Golden Bondi to Hell on Earth

She grew up on the golden beaches of Bondi but 26-year-old Australian woman Dassi has spent the week in a war. In the five days since Hamas infiltrated Israel, The Sunday Telegraph has followed her journey.

SATURDAY – DAY ONE – 30 minutes from Gaza

It was the vibrations that woke her. An unceasing stream of phone notifications, lighting up her room.

“I thought I was getting a phone call,” she said, but when she picked up her phone, a chill ran down her spine.

‘Red alert. Red alert. Red alert’.

It was not the first time Dassi had received a rocket alert. Having lived in Israel for five years, she knew they were a part of life here.

“The majority of people that live here have an app on their phone that lets them know when there are rocket attacks anywhere in Israel,” she says.

“We’re used to, on occasion, having rocket attacks in the south because tensions are high obviously.”

But something was different this time. Something was wrong. The attacks weren’t just in the south – they were everywhere. And they wouldn’t stop.

“They’re in Tel Aviv, in Jerusalem. These are central cities that don’t usually get rocket fire everywhere. Suddenly it’s the entire country,” she said.

“We were completely caught off guard. Nothing made sense then. Nothing makes sense now.

“I ran to my mum and woke her up and said, ‘we might have to get ready because of the sirens’.

“She was a bit confused because usually we have a bit of a heads-up in general when things are getting bad. The military releases statements like ‘be careful because there might be tensions this weekend’.

“But there was no warning at all, no one knew what was happening.”

Then the booms started.

“We heard that militants were storming cities, and that the city next to us had been breached and there were terrorists shooting in the streets,” Dassi said, her voice flat.

“People were being kidnapped. People were being killed. People were held hostage in their own home and we were told to lock the door.

“Our bomb shelter is outside so we would have to unlock the door every couple of minutes for the sirens. Rockets are falling in different places. And we’re seeing that people that we know are terrified and people are being killed in the streets, in their homes.”

On Saturday, a day that should have been spent celebrating the Jewish festival of Sukkot, eating her mother’s cooking and spending time with family, Dassi found herself sprinting back and forth from between her barricaded home and the bomb shelter.

“Every city is aware that they have a different amount of time (to get to a shelter) before a rocket will hit. We had around 10 seconds.”

For hours Dassi and her family sheltered, the family dog shaking in their arms. At nightfall they fled to the north.

“We jumped into two cars, as a strategy in case something happened to one of the cars. And then we drove. There were rockets over our heads. The sirens were going. We had to jump out of the car and go into a nearby field. My brother covered me with his body as the rockets hit.

“It’s very odd to be lying in a field with a bunch of strangers that you don’t know but also looking into people’s cars to make sure that they’re looking at you friendly because you’re scared.

“We could hear the iron dome (defence system) intercepting them overhead, but they aren’t able to intercept everything. There were hundreds of people laying in the field praying.

“We got back in the car and started driving. The sirens started but there was nothing we could do. We were sitting ducks.”

A drive that should have taken 40 minutes took more than three hours. When she and her family arrived in a location closer to Jerusalem, she was physically unharmed. Mentally, she was a wreck.

“I couldn’t talk to anyone. I went on a couch and just looked at my phone, and watched the news. I couldn’t go to the bathroom without being scared a siren was going to go off. When I did take a shower, I could still hear the sirens ringing in my ears.

“It was a massacre. It wasn’t about politics. It’s just about death right now.”

Sunday and Monday – Near Jerusalem

The next two days pass in a blur. Memories of Saturday come in flashes. She is further north now, staying with family. Dassi hasn’t slept in hours.

“I have to remind myself to take care of myself and I’ve never had to remind myself to do that before,” she sighs. “You just feel numb. And then only once you drink water or you eat something only then do you realise how much you need it.”

She explains that since the attacks her life has been in a constant, paralysing form of limbo.

“I feel like I don’t have a concept of real time. I was meant to work on Sunday. I was meant to meet my friend and her girlfriend. She was really excited for me to meet her, I put it in my calendar,” she says.

When her phone reminded her of the date, the sound of her phone buzzing made her sick.

“Every time my phone buzzes, I’m shaking. I just can’t do loud noises right now.

“Everything reminds me that before two days ago, I had plans. I was going to go on a date with someone. I was going to hang out with friends. I was going to have mimosas with my friends on Friday. We were going to have brunch together.”

