The field in front of us has been tilled. It is dry. The winter rains of storm Byron have not yet come. Instead, the sky is filled with what are sometimes called “mare’s tails,” a kind of wispy high-altitude cloud that often indicates a storm is coming. I am standing just inside the fence that marks the western edge of Kibbutz Kissufim. In the distance is Gaza.
This kibbutz is the closest community to the Gaza border in this area. In the old days, before the 2005 disengagement, there was a border crossing nearby and one could drive to Kfar Darom and Gush Katif, the Israeli communities in Gaza.
Today, Kibbutz Kissufim, like other Jewish communities in the area, is still recovering from the Oct. 7 attack. The fence here may be new and improved. Gaza may lie in ruins to the west, with the Israeli army now controlling half of the Gaza Strip and a ceasefire in place since October 13, but much is unsettled.
I have come here to meet with Lior Carmel, the chairman of Kibbutz Kissufim. He has been speaking on behalf of the kibbutz since the war began. Prior to this position, he worked as general secretary of Tzofim, the Israel Scouts Movement, and was director of the national Suicide Prevention Program. Carmel is also a former director of the National Road Safety Authority.
He has been helping wherever he can since Oct. 7, and Kissufim has become a focus.
Carmel talks about the days after Oct. 7, when everyone here was evacuated, and many knew someone killed or called up to fight in the war. In the days after the Oct. 7 attack, entire communities along the border, such as the residents of Be’eri and Kfar Aza, were evacuated to hotels in other parts of the country. Some of the kibbutzim had been overrun by terrorists. Others had been saved from massacre by the quick response of their security teams, notably Kibbutz Magen.
After the attack: trauma and return
Carmel describes how he went to a hotel where members of Kibbutz Be’eri had been evacuated, as well as to help members of Kibbutz Nir Am. In carrying out his work, he got to Kissufim.
“This area had gone through a hard time. Some 80 terrorists entered here. We have an [IDF] base here, and 29 soldiers were killed there and... 17 people killed here; Shlomo Mantzur was kidnapped here – the oldest hostage,” he recounts.
According to reports, the victims in Kissufim included six foreign workers. Shlomo Mantzur, 85, from Kissufim was killed on the kibbutz, and his body was taken into Gaza. Carmel points out that kibbutz members were also killed that day in other locations, and five close relatives of members were also murdered. For a small community of only 270 residents, that was a high death toll. Many buildings were badly damaged during the terrorist assault.
As we walk around the kibbutz, Carmel describes the aftermath of the attack and its effect on the community.
It’s quiet today. As in most communities here, the entrance is a yellow gate. A soldier is on guard duty. It’s quiet now, but there is the sound of a drone overhead, a reminder that the war could return and that vigilance is important.
The kibbutz was founded in 1951, like many of the other Israeli border communities here. They were built to control the land and establish a line of communities along the Gaza border. In those years, things were still unsettled. After the 1948 War of Independence, thousands of Arab residents fled to Gaza from areas that became Israel.
Some of them attempted to return, and some were armed. Eventually, they formed gangs of militias called Fedayeen, supported by Egypt, to attack Israel. These kibbutzim became a wall against the infiltration raids by these groups. The IDF had to retaliate as well.
After Oct. 7, the kibbutzim were evacuated. This was a decision made in haste by Israel’s leaders due to the gravity of the attack and the huge death toll and the destruction. Members of Kissufim were evacuated to the Leonardo Hotel near the Dead Sea, Carmel says. After a year, in September 2024, he explains, some were able to move to caravans in Omer. Since August 2024, repair work has been ramped up.
The repairs are clear to see during the walk-through. Some new buildings have been constructed and others torn down. The roadways are also a mix of old and new.
One sidewalk still has crumpled bricks and concrete from a tank that drove through here during the fighting. There is an empty outdoor exercise area with yellow and red exercise equipment of the type one sees in many Israeli parks. A red tractor has been stenciled onto the white stucco of one of the homes that appears to have been repainted.
The neighborhoods within the kibbutz have names such as Gefen. There are also symbols from before the war. One area, where youth or young families must have lived, has graffiti from 2019. Another row of small red-roofed houses have purpose-built square stout safe rooms outside the houses; the safe rooms are so large, they almost dwarf the houses. They are a feature of the landscape now, as each home needs a safe room.
Because the kibbutz dates back many years, the evidence of previous wars can be seen, such as concrete stairways leading to old underground bomb shelters. These would have been for various areas, each serving several homes.
There is a lot of trauma here, says Carmel. He describes the process of beginning to rebuild 10 months after Oct. 7, the “Black Shabbat.” He speaks of Israeli society working together and of the need for the country to care about the people here who have been traumatized. Trauma comes in layers. There is the initial trauma of the Oct. 7 attack, and then being evacuated and displaced. “To leave your place of work and education, it’s not easy. But we are optimistic, and we won’t forget what happened,” Carmel says. “We are now operating anew with the country and army and rebuilding the homes and the community.”
