On August 1, it will be two months since the suicide bomber detonated explosives at the entrance to the "Dolphin Disco" on the Tel Aviv promenade. The mournful date of 30 days has passed, the "shloshim" has come, and emotions have settled on the pages of Hebrew newspapers: the "Russian" theme has been conveniently forgotten. Life seemed to have returned to normal.
But has it returned for everyone?
A day is equated to a year.
That night, June 1, the Kuliyev family was watching television.
- Suddenly the phone rang, - recalls Anastasia Kuliyeva, the mother of 18-year-old Faik, a student in the "Yud-Dalet" class at the Tel Aviv school "Shevah-MOFET". - An Israeli woman informed me: there has been a terrorist attack at the Dolphinarium, your son is injured, talk to him. Everything inside me shattered... I heard Faik's voice: "Mom, I'm fine, they just want to take me for a check-up, I don't know where yet." Panic erupted in the house. My husband has heart issues, I was scared something might happen to him. Meanwhile, the first "live" footage from the scene of the attack and the hospital started airing on television. I saw Faik being carried on a stretcher into the emergency room of "Ichilov", bloodied from head to toe. My husband didn't even recognize him. But I did - by his colorful underwear and high boots. I stayed silent... But they repeated that footage again. And then my cousin said: "But that's Faik!"... We rushed to "Ichilov". Upon arriving at the hospital, the Kuliyevs began to rush through the corridors, but could not find their son.
We went down to the entrance of the operating room, - Anastasia recounts. - We saw Faik being taken for an X-ray. He was covered from head to toe.
- My abdomen was torn open - all my insides were out, I thought: my parents will see this - they will die, - explains Faik. - So I asked the nurses to cover me...
Our conversation takes place in the rehabilitation department of "Ichilov" hospital: this week, 10 young men and women who sustained serious injuries at the Dolphinarium are being discharged. And although a significant distance of almost two months has passed since that night when the explosion occurred, the memories are fresh, as if it all happened yesterday.
- And then Polina's mother, Emmi's friend, called us and said: "I think the girls went to the 'Dolphin'," - recounts Larisa Skulyshevskaya, the mother of 18-year-old Emma, a student at "Shevah-MOFET". - Polina called her mother directly from the "ambulance" and said she was being taken to "Ichilov". Meanwhile, Tamara Fabrykant's father called me - he said he saw Emma's name on the list of the injured. I thought the injury was minor, and I brought pants for Emma to change into...
In the emergency room of "Ichilov", something unimaginable was happening: on the floor, an Israeli woman was hysterically crying - the mother of one of the injured. The parents of the repatriates held themselves with dignity, trying not to show how hard it was for them. No information about the condition of the injured was provided. For Larisa, the agonizing uncertainty stretched on for a long time - until five in the morning. And then she was informed that her daughter was seriously injured in the head.
The operation lasted about six hours, and only after it was over did the anesthesiologist explain Emma's condition, - says Larisa.
- The tragedy that struck us affected my 66-year-old father: a heart attack, he had to undergo heart surgery. No, dad didn't scream, didn't panic. But he experienced what happened to Emma more heavily than anyone...
- For the first 13 days, I didn't leave the ward at all because Faik was in terrible condition: all bandaged, in excruciating pain, unable to sleep at night, - Anastasia recounts. - And only when he was transferred to rehabilitation did I start going home at night. I stay here every day from 8 in the morning until late evening.
The Kuliyev family has been in the country for 4 years. They came from the city of Ganja (Azerbaijan). They live as a family of five (Faik is the oldest of three children) in Bnei Brak, in a rented apartment.
The Skulyshevskys can be considered long-timers: they have been in the country for 8 years. They came from Ukraine, from Kherson, and live in Bat Yam. Larisa is divorced from her husband, and shortly before the terrorist attack at the Dolphinarium, she lost her job...
Oksana Dyatlova (17.5) joins us - a student at "Rogozin" school. Her mother, Galina, also spends day and night in the hospital.