The Dassi who made those plans is gone.

“You can’t make any plans. You can’t think of anything besides the current day. You don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know what’s gonna happen. You’re not enjoying life, you can’t.

“Real life doesn’t exist.”

It’s the same everywhere. Schools have closed. Shops are only open for a couple of hours a day. People are instructed to stay in their homes and avoid crowded places. Panic buying is rampant as terrified people clear shelves.

“A lot of people are panicking. And there’s not the basics on the shelves. A lot of people are buying because you’re terrified,” she said.

She is in a safer area though tensions are still high. She can hear rockets being intercepted by the iron dome. But the sirens have stopped.

“I am grateful for the break because if the sirens happened here I would have a mental breakdown.

“I am just trying to come to understand what’s going on. My first cousin is by the border right now. Many of my loved ones’ friends are on the border.”

She had many friends at the music festival. She doesn’t know if they are alive or dead.

“The toll right now is at 108 and it‘s climbing,” said Dassi.

We are wrapping up the phone call when Dassi’s phone buzzes.

“I have just got a notification. They are closing down the supermarkets and rationing items.”

We end the call, and she goes to make herself something to eat. It’s her first meal in hours.

TUESDAY

It’s 7am when we speak next. Dassi opens up immediately, the words spilling from her. She wants to talk. Needs to. We start our conversations with a “how are you?”. Dassi’s answer is punctured by phone vibrations, alerting her to rocket attacks.

“I guess it‘s only been really two days”. Buzz. Another rocket alert. “But God, it feels like a f —ing lifetime.

“I got some news yesterday that someone, a friend of mine from Jerusalem, was killed in the music festival. He was this loud, funny, typical American.”

He died protecting his girlfriend, who was injured.

“He was very, very strong. We would laugh together, we would just, like have a good time. He was a mate,” she says.

“You’re not used to hearing that your friend is gunned down at a music festival. Imagine someone going to a music festival in Australia – if someone dies, that is from an overdose. It’s not from someone gunning them down,” she said.

Dassi plans on driving to her home in Jerusalem today.

“I feel helpless being here. I want to go volunteer, I want to get food and hygiene packets out to people who need it. I need to do whatever I can to not feel helpless. I am nervous about the drive, but I need to do something. I can’t just sit around and spiral.”

She is struggling to come to terms with the scale of death.

“I am not used to this level of violence and this level of loss. There’s no time to process … (and) the reality is so much more scarier.”

Wednesday – Jerusalem

Dassi arrives safely in Jerusalem and will go to David’s funeral. She is too emotionally drained to talk. Instead she sends us a stream of videos.

“There are police everywhere but some life here,” she says.

“We are going to make food and do what we can, especially for our mental health. We are both at our wits’ end. Later on we will attend our friend’s funeral.

“It won’t be a huge event. It’s not recommended that a lot of people come because large numbers of people are considered dangerous.”

Thursday – Jerusalem

Something changes for Dassi today. She lists her plans for the next few days, and her list is full. She is hurting, but for the first time in days, she feels she has purpose.

“Everyone’s so overwhelmed, but everyone’s like putting others before themselves and it’s incredible,” she says.

“Yesterday a friend of mine messaged me … she hasn’t left the house since the attacks and she told me that she’s an anxious wreck.

“I went to go visit her. She answers the door, like, shaking. She’s crying to me that she’s scared and she hasn’t left because they got other sirens. So, I take her, I say, ‘we’re going out. It’s okay, we are going to help make meals’.

“A few days later I messaged her and she was too busy volunteering. She was happy … She has a purpose now.”

She explains that she was meant to fly out to Australia today, but has changed her plans. She has too much work to do.

Friday – Jerusalem

We struggle to contact Dassi on Friday. She is too busy helping her friends. As the days go on, our conversations get shorter. By Saturday, Dassi can only chat for a few minutes. She’s living with a friend who has a young baby, while her friend’s husband is at war. The baby has become her world.

“I put my life on hold for the first three or four days because I was terrified. But within the span of five days, I am starting to feel like I am strong. I felt so overwhelmed and scared for my life but when I am looking after this baby or seeing my friends that really need someone …

“I am tired of being scared. I am refusing to be scared anymore.

“I have friends on the front lines and I am not going to let them be in danger while I am hiding at home. I am not allowing myself to be alone with my thoughts right now.

“I don’t have time.”