand that there is no army defending you. That you are alone."
We started to understand that they had entered by sea, and we also began to understand that they had wanted to enter here. And what if they come back? Panic is an understatement. Because you understand that there is no army defending you. That you are alone. A feeling of helplessness. That's how we started the day. Later, at some point, someone rings the bell. Normally, no one rings the bell at a kibbutz.
Do they ring the doorbell, or do they enter directly?
Yes, they knock on the door, or if it's someone known, they can enter. Them ringing the bell is something rare. Now, I have a window next to the door. So, I peeked from below, so they wouldn't see me. And I see that the person ringing the bell had a hat, a beard... I thought, "this is a terrorist!"
"They rang my bell, but I didn't open. That thing that seems crazy, but you're in the madness. You're living a nightmare."
In the end, it wasn't a terrorist. But I was scared. I didn't open, I didn't answer or anything. Because I thought, "they've come to kill me." I mean, that thing that seems crazy, but you're in the madness. You're living a nightmare. No less than that. Later, they asked me to speak with the Thai workers who work with me in the field. It was clear that the next day we wouldn't be able to work in the field. They asked for help working on the farm, with the cows, for the milk.
So, I said, "I'm not leaving my house." They said, "no, no." These were the ones outside, who take care of the kibbutz. "Come, nothing will happen." And I said, "what do you mean nothing will happen? Are you crazy? I'm not going out here, no way." They came to get me at my house, and I had no choice but to go.
So, I went to talk to the Thais, and they were also terribly scared. One of them said, "no, I'm going back to Thailand. I don't want anything to do with being here." I said, "no, stay, here you have shelter." "No, I want to go to Thailand, I don't want to know anything," he replied. And they all went back.
Well... all that, and not even the first day had passed. Then, you were evacuated. How was that? How did they communicate that to you?
They told us right away that there was that possibility. All the other times, I never evacuated. At most, I take my mother, who lives in the kibbutz, and then I come back because I have work in the field. I can't leave the field. The trees still need someone to take care of them. Watering, fertilizing... everything. Check if any missiles fell, and fix the pipes.
So, we left. Very conflicting because it's really hard to leave your home. Even if you know that, unlike other people whose houses were burned, ours is intact. But still, the house is your refuge. But when you realize that it's not safe...
They started sending us messages through the kibbutz WhatsApp group. That we could go to various places. We chose a place that was relatively close, so we could return, because of the field and the cows.
Where did you go?
We went to a kibbutz near Jerusalem, with my wife. I'm divorced, so one daughter went with her mother, to another kibbutz near Caesarea, and the other stayed here, in a moshav [a cooperative rural settlement similar to a kibbutz] near Ashkelon. I was evacuated for three weeks. My wife for two weeks. At first, she didn't want to go, and then she wanted to return right away. So, there was no way to keep her.
But Israel started attacking Gaza from the north. So, the conflict started moving south. And, therefore, I felt it was safer to be here. The army started allowing people to return. At first, we were forbidden to be here. Not living and not working in any way. There's no way to work because we don't have a shelter. Being so close, you don't have time to hide or go anywhere.
And at the kibbutz, they asked everyone to leave. To leave only the people who were essential for the functioning of the place. Especially the dairy farm. The people who take care of it. And when they gave us the opportunity to return, I came back on November 1st. Before that, I had to come; there was a lot of damage. But I went back and forth.
And now, returning to the kibbutz, how is it? How many times did you take shelter in total since you returned?
Quite a few times. Although the intensity of the missiles they launch has decreased a lot because Israel is currently attacking quite a bit, and so it's destroying almost all the missile launch sites. But there have been quite a few, especially in the first few days. Still, it's difficult to live here. Because, as you hear all the time, there is the sound of our cannon fire, from Israel, going that way.
And well, the kibbutz is still relatively deserted. There are very few people who have returned. It's not easy to be here because there are no services. It's a kibbutz with a lot of community life. There is a dining hall, and normally we all eat together there. At the moment, there isn't one, there's no members' club, there's not even the possibility of meeting friends after work.
There's nothing. No infirmary, no kind of service in the simplest sense. So, it's going from work to home. And the noise isn't easy either. It's not pleasant.
You don't get used to it after 28 years.
No, because it's not as much noise as this. Maybe there are more alarms during times of escalation. We got used to it. Earlier, I mentioned why it's good and bad that there is a shelter. Why it's good, I said before; we have the possibility to run and are taken care of, unlike what happens on the other side of the border, where they don't have these shelters because they didn't build them.
I mean, except for Hamas, who have their own tunnels that they can go down. The Gazan citizens don't have that. When a missile falls, they have no kind of shelter. It's not like Hamas came and built a shelter for each person like the Israeli government did for us. There's no Iron Dome like Israel has.
