‘I feel they’re still here’: Tomer Zak on family after Oct. 7
Ten months after her family was decimated, the Israeli keeps telling their story
By the time Tisha B’Av ended Tuesday night, Tomer Zak told her story multiple times. In a lunchroom, private residence and at a Squirrel Hill intersection, the Israeli, whose family was decimated on Oct. 7, recalled her mother Etty, her father Etay, her brother Sagi and her dog Sokka.
“This brings me meaning to the things I’m doing,” she told teachers at Community Day School on Tuesday morning.
The evening prior, Zak, 23, delivered similar remarks at a private residence. A day before that, she recounted her family and the events of Oct. 7, while speaking at the Bring Them Home vigil in Squirrel Hill.
Zak is on a mission, she told the Chronicle.
“Before I get into the story of what happened to my family, I’m here to talk about them,” she said. “This is why I’m here. This is why I’m doing what I’m doing.”
Etty, an educator at Kibbutz Kissufim, was a Moroccan woman known for exceptional potato dishes, cheesecakes and salmon. Etay, a towering man with a “soft heart,” who entertained the kibbutz’s residents with imitations and jokes, worked in the avocado farm. Sagi grew up on MTV, loved dancing and greeted everyone in the kibbutz with pleasantries because of his “strong values,” Zak said.
The Israeli can speak about her family for hours. She understands, however, that sharing their story means reducing a lifetime of memories to vignettes. At one talk, Zak mentioned her mother’s love of Turkish telenovelas. At another, she omitted that her father often imitated the characters on those TV shows. In each of the talks, Zak shared photographs.
“This one is my favorite family picture,” she said. “It’s of our quiet life long ago.”
Zak uses the present tense to talk about her family.
“It’s because I feel they’re still here,” she said.
On the morning of Oct. 7, Zak and her older brother Hadar weren’t home. She was waitressing in a hotel in the desert.
Zak said she woke up to bombs and wondered what was happening. She tried calling her family, but service was out.
“We didn’t realize what was going on,” she said.
The army entered her kibbutz’s group chat and began asking for details about people’s locations, Zak said. “It was then that I realized this was a really big mess.”
Zak spoke with Hadar. The siblings spent hours waiting for information.
Around 1 p.m., Zak received a call from her mother.
“She had left the shelter and was explaining the situation to me,” Zak said. “She said there’s shots behind the house, but they’re OK because they’re in the shelter. And then she said to me, ‘Tomer, I have to speak quietly so they won’t hear me.’”
The daughter told her mother to return to the shelter, saying, “We’ll talk later.”
That was their last phone call.
Hours passed before Zak received any information. Around 6 p.m., she heard from a neighbor about a fire near her house.
“I really decided that it was going to be OK because the army had people inside,” she said.
Kibbutz members were being directed to the Dead Sea. Families were told to reunite there, but Zak wouldn’t go until she heard from her family.
On the evening of Oct. 8, she received a call saying that her mom, dad, brother and dog were found dead.
“My dad and the dog were at the entrance of the shelter. And my mom and Sagi were in bed,” Zak said. “The information that we got was that they died from the smoke and fire.”
Months passed. Zak returned to the army and served near Kissufim. On Jan. 7, three months after the heinous attack, she returned to the kibbutz.
There are no words to describe that experience, she said: “It was really hard.”
Zak entered the shelter and found Kalashnikov bullets, “the bullets of the Hamas terrorists,” she said. “There were blood stains on the bed and holes in the wall.”
Her findings didn’t match the smoke inhalation narrative.
“I started doing research and putting the puzzle together,” she said.
Zak believes the terrorists knew the IDF was on its way to rescue residents. She said there were instances where terrorists donned IDF uniforms, relied on strong Hebrew skills and fooled people.
“I know my family really trusted the army,” she said. “We grew up in the kibbutz in a peaceful way and believed in its strength. We felt secure all the time. We felt safe because the army was around us.”
Zak saw no signs of struggle or holes in the shelter door. She did notice, though, that an item was removed from the refrigerator — on the appliance’s exterior were photo magnets of the family.
“One was from Sagi’s bar mitzvah,” she said.
When the terrorist’s body was located, a magnet was “found on his dead body,” Zak continued. X’s covered Etty, Etay and Sagi’s heads.
“I believe he marked this over their faces to bring back and show his family that he murdered them,” Zak said. “I believe with my whole heart this is the story of my family and what happened.”
Zak has no plans to stop speaking about her family or the events of Oct. 7. Her conviction was spurred by an experience at Emma Kaufmann Camp.
More than two months ago, Zak arrived at EKC as an arts specialist. Staff week hadn’t yet finished, and Zak sensed “an elephant in the room,” she said. “Something wasn’t being spoken.”
Whether it was Americans or even Israelis, people felt uncomfortable approaching her, she said.
“I asked if I could do a presentation about my family,” she continued. “I want all of them to know what’s going on, to see that I’m really fine with this subject and see that they can talk to me, not to be afraid.”
Zak spoke about Etty, Etay, Sagi and Sokka. She talked about her family and the way they lived — how every Friday on the kibbutz their home was filled with friends and family, how after the army Zak returned to work with her dad and the dog on the avocado farm.
“People from camp got to know them and know me in the light that I want them to see us,” she said.
Throughout the summer, Zak led a project. Campers made butterflies. Some butterflies were yellow in honor of the hostages. Some were multicolored. By the end of camp, 303 butterflies were made — one for each day of the war.
Zak said she couldn’t walk anywhere without seeing a butterfly.
“That was the purpose, for people to feel them in their lives,” she said. “Butterflies are a small thing that you don’t need to pay attention to, but you just feel them, you feel them in the back of your head. It’s like people that may not be in our lives now, but they always are. This is how it is for me.”
Hours remained until Tisha B’Av ended. The day, which commemorates historic Jewish tragedies, is considered the saddest on the calendar.
When asked what it’s like telling her story to Jewish educators in a Jewish day school on a day marked by generational misfortune, Zak said she wasn’t sure.
“This is kind of different for me,” she said. “For others, it’s a really big thing, such a rare story. But for me it’s so close to me. I really don’t have a realization that today is Tisha B’Av. I really just feel like the days are going through me.” PJC
Adam Reinherz can be reached at areinherz@pittsburghjewishchronicle.org.
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