The scene of Tel Aviv’s crash site from Iran’s early morning strikes had very small differences from the same setting just hours later. Just before 5am, the central Tel Aviv strike location was engulfed in flames; onlookers came to the site to see the ruins like it was a spectator show.
But amidst this was a clear chaos; buildings in the vicinity of the crash site, within a multi-block radius, had blown out windows and rescue crews entering buildings to free people from rubble and safe rooms. Iran’s ballistic missiles were meant to cause as much harm as possible, and that’s how it seemed to go.
Buildings were gutted on impact, a location which resulted in multiple casualties. In the daylight hours that followed, buildings seemed as if they were scooped out like a spoon into ice cream. There was no question that what happened here was a deliberate attack on the livelihood of Israelis just going about their business.
The same people who were finding their apartments destroyed during the early morning hours were now back in the same place, packing up their belongings to stay somewhere; anywhere. The took what they could grab, whether digging through rubble or more easily accessible. They needed to take what they could and get out, because their home became uninhabitable in a matter of minutes.
It was nearly impossible to walk around glass. Nearly every inch of the ground for blocks was covered in glass, with storefronts completely shattered. The base of Tel Aviv’s Lighthouse Hotel was destroyed, making the hotel look as if it stood on stilts.
Very few buildings had no damage. For some it was a cracked window, for others it was crumbled doorways. After walking into one Ben Yehuda Street apartment building, it was impossible to get around without stepping on parts of walls, broken memorabilia, glass, and even broken doors. Trying to get through a single apartment felt like a treacherous hike through the wilderness; but it wasn’t more than someone’s new reality.
The first apartment we entered was buried in rubble. The resident cold see specific belongings in the distance without any way to grab them without sifting through broken glass and other dangers. She had protected space in her unit, and went up to the top floor to seek shelter with her neighbor, Marisa Sarfatti. Both women had lived in the building for an extended period of time before their shocking ejection at the hands of Iran.
In Sarfatti’s home, the women joined others in the early hours of Sunday morning sitting on the floor of her safe room, locked in for their own safety. Something told Sarfatti to wait and not listen to a notification that would allow all to leave their protected spaces. Her gut intuition saved this group of Tel Aviv women, because the loud bang which followed would traumatize them.
This was the moment of impact. "It was the loudest sound I have ever heard in my life. It was like a clap of thunder right in my ear,” Sarfatti told the Jerusalem Post at the site of impact on Monday. “The whole building swayed. I thought it was going to collapse.”
They were told "Your building is destroyed"
Before they could even process what happened, the cousin of one of the residents, a paramedic, called her to ask if she knew what happened to her building. “Your building is destroyed,” the women were told. They shared a sense of disbelief until being rescued from their safe room, after 30 minutes of effort from military search and rescue services.
Monday’s scene went from dystopian to a symbol of resilience, hours before the sun would go down.
These women attributed their survival to a miracle; for others in their neighborhood, it was purely following instructions from emergency services that saved them. Understanding that while many tragedies are unavoidable, taking every possible precaution provided was not just a suggestion. They were a survival guide.