- Oksana suffered injuries to the entire right side of her body: a double fracture of the leg, a double fracture of the arm; both eardrums burst, the auditory nerve was damaged (the consequences may manifest in the future), - explains Galina. - On July 31, my daughter is scheduled for surgery - to "reconstruct" the nerve in her right arm. Her muscles have started to atrophy - hence the urgency of the surgery...
Galina is a single mother, living with Oksana. On the night of June 1, she received a call from Marta - her daughter's friend, who said: "There was an explosion at the Dolphinarium. We found everyone, but we can't find Oksana."
- I froze... - recalls Galina. - I hardly know Hebrew, we've only been in the country for three years... I called my sister. She rallied all the relatives. Through the "hotline", we were informed that Oksana was at "Ichilov". I dashed out onto the street and stopped the first car I saw. "Where to?" - asked the driver. "To "Ichilov". By my appearance, the boys and girl in the car immediately understood: trouble! And although they needed to go in the opposite direction, they drove me to the hospital. The boy escorted me to the emergency room. And there, reporters with cameras pounced on us. But what can you say when you have no idea what condition your child is in...
Liana, Oksana's friend, died.
- And my daughter, apparently, lost consciousness, - says Galina. - When she came to, bodies of the dead were lying around her. Oksana had long hair - it got burned, they had to cut it off... At first, Oksana insisted that Liana died because she shielded her with her body. The girl is terribly distressed...
So many fates - so many tragedies. Each has its own. More precisely - familial. June 1 is a fateful moment between BEFORE and AFTER. A watershed. And everything that is left behind has no relation to what is happening today. As for what is happening AFTER, Ruth Bar-On, the head of the Centre for Assistance to Repatriates in Crisis Situations (SELA), once told me a phrase that I will remember for the rest of my life:
- For native Israelis living in their homes, surrounded by family, friends from school and the army, it is extremely difficult to cope with the physical injuries and psychological trauma resulting from a terrorist attack. And imagine how it is for repatriates - people who often have no friends or acquaintances in Israel, living in rented apartments, working in jobs unrelated to their qualifications or not finding work at all!
And indeed, until June 1, Faik Kuliyev, like most of his peers, was working part-time. He worked on weekends and during vacations. He dreamed of saving money for a trip to Italy.
- I had grand plans for the summer, - he says. - In Italy, I wanted to see my favorite football team "Juventus" play.
And now Emma Skulyshevskaya, like Faik, is missing the summer combat course. Not to mention part-time work: that can be forgotten.
- Don't you think it's a miracle that everything is behind us, we are sitting - even if in a hospital garden - and calmly talking? - I ask Emma.
- No, - she replies firmly. - No miracles! I live as if in a dream. I have the feeling that everything that happened then, two months ago, and what is happening now, is just a dream.
At the entrance to the "Dolphin Disco", two of Emma's closest friends died, her mother Larisa will later tell me. For her, as for Anastasia, as for Galina and other mothers, since June 1, time flows differently: a day is equated to a year.
- I don't even know how we will return to normal life, - says Larisa.
- It's hard to imagine that I won't have to get up at dawn, prepare lunch, rush to the hospital, - echoes Anastasia. - I have been overwhelmed by the feeling that I am sleeping, seeing a nightmare - and I can't wake up.
- And I feel like it has always been this way, - interrupts Larisa.
- I think I will also need to undergo treatment...
- The first days dragged on like months, - says Anastasia. - Faik woke up... Faik moved his finger... He spoke a word...
- And Emma spent the first ten days in intensive care, entry to the ward was strictly forbidden, - recalls Larisa. - We started communicating after she was transferred to the neurosurgery department. And she ended up in rehabilitation due to a leg fracture. I believe our children only got back on their feet because they were all together in rehabilitation. And those who were discharged earlier and are sitting at home are in a terrible moral state. Can you imagine sitting locked up all day, staring at the ceiling - and all sorts of thoughts creep into your head? Memories keep flooding back...