The State of Israel and the possible Palestinian state were born on the same day. In 1948, the division of this land for the two peoples was resolved. Israel accepted it and began to develop. The Palestinians, or the Arab states, did not accept it. And that's where the conflict began. Meanwhile, Israel developed. And the Palestinians remained in the same place.
So, at no point did that economy they had serve to develop protection for the Palestinian citizens. And one feels a lot of pity for the people. They don't have any government that takes care of them. That stops worrying so much about how to develop more attacks and focuses more on taking care of their population.
a inglés:
"The downside of Israel having shelters is that the government has no incentive to stop the missile attacks."
On the other hand, it has its drawbacks. The downside of having a shelter is that the Israeli government could say, "Well, you have a shelter. I don't have to stop the missile barrage." In other words, we might get used to living under the threat of missiles, which is crazy. In no country in the world do people live with the constant threat that missiles might fall at any moment. It's not normal.
Of course. I'll digress because you work in the field, and there you don't have a shelter. Have you ever had missiles fall there? How did you handle it?
Many times. First of all, you hear the alarm coming from different places. Although the alarm works when you are in a built-up area. In a field, there is no alarm. But you assume that if it's coming to the built-up area and you hear the alarms, it's possible that the missile might fall near you.
So, you hear the alarm from the nearest village. Then you have to pay attention to whether you hear any missiles. And you do hear them; when they are close, you hear them. You hear the buzz of the missile. Because, generally, I suppose because they are not very sophisticated missiles, they make a kind of turn. A sound like a fan. And you hear it coming, and then you start looking at where it's coming from. If it's very close, you lie on the ground.
"We are in the meeting point of Gaza missiles and the Israeli Iron Dome. All the missile fragments fall on us."
The problem is that many times, especially in recent years, we are between the Gaza missiles and the Israeli Iron Dome. We are in the meeting point of both. That means all the fragments from the missiles fall on us. If you walk a bit here [in the garden], you will start finding fragments.
You start hearing [the missiles], and you are in the field. And you lie down, and you start hearing how the fragments fall. And you're desperate because the fragments are pieces of metal that can measure 2 meters, but also, if a small metal ball falls from a height of 200 meters, it can make a hole.
I believe a lot in statistics, and I say that if the statistics show a higher chance of dying in a traffic accident, and still, I get in the car and drive on the road, I have to lower the level of fear, of stress, a bit. But when you are there, statistics go to hell. You say, "I could die at any moment."
Of course. Earlier, you told me that you are in the field, you lie down, and you start to pray.
Yes. I am totally secular, but at that moment... you don't pray, but you start saying, "don't let it happen to me, don't let it happen." It's a kind of prayer. I'm not asking a god I don't believe in, but I am asking that it doesn't happen to me, I don't know to whom I am asking.
"Living like this is very difficult. But I've already built my life here, I don't want to start all over again."
I think people reading this interview, especially those who are not Israeli or Jewish, will wonder if it's worth living like this. What would you say to them?
Look, it's a question I've been asking myself a lot during all this time. Because this time was very difficult for us. I arrived in Israel at 21, as I mentioned. I've been living in Israel for 36 years. I've lived more here than in Argentina. And always close to Gaza. Always close to the conflict zone.
I live very well because I work in what I love. I have a life that I like, especially in the kibbutz. I'm very happy. I came to Israel more for the kibbutz than for Israel. It's a type of life, that of the kibbutz, that I always liked. Communal life.
But living like this is very difficult. Especially after the last time. So, if I were 21 again today, I don't know if I would be here. But the die is cast. I've already made my life here, built my life here. I don't have the possibility, and if I do, I don't want to start all over again.
I wouldn't go back, but I understand young people who choose to live elsewhere. It's sad, very sad. It's very sad that people leave because of something like this. And in that sense, I have a somewhat pessimistic view. There are many people of the right age and with professional opportunities who relocate. They go elsewhere because it's very difficult to live here.
I once heard an interview with a Palestinian who said, "we have a lot of patience; you will end up leaving here." And it's sad because I, as a humanist, say, "what do I care if I'm Arab, if I'm Jewish, if I'm Palestinian...? What do I care?" Let's try to work together, and it's all good. But they still see you as a problem somewhere.
And in that sense, that's my pessimism. You say, "this conflict will never end." Unlike what I always wanted. I always supported all peace projects, whether Israeli or Arab. Anything that leads to peace, I always supported. But somewhere, you realize that unfortunately, there are people who don't want you here. Very tough.
A question I've been asking everyone I'm interviewing. I'm from Barcelona, Spain, and I meet many people who say that Israel "doesn't exist," ironically. People who say Israel is a colonizing state, people who say all Israelis are colonizers, even you. What would you tell them?
