Home, Sweet Home?

 The first thing you might notice about the Leonardo Plaza Hotel in downtown Jerusalem are the school buses parked in the loading circle outside. Security is tighter than it was before the war, and as usual, the massive lobby is spotless, smelling pleasantly of spa products.

 The next thing you might notice is a small memorial table with candles, photos of the kidnapped and the fallen, Israeli flags and information about Kfar Maimon and Tushiya, communities whose residents have taken up residence at the Leonardo.

 

The hotel is booked to capacity. However, eighty percent of the guests are refugees from the two moshavim, which were hard-hit by Hamas’s savage Oct. 7 attack. The other 20% are the usual array of hotel tourists and guests.

 

Sigal, one of the community organizers lodged at the Leonardo, along with her husband and two children, longs to return home but realizes that right now that’s impossible. Many of the communities’ homes were damaged or destroyed during the attack, and so far, only farmers and security teams have returned.

 

“While it’s nice to stay in a hotel, living in one room is hard for the children,” said Sigal, a holistic therapist by profession. “From the beginning, we all had to deal with shock, and we had to create an emotionally supportive environment for the children. Social workers from Jerusalem’s municipality were brought to us. I tell people to look at the positive—what a privilege to be housed here in Jerusalem!”

 

On the day of the attack, Sigal didn’t know what was happening. There were no sirens. They heard shooting and were warned to go into lockdown. She thought perhaps a terrorist had broken into the village. 

 

Little did she know that approximately 60 terrorists had infiltrated and were deployed in the cemetery of Kfar Maimon. The story might have ended differently if the terrorists hadn’t tried to shoot down an Israeli Air Force helicopter, which was headed elsewhere but instead descended and engaged the terrorists, eventually stopping the attack.

 

At the hotel, a guest rolls a carry-on, an M-16 assault rifle slung over his shoulder. At the bottom of the spiral staircase, the dining room fills up with children on their way to school, sporting colorful backpacks.   

 

Ortal Noah Moalam, CEO of the Leonardo Plaza Jerusalem, gets her first hug of the day from a 9-year-old girl bedecked in a sparkling pink rucksack. She said it is one of many greetings she gets each day from grateful children from the south, who always stop by to say hello.

 

“We receive significant support from the Jerusalem Municipality and the Jerusalem Development Authority,” explained Moalam. “They assigned a representative who arrives at the hotel every morning and assists families with everything they need, from support in all matters, education, planning and implementing recreational activities, psychological services, therapy and more.”

 

She added that in addition to supporting the promotion of the hotels, the Jerusalem Development Authority will help transition Jerusalem hotels back to serving the 5 million tourists expected in 2024 as the tourism industry recovers.

 

Donations poured in, and Moalam stockpiled and distributed them methodically, creating a free “store” for evacuees. “The people from the south were not used to winter in Jerusalem,” recounted Moalam. “They came in short sleeves and had no warm clothing.” Toys came in for the children. She gave them out slowly so as not to deplete the supply before Chanukah.

 

Three months later, the families have established routines and have celebrated life events—working the community into a cohesive family. Men go to war or to work. Women take care of the children.  Some are paid to teach or maintain the nursery schools. Others volunteer in the hotel. One 80-year-old resident said, “I’m old and I can’t do much, but I can read stories to the children.”

 

Rivik Boim is the emergency spokesperson for Kfar Maimon. She was on the team that informed people to lock down on Oct. 7. The mother of seven recently celebrated her son’s wedding at the Leonardo after the venue they had booked was shut down because of the war.  

 

“We had the chuppah here in the lobby, and dinner and dancing downstairs,” she recalls joyfully as she gently rocks her one-month-old granddaughter in the carriage. “She was born to my daughter who is also living at the hotel,” she said. The December wedding was scaled back from 450 to 200 people, as most of the couple’s friends were in the army.

 

 While no one knows exactly how long the evacuees from the north and south will remain in hotels, it is hoped that most will be back in their villages sometime within the first quarter of 2024.”