this has changed Sydney forever
Idea
At first I thought it was fireworks. But they didn’t stop. It took about 15 seconds for my mind to process what was happening. All hell was breaking loose.
I had reached the northern tip of Bondi just a few minutes ago. It was a hot, humid Sunday and the day was just entering its golden hour. Who doesn’t want to go swimming in the evening?
I was initially contemplating whether to go to Clovelly – it’s less beautiful but easier to find somewhere to leave your car – but when a friend of mine who lives in Bellevue Hill said he wanted to join me, we decided to go to Bondi.
When a parking spot finally opened at the north end of the beach, my friend realized he knew the guy parked right in front of us. “Are you here for the Hanukkah event too?” He asked us after getting out of his car.
If you’re part of Sydney’s close-knit Jewish community, running into someone you know in Bondi is a pretty common experience.
We didn’t know the event was happening; It is a routine security precaution that the locations of Jewish social events are only disclosed hours before they begin. But we told him we’d stop by later and take a look; After all, this is a festival where we celebrate fatty foods, so the idea of a jam-filled donut after dipping sounded great.
But I wanted to get wet first. So we pushed our way through the beach-going crowds towards the sand, and as we passed the park where the festival was held, we caught a glimpse of Hannukiah’s large projected screen – the candelabra illuminating each of the festival’s eight nights.
We quickly threw down our towels and belongings, took off our shirts, and dove into the water. It had cooled down a bit, but it was still exhilarating to dive under a crashing wave and dive into the crystal clear sea water.
A few seconds later the first gunshots were heard. Their voices sounded close; We were 100 meters away. I looked at my friend and realized it wasn’t fireworks, so I thought of the Hanukkah incident. Absolutely not.
We started to look around and slowly started walking towards the shore.
Then we saw people running from the direction of the park. My friend put it in gear and we set off, racing down the trail with hundreds of others.
People were running as far away from the gunshots as possible. At this point they had been going for what seemed like minutes; The longer it went on, the deeper the pit in my stomach sank.
The drummers, who had been making music in a weekly circle on the north end grass for the last few hours, were suddenly cowering in front of the bushes.
Families were rushing their children towards the streets of North Bondi. We all stood there, dripping with salt water, barefoot and sandy, huddled behind garage doors and Art Deco unit blocks.
It was surreal.
At this point, locals had climbed onto balconies and rooftops to watch what was happening, shouting advice to those on the street as the gunshots still rang out.
After what seemed like an eternity, we began to hear the sirens of police and first responders. Gradually the frequency of the shots decreased.
After about five minutes passed without any gunshots being heard, my friend and I began to pull up towards the buildings towards the park and my car, where we could see authorities swarming to the scene.
When I finally got to my car, I could hear my phone vibrating that I had left in the glove compartment. Since then the hum has almost never stopped. Mostly my family and friends were checking to see if I was okay. Other calls were friends telling me they knew people who were injured.
At that point I was still realizing how lucky we were to have avoided the Hanukkah thing.
Driving into the inner west of where I live, there was a steady stream of ambulances going in the opposite direction. I realized my sandals were still on the sand. What a stupid idea.
As adrenaline pumps through your body, it becomes difficult to know exactly what to do after such a situation. Who to call, who to talk to, but most importantly, how to be productive and helpful.
Later, a close friend of mine called me and told me that her fiancée was in the hospital visiting her cousin’s friend who had been shot.
Then it occurred to me. I realized that I wanted to return home as soon as possible before the names of the dead began to be made public.
Who wants to know that someone you know was shot while you were driving down Cleveland Avenue? Shortly after returning, I learned that a friend’s uncle had died.
Certainly an incredibly dark day for Sydney and Australia. But everything seems to have changed for the Jewish community.
I’ve been going to Bondi all my life. This is the suburb where my parents took me home when I was a baby. But now the spiritual home has turned into a bloody wasteland.
Bondi terror attack given more coverage
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Elias Visontay is the National Consumer Affairs Reporter for The Sydney Morning Herald and The Age.Connect via email.