I believe that the West doesn't understand what happens in this part of the world. Or they don't want to understand, which is even stronger. Because there are so many conflicts in the world... Spain colonized a large part of the world. Let's not play dumb! Moreover, there are still areas in Morocco that are colonized. When they talk about the 'wall of shame,' I say, "you have to be very shameless." You yourselves have your own walls. And that doesn't make you feel ashamed?
"To the Palestinians who worked with me, they said they couldn't work in Israel because they would be 'accomplices.'"
So you say: why can people accept other conflicts so easily, and not this one? Where does that difference come from? Why do people who don't understand anything about what's happening here - who have never seen a Palestinian in their life - don't know if the Palestinian might be better off working with me than with Hamas?
I can tell you that workers who worked with me suffered a lot; they were told, "you can't work there because then you are an accomplice." And because of that, in fact, many times they were not only threatened. They were harmed.
So, there's a double standard that is very messed up. Why specifically Israel? Why don't people talk about China's conflict with Nepal? Why don't they talk about so many other territory conquests? Why? Why is this so important worldwide?
You come to the terrible conclusion that it's antisemitism. There's no other explanation. It's not about the Palestinians. Because the Palestinians, in themselves, really don't matter to anyone in the world. Not even to the Arabs. They don't care because otherwise, they would say they are entering them into Europe. No. What it is, is against Israel. And why? Being a minimal, tiny state. Why so much?
You start with the whole history of the Jewish people. Unfortunately, they say we play the victim. It's very easy to say that. How many people have experienced the Holocaust like the Jewish people? Out of my grandfather's ten siblings, only four remained. They were taken to gas chambers, exterminated. And this happened not long ago. This didn't happen to another people.
And if no one cares, at least people on the left like me in the world are not as humanistic as they think. Because if they can't be critical in that place and say, "here I have a problem, I'm really a bit antisemitic. Then I'm not as humanistic as I think." Be critical at least. But no, they are not critical. So, they are not so left-wing.
Speaking of the left, the other day I was interviewing people in front of the Knesset, protesting against Netanyahu. What is your opinion on Netanyahu? What should be done with him?
Obviously, being a person of the left, I am very against Netanyahu. Very against this government. I have always been in favor of governments that tried to take this people in another direction. It's clear to me that Netanyahu now has to go. The serious problem is that the people have shifted far to the right.
Military actions, as they go further to the right, unfortunately, I am pessimistic. Because I believe this won't make people in Gaza turn against Hamas. In fact, in Judea and Samaria, they praise what happened on October 7. They think it was great because "they gave a terrible blow to the Zionist conqueror."
So, I say, how can I be in favor of people who want to exterminate me? How can I make peace with them? Consider that all the pro-Palestinian parties that wanted a positive solution to this have disarmed.
Nobody believes in that anymore. We are among the few trying to say, "well, there are Palestinians who believe." They say no, that they no longer believe in anyone: "I don't want anything to do with them." Very tough.
"Spain doesn't understand that putting oneself so much in someone else's shoes doesn't help solve the conflict."
So, is there any solution?
I believe the solution will be very long-term. Unfortunately. Because in the short term, there is a lot of anger, a lot of hatred. Time does its thing. But it has to be on one side, and on the other, countries like Spain. Instead of taking such a one-sided, pro stance, they need to understand that it doesn't help solve the conflict.
I'm not saying the solution is to take Israel's side. The solution is to bring both parties to agreements. It's the only possibility. All the people who are theoretically left-wing and who theoretically want something good for this part of the world have to think about how these two parties can settle. Not about how to push one of the two away.
Of course, like the image of Bill Clinton with Arafat and Yitzhak Rabin.
Exactly! Think about this: Egypt was Israel's worst enemy. It was enough that after the Yom Kippur War, after the 1973 war, Anwar Sadat came to say, "we're done with this. No more war. No more bloodshed." I get goosebumps thinking that an Arab leader was in favor of peace. And it was enough for a right-wing government, Begin's government, to come; they made peace immediately. They returned the territories.
Anyone who says that the problem with Israel is a matter of territories is lying.
Because in itself, Israel would be willing, with a partner, with someone on the other side willing to make peace, to give everything. I, for myself, would give everything. I have no problem giving Judea and Samaria. Everything, take it. Jerusalem, take it. No problem. But with someone who assures me... not like what happened with Gaza.
We left Gaza, which, yes, was controlled, but you can understand why. And that place, when we left, is used to continue attacking us, to continue trying to exterminate us. So, how can people want to leave, leave those territories, how can they leave Judea and Samaria if they know that the moment we leave, the military control is gone, and Hamas takes over and starts attacking Tel Aviv and the entire center of the country?
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