Mi Mama

 

Unexpected Witnesses

6:30 PM, Friday, October 6, 2023, Sderot.

"Ding-dong, ding-dong," rings the doorbell of a small but comfortable house, perfect for an elderly couple.

Aron and Liora have lived there since 2002; before that, they were at Kibbutz Mefalsim. When they retired, they chose to leave the kibbutz they had once founded alongside others who believed they were contributing their grain of sand to the State of Israel. They adored the area and didn’t want to be separated from their lifelong friends.

"Aron, I think I heard the bell. It must be the kids. Can you get that?"

The "kids" weren't kids anymore: Cecilia, 39, and her husband Javier, 42. They had two teenage children who stayed in Kfar Saba, where they’ve lived since leaving the kibbutz.

"I’m coming, I’m coming! What a beautiful surprise, my buba is visiting!" Aron said with genuine joy. "Come in, come in! Shalom Javier, how are you?" he said, hugging him warmly.

Liora approached and greeted her daughter and son-in-law effusively.

"Make yourselves comfortable, let’s have a drink," she said, not noticing the well-wrapped package her daughter was carrying.

"What’s in that package, honey?"

"It’s for you!" she said, handing it to her father.

"Let’s see what it is..." He tore the wrapping paper.

"How lovely! Can we put it on the back wall, next to the hamsa, facing the door?"

"Yes, I love the idea! There’s still an empty hook where that painting you didn’t like used to hang," Liora said. She took it and hung it up.

They were two ceramic parrots, green, perched together like a couple on a brown ceramic branch.

"It looks so good there!"

"I’ll tell you the truth, Mom," Cecilia said. "Someone gave it to us for Rosh Hashanah and we couldn't find a place for it. It was tucked away until today when it occurred to me to give it to you. If you don't like it, no problem, do exactly what I did."

"Nooo, not at all! I love the ornament." They didn't speak of the gift again.

They had tea and coffee with homemade leikaj, Liora’s specialty.

"I have chicken ready for the oven. I imagine you’re staying for dinner; we’ll pair it with a good wine, and if you want, you can sleep here." The "kids" looked at each other and nodded; Liora’s cooking was not to be turned down.

They enjoyed dinner and pleasant conversation. By 11 PM, Javier, a lover of good wine, had finished half a bottle himself. His eyes were sparkling, and he stumbled as he stood up.

"You are not driving at night like that, no way!" Aron said seriously. "Stay over, and tomorrow you can decide when to leave."

"My kids are home alone; I’ll call them and let them know we’re coming back tomorrow."

In the living room, there was a sofa with a pull-out bed; that’s where the guests would sleep.

At 6:30 AM, all four woke up startled. When the city siren activates, they know exactly what to do. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last. Their proximity to Gaza gave them only enough time to enter the shelter, close the door, and trust the Iron Dome to intercept. They rushed in and slammed the heavy door shut.

Usually, it’s one shot; they wait ten minutes and come out. But the siren didn't stop. That surprised them. The explosions sounded very loud.

The only witnesses in that living room for a long time were the two motionless parrots—or so they seemed. The sounds of the explosions woke them from their long sleep. The one on the left was named Peri, and the one on the right, Quito.

Peri opened his eyes wide and huddled close to Quito, who was still sleeping. He rocked back and forth to nudge him awake. When that didn't work, he started calling him.

"Quito, Quito, wake up! Something strange is happening." Quito woke up lazily and was so startled by the explosions he nearly fell off the perch.

"What’s happening? What’s happening?" he asked Peri, terrified.

"I have no idea. There’s no one here. I don't know where everyone went."

"Do you think we can fly?" Quito asked. He tried, but his wings wouldn't move.

Outside, they heard voices in a language they had never heard. It wasn't just explosions anymore; the siren kept wailing, followed by smaller, rapid noises.

There was a loud banging on the door—one, two, three times. It broke. Men with partially covered faces burst in, shouting, searching the house while destroying everything in their path. They tried to open another door but couldn't.

Peri and Quito, terrified by such violence, huddled even closer in silence. Fortunately for them, the things hanging on the walls weren't broken, though the rest of the house was in pieces.

Angry because they couldn't open the other entrance, the men used a device they were carrying, pointing it at the door. It made a loud noise, but the door held. They fired their weapons at the walls in rage, filling them with holes. The bullets passed close to the parrots but didn't hit them.

They left quickly through the front door. After a while, the siren stopped; only distant ones could be heard. A door opened, and four people stepped out slowly, silently.

Peri leaned toward Quito and said:

"I think these people aren't bad. They look very scared."

The eldest man peeked slowly toward the entrance and saw people running, soldiers, and others lying on the ground over pools of blood.

Quito whispered in his ear so as not to draw attention:

"To tell you the truth, Peri, I felt safer inside the wrapping paper. Standing here watching the scene these humans have staged makes me not want to be real."

"You’re right," Peri replied. "I heard that in the real world there are birds of different shapes, animals, insects, trees, flowers, rivers... more than once I wanted to transform. Now, I want nothing to do with it."

"You know what, Quito? You’re right. It won’t be long before people with that behavior destroy everything. I prefer to be ceramic again and serve them as an ornament." They looked at each other and slowly began to return to their original state.

Outside, the sound of sirens, gunfire, bombs, and death sown everywhere continued.

These two small, occasional witnesses of barbarism became silent observers of what the human species is capable of. They decided to return to their artificial state. That way, they wouldn't have to witness what will evidently happen at some point.