Where the rocket fell: Commemorating the 12 children plucked away, two years after the Majdal Shams disaster

18:18, July 27, 2024, at the height of the "Iron Swords" war, when the children of the Druze village of Majdal Shams in the Golan Heights went out to spend time and play on the soccer field and the nearby playground, an air raid siren filled the air. Within a few seconds, a heavy rocket launched by Hezbollah landed at the site. When the dust settled, the scale of the disaster was revealed: 12 families lost their most precious loved ones. Another 34 children and teenagers were injured. A nearby stone wall, which collapsed from the force of the blast, likely saved the lives of other children who were hiding behind it.

Two years later, the pain is still as strong as on that terrible day, and the stone wall stands at the center of the commemoration question. Ibrahim Ibrahim, the father of the late Ghiwara, who was 10 years old when he died, led a struggle against all the responsible parties so that the wall that saved many lives would remain standing in the memorial park established around the impact site, which includes an amphitheater and a new soccer field.

"I would have preferred the original field to remain, said Ibrahim. To be divided in two so that I could see children running and playing and feel Ghiwara among them, instead of coming only to shed tears. Of course, I appreciate the work put into the monument."

Ultimately, two years after the disaster, the memorial installation chosen to be designed by architect Zvika Pasternak, who arrived in Majdal Shams after gaining extensive experience in designing prominent installations in the Gaza envelope communities, will be unveiled today in the center of the park. Among them, among others, is the "Letter and Name" installation in Kfar Aza in memory of the 64 murdered, and the "Bibas Traces" installation in Tze'elim.

"When I took on the design of the environmental installation, I knew that the impact crater where the rocket hit would be a focused point in its area, and around it would stretch a large memorial park designed by others, said Pasternak. When I approached the work, I set for myself the principles that would guide me: to preserve the crater and through it to illustrate, in a restrained, clear, and empathy-evoking way, the moment of impact and its power. Ultimately, what the malicious rocket left behind, which plucked the lives of children at the beginning of their lives, is a small hole in the ground."

That hole reflects the hole that opened in the hearts of each of the parents of the 12 children who were plucked in the prime of their lives. Dalia, the mother of 10-year-old Ghiwara Ibrahim, went through paralyzing anxiety when her son was defined as missing for about 24 hours, and only after a second DNA test was the bitter news received and it turned out that Ghiwara was gone. Nesma, the mother of 12-year-old Johnny Ibrahim, has experienced every passing day since as if it were a heavy mountain, as she tries to hold the house together amidst the sadness and anger and continue to function as a mother. The memory of the moments when she ran to identify her son that terrible evening does not let go of her. Dalal, the mother of 15-year-old Hazem Abu Saleh, was forced to close the daycare for infants she operated because she could no longer function. Emily, the mother of 11-year-old Naji Halabi, who was the anchor of the family, also carries with her the weight of the moment he went to play soccer, when she realized she didn't even have time to say goodbye to him. Lina, the mother of 10-year-old Milar Alshaer, who was the youngest child killed, was left with the little letters he wrote to her. Diana, the mother of 12-year-old Izal Ayoub, who was an only daughter among nine sons, hoped that no family in the world would ever know such bereavement pain for her angel who loved basketball. Dalia, the mother of 16-year-old Fajr Abu Saleh, always reminds that these children were not warriors, but simply children who loved life, and the price they paid is inconceivable. Inaya, the mother of 11-year-old Vanis Safadi, carries the chilling memory of her husband, the medic, who stood at the scene, grieving the loss of his daughter and continuing to save other children. Nasrin, the mother of 11-year-old Yazan Abu Saleh, recalls his last words before he went to the field when he wished in a chilling way that he was going to the "last half." Mona, the mother of 15-year-old Nazem Saab, grieves his return to the field after a month of illness for his first and last day. Ramia, the mother of 16-year-old Amir Abu Saleh, deals with the loss of one son while her second son was seriously injured in the same terrorist event. Naila, the mother of 11-year-old Alma Fakhr al-Din, sees her late daughter as a leader and an icon who awakened something deep in people's hearts.

The installation unveiled today in the center of the memorial park includes a rusted metal bowl with a diameter of 1.65 meters that reconstructs the impact crater. The bowl was produced in a metal workshop in the artists' village of Aniam in the Golan, by cutting and welding dozens of metal triangles to create a three-dimensional structure, with the rusted metal recalling the material from which the rocket is made. Around the metal crater, a concrete surface is cast, in which 12 concrete tiles are embedded, on each of which the names and ages of the murdered children are engraved in Hebrew, Arabic, and English. The paths in the park were designed so that they all meet at the crater point and direct visitors to bow their heads and look at the names.

According to Pasternak, "I never feel that I finish a work, because I am never complete and I feel that I am abandoning the work. But here, I understand that this is the nature of the work — that it is not complete, it is not unequivocal, it only hints, and already everyone gives a different interpretation and in this is its power, I hope."

Pasternak concludes his words and says: "The moment Ibrahim cried out not to destroy the remnant of the wall and we changed the design because of it — was the hardest moment, but it was also the most educational moment, to belong to the place and the community. With the planning and design of the work, I will also cherish this moment, and I thank Ibrahim and all the families who granted me the mitzvah to commemorate their beloved loved ones. It was a privilege."