Natan Bahat
One of the Founders of Kibbutz Nir Oz
“I arrived in Nir Oz on February 28, 1958, and I’ve been here for 67 years. Good friends of mine from “Hashomer Hatzair” came here to establish a new Kibbutz, and since then, I have stayed. I grew up with this place, and in many ways, Nir Oz is the work of my life.
On October 7th, I woke up to the sound of sirens, but despite the sirens, I went back to sleep. Nir Oz is located right on the border, and over the years, I got used to the sirens. Around 8:30 am, my daughter, Hamutal, called me and warned me about what was happening in the kibbutz. After the call, I entered the safe room and locked the security door. I actually heard terrorists speaking Arabic right outside my apartment, but I still wasn’t too alarmed.
My apartment was one of six in the kibbutz that the terrorists didn’t enter. I have no explanation for this – maybe it was just luck, like Russian roulette.
Looking back, I didn’t really understand what was happening in real time.
When the attack began, I saw messages in the WhatsApp group of the kibbutz instructing everyone to enter the safe rooms and lock the doors, but I wasn’t too concerned – after 67 years in Nir Oz, I was used to security threats. It never crossed my mind that invasion like this could actually happen.
I stayed in the safe room until 1:30 PM, and then I went out to prepare lunch. Suddenly, I saw armed soldiers walking along the path near my home. I waved at them, and they took me to the command post that had been set up in the kibbutz. Later that day, I helped the military locate the homes of people who needed to be rescued.
Some of my grandchildren slept that night at their grandmother’s apartment, who also lives in the kibbutz. They locked themselves in the safe room all day – and that’s how they survived.
My other grandchildren, Or (16) and Yagil (13), were at their parents’ home. Their mother, Renana, wasn’t home that weekend, so they were with their father, Yair, and his new partner, Meirav. The terrorists tried to break into the house, and when they failed, they used an explosive device that destroyed one of the walls. The blast forced the door of the safe room open.
On the day of the attack, we didn’t know what had happened to them. Only the next day did we realize that they had all been kidnapped to Gaza.
Renana, the children’s mother, fought relentlessly for their release – and indeed, after 52 days in captivity, they were freed in November 2023 as part of the first hostage deal. Meirav was released a day later. Unfortunately, we later learned that Yair, their father, was likely murdered on October 7, and his body was taken to Gaza, where it is still being held.
I am an optimistic person by nature, and at first, I didn’t think the situation was so severe. I was convinced that my grandchildren would be returned from captivity quickly. It took 52 days – but in the end, they came back.
Nir Oz, was the hardest-hit community in the October 7th attack – one in four residents was either kidnapped or murdered that day. The numbers are unimaginable, especially in such a small community of about 400 people, where everyone knows everyone. The day after the attack, the surviving residents of the kibbutz were evacuated to a hotel in Eilat. I’m not much of a hotel person, so I spent about a month at my daughter’s home in Moshav Beit Zayit and then in Moshav Brosh in the northwestern Negev, not far from the Gaza enclave.
A month later, I returned to my home in Nir Oz, which was then almost completely empty. This is my home. I have no other place. Since my house wasn’t damaged, it was clear to me that I would return. The kibbutz residents may not have been here, but the dairy farm was still operating, and the crops in the fields still needed care – so I came back and tried to help as much as I could.
There is a famous Hebrew song that says:
“It’s not the same home, it’s not the same valley, but the wheat will grow again…”
We need to rebuild our community as soon as possible. It will take time, but this place will be rebuilt and restored. It won’t happen tomorrow – but it will happen.
I was one of the founders of the kibbutz, and I remember when everything here was just sand, how we started with a few simple huts. And how, despite all the hardships, we grew into a thriving kibbutz. And the wheat – the wheat will grow again.”