- My son was operated on: part of his small intestine was removed, an open fracture of his arm was set. But it is practically impossible to extract the shrapnel from his body... - Anastasia states.
- And Emma has a nail lodged in her brain - it is visible on the X-ray images... - says Larisa.
- And here is the nail that was extracted from Faik's stomach. - Anastasia Kuliyeva pulls out a transparent plastic box from her bag. Inside are a rusty screw (about three centimeters long) and several smaller pieces of metal.
- Faik is gradually extracting these foreign bodies from under his skin himself. Looking more closely, I notice lumps on the boys' hands. They can be felt. Periodically, the connective tissue where the tiniest shrapnel is stuck begins to fester - and metal particles are rejected. In other cases, to extract them, medical assistance is required. And this extremely painful process is accompanied by a constant fear that a new wound will become infected.
- Emma was told that extracting the nail from her brain should not be done for now, as the operation could cause harm, - says Larisa Skulyshevskaya.
- And Faik categorically forbade me to cry, - continues Anastasia.
- In the most difficult moments, I had to dash out of the ward - only in the corridor could I let my tears flow... In the first days, my son categorically refused to meet with reporters: "Mom, - he said, - look at me: how will I be remembered - there is no living place on me!"...
According to the boys, in the first days after the attack, hundreds of people regularly visited them. But gradually the avalanche of compassion began to dwindle. Now in the ward, you can only see close friends of the injured and members of foreign delegations. Even during the Maccabiah Games, girls and boys who were injured at the Dolphinarium were visited by French, Canadian, American, and Russian athletes...
- Did you go to the ceremony for the "shloshim"?
- No, none of us went there, - says Anastasia. - To see that cursed place again is beyond our strength. Journalists from the second television channel asked Faik why he didn't go to the "shloshim". My son said he was tormented by feelings of guilt: he survived while his friends died. It is hard to look into the eyes of orphaned parents...
- Emma and I went to the Dolphinarium ourselves, - says Larisa. - And we visited the cemetery, at the grave of the Nalimo sisters. But we didn't dare to speak with the parents of the deceased: there are no words that can even partially express the pain we feel.
- Those who have not endured what we have cannot understand us, - says Anastasia. - And we probably cannot fully understand those who lost their children. It is unimaginable...
Locked up, like birds in a cage.
On the evening of June 1, IDF soldier Alexander Ulyanov (19) and high school student Bronislav Virshulovsky (17) arrived with a friend by taxi at the "Dolphin Disco". They got out of the car, greeted Roma, Ilya, and two girls...
- Roma and Ilya stepped away from us by about a meter and a half - and at that moment, it exploded, - recalls Alexander Ulyanov. - The flames scorched my face, blinded me... A few seconds later, I came to, managed to open my eyes and - purely instinctively - ran (at least it seemed to me that I was running). I still felt nothing. I crouched down... And only after that did I feel a sharp pain in my groin...
Bronislav, like Shurik Ulyanov, was also blinded. The blast wave ruptured his eardrum.
- I was also running somewhere... I tried to find Shurik. But I couldn't see him anywhere, - he recalls.
...We are sitting in Bronislav's apartment, in a cramped kitchen, the windows of which overlook the yard.
Memory takes the boys back to that terrible night.
Shurik was taken to the hospital about 20-25 minutes after the explosion.
- Medics rushed over, cut my clothes off, took off my sneakers, laid me on a stretcher, and took me to the emergency room of "Wolfson" hospital, - he says. - They revived me... And ten days later - I was discharged. My face was burned, touching my skin was impossible. And it was hot at home, there was no air conditioning - my whole body burned. I called the army. They arranged for me - and I was placed in "Ichilov".
Shurik stayed in "Ichilov" until the beginning of July. Bronislav spent three weeks in "Tel HaShomer": third-degree facial burns and multiple shrapnel wounds all over his body.
- How did things develop after your discharge from the hospital? - I ask.