He says that about 25 families have returned. Schools opened in September 2025. The ceasefire began on October 13. It is now December, and there have been months of relative quiet. For the members and residents here, it is not always easy to return. Some feel trauma in returning, he says; others feel it by still being displaced and away from the community. “We want each to return in their way; we hope that by the summer of 2026, people will have all returned.” He says that around 60 families remain in Omer, and 15 live in other areas of the country. “We are trying to stay in contact with everyone.”
The kibbutz has several businesses. It has avocados and a potato farm. On one wall along a small path there are paintings of avocados, evoking the kibbutz legacy in this agricultural sector. As we are walking, an IKEA truck drives past us, making its way along a narrow road. In the distance, repairs are being made to a home. People are also working on rebuilding a walkway and adding plants to line it. Carmel speaks about the overall attack in this area on Oct. 7. A total of 350 terrorists are believed to have attacked the area, with 80 attacking the community.
Because there was an army post in the community, soldiers were able to respond to the attack. This is in contrast to some communities such as Nir Oz, where the army did not respond and was not able to even get to it until after Hamas had massacred people and kidnapped others and left hours later. We walk past the area where Carmel says that Shlomo Mantzur was kidnapped. Then, down another path and across a small open grassy area, there is a day care. Apparently, two children are in the day care today.
“The biggest challenge for the members and the community is to rebuild life here with the memory and trauma,” Carmel says. “I feel the fear and the pain they feel, but also the desire to return and rebuild a normal community life. And I feel the desire of the kids to return to be kids again,” he says.
Carmel says that he and his team are working to “bring hope and optimism and enable each to return to their life in their way.” While these communities have received support from the state, and the displaced people have received support until next summer, there are many challenges. The small supermarket in this community, for instance, was destroyed and needs to be rebuilt. There is a catch-22 as well because until more people come back, there won’t be as much pressure to have a small local market.
There are also people who want to move to these communities and become members. Carmel says that several people have already been admitted as members. He hopes that in the next decade, more families will join. The goal also is to get younger families, for a new generation. This is a challenge for many of the communities on the border. Community life comes with its own complexities.
I ask Carmel about the ceasefire.
“The ceasefire is good, and peace would be even better,” he says, but he is not optimistic.
He also talks about the Gazan workers who once worked here. “We had many Gaza workers here, and from our view it changed. We saw the Gazans enter and how they treated the hostages, and we saw what they did looting homes. But the job of the army is to protect us.”
There is also the need for authorities to take responsibility for Oct. 7. Many of these communities, despite lip service paid to supporting them, have not received visits from officials or members of Knesset. Carmel explains that there are two sides to it. Officials or politicians may feel ashamed for Oct. 7, the catastrophe they allowed to happen. On the other hand, “I’m not sure we want to see them; but a real leader who fails and hurts people must come to them [the residents and victims] and be willing to face them and ask forgiveness.” This will also require a national commission of inquiry, he notes.
As we continue walking, the sense of quiet is clear. But Carmel promises it will be full of life again. “We have only the sound of birds and the noise of construction,” he says, referring to the main sounds we hear.
Kibbutzim like Kissufim have received support and warmth from abroad, from Jewish communities around the world. Carmel speaks about the support they have had from Jewish communities and federations in Cleveland, New York, and Chicago, as well as Canada and Australia. “That is important and real support; we feel we are important to them,” he says.
He shows me a video of a heartwarming and emotional speech he gave in Cleveland. At that time, he was promising that the community might double its population in 10 years.
Now we take a turn and head west, coming to the last row of houses of the kibbutz before a fence that divides the community from a field and from Gaza. He points in the distance to Deir al-Balah. He says that when Israeli hostage Eli Sharabi was freed in February 2025, the Hamas ceremony could be heard in the kibbutz. That is how close the border is. “Those who weren’t here can’t understand,” he says, describing the Oct. 7 attack. The memories. “Those who weren’t in the safe rooms in darkness [can’t understand].”
The Hamas terrorists crossed this field that we are looking at. It’s flat here. It would have taken them just 10 minutes to get across the field. Hamas attacked with more force here because they knew there was an IDF post. Hamas also had maps of the community; they knew where the head of the community security team lived. Carmel remarks now, with the birds around, “We don’t hear doves of peace [today], but one day.” I ask him if he got used to the sounds of the war, the artillery and drones. He says yes, noting that he doesn’t even notice the buzzing of the drones.
As we walk back from the fence, there is a house with a small wooden bench outside. Near the bench are dozens of projectiles; missiles and munitions fired from Gaza over the years. Some are large, some small, the size of a forearm or a leg. This is the threat these people lived under. Decades of rocket attacks by Hamas. Decades of threats ignored. On Oct. 7 it all came here, those decades of underestimating Hamas and letting it build up its power. Today the recovery is underway.
As we walk back, we come to a long narrow ditch, some kind of conduit for electrical lines or something, that is being carved into a new road. I step gingerly over the ditch, passing from one side to the other – just as the kibbutz and all of us must pass from the Oct. 7 attack to the next phase.