- I went to the National Insurance Institute - "Bituach Leumi", - says Bronislav. - They gave me a one-time allowance - 800 shekels. And then they said: "Until you present the results of all the tests, you cannot submit an application for a medical commission that will determine your degree of disability".
- And how many checks have you gone through?
- Four. But that's not all. It's a long story. Once I go through all the checks, I will need to fill out a form, then a medical commission will be appointed... I think this whole procedure will take at least a year...
According to the boys, June 1 split their lives into two parts.
- BEFORE, it was a completely different life, - says Bronislav. - No restrictions! And now I can't even go out to buy cigarettes: if I stay in the sun for a couple of minutes - my whole skin breaks out in painful red spots.
- And I can't bring myself to show up in a crowded place, - says Shurik. - I have developed a fear of crowds. I can't sleep at night.
- Who visits you?
- In the hospital, all sorts of people came - strangers, schoolmates, adults, I didn't remember any names, - says Shurik. - You open your eyes - and see new faces. But at home, only volunteers from SELA - the Centre for Assistance to Repatriates in Crisis Situations come to me. Very nice people. No one talks about the explosion with them...
- Do you manage to distract yourself from dark thoughts?
- No. The problem is that my body is full of shrapnel, - says Shurik. - The X-ray shows it all over. And yesterday, Bronik and I tried to enter a "mall". The guard ran an electronic "bomb detector" along my body - and it started ringing!
Yasha (53), Bronislav's father, works as a welder. Five years ago, the Virshulovsky family experienced tragedy: Bronislav's mother, 43-year-old Sofa, died of cancer. And on June 1 of this year, a new disaster struck Bronislav's father...
- Don't be sad: you'll be "fixed", - I assure the boys.
- Physically, maybe, yes, - says Bronislav, - but not morally. While I was looking for Shurik near the Dolphinarium - I saw things I will never forget. A girl was hopping on one leg - the other was blown off... On the asphalt - parts of human bodies... Puddles of blood... And everyone who survived was screaming, calling for help. But the scariest thing is the smell of burnt flesh, I still smell it...
According to the boys, in the first days after their discharge from the hospital, they still received some attention: people called, visited. But then a sinister silence fell.
- Besides Ira Genina, a staff member of the citizen appeals department of the Bat Yam municipality, and the volunteers from the SELA project, you won't get help from anyone, - says Shurik. - But Ira is a great person. Once I ran out of cigarettes and had no money. I called her - she brought them right away...
When asked how the future looks to them, Bronislav replies:
- I don't know... For now, the only thing I see is the street from the window.
- Do you have any girlfriends?
- Not now - no. It's a problem... It's hard for us to communicate with girls: if something happens - you raise your voice, explode, you tremble all over, - says Shurik. - Something has broken in my relationship with my parents. If someone calls and says something wrong - I snap. And all this reflects on my mom. I even had to move in with my grandmother for a while to avoid conflict with my mom.
- And I attack my dad and sister, who lives with us, for no reason, - says Bronislav.
- We live in a rented apartment, - says Shurik, - we have to pay for it, but my parents have no money. You see how they suffer, and you can't help - you're unable to work, and it drives you crazy with your own helplessness.
- I used to work part-time, my sister and I helped my dad, - says Bronislav. - I worked as a welder, plasterer, and in a vegetable shop. Recently, I was responsible for the "Bumper Cars" attraction at the Tel Aviv amusement park. On average, I brought home two to two and a half thousand shekels a month. It was a little help: to pay the phone and electricity bills... And now I can't even show myself in the sun. What work can I do?..
- What would you like?
- I'm not in a state to think about desires, - says Shurik Ulyanov. - The only thing I sincerely want is to help my parents pay the rent...
They say that time does its work. However, no one specifies what exactly it does, this time. Long conversations with the young men and women injured at the "Dolphin Disco" convinced me of one thing: these people need not only material assistance. They need - attention. Understanding. Genuine friendly support.
How can we provide this for them?
Let's think together.
I await your letters, dear friends. I am sure: together we can break the closed, alas, circle of pain, suffering, and loneliness.