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And the Qassams continued, a few on some days, one or none on others. Over the past week, however, Palestinian militants have been targeting the Israeli town of Sderot with scores of rockets, wounding several people and making life miserable for residents. At the same time, the IDF, as of June 15, has not resumed artillery fire as it investigates the beach incident, leaving many Israeli residents under attack to feel the IDF is not doing enough to protect them. Pnina knows that feeling all too well.
And yet she is also aware others are suffering too. She says when she speaks to Palestinian friends inside Gaza, she tells them, "'Stop the rockets.' They say, 'We can't. Someone tried to prevent the terrorists from firing rockets and was shot.'" She adds: "The artillery is hurting us, but I think they suffer more than we do."
Standing in the rubble of what used to be her living room, Safia Ghaben, 36, stares into the corner. "We were right here," she says. The shelling started early on April 10 — several weeks before TIME visited the Ghabens — and again in the afternoon, driving families inside. Safia locked herself, nine of her children and another neighborhood girl in their sturdy, two-floor house, which sits in a patch of farmland ringed by homes and apartments. As shells landed on either side, they scurried from room to room, until a round landed right on top of them.
Hadil Ghaben, 8, was pronounced dead at the hospital. Safia's other children — the eldest 18, the youngest 15 months — sustained multiple shrapnel wounds. Shrapnel also lodged in Safia's stomach but could not be removed because she was then seven months pregnant.
Like the Ragolskys, the Ghabens' case is as bad as it could be, though such tragedies are not uncommon in northern Gaza. In January 2005, an Israeli shell killed seven children as they picked strawberries — the children were related both to the Ghabens and to the family that lost several members to the June 9 beach incident. In late April, another wounded seven people, including two children. Two men, 57 and 60, were killed on consecutive days in early May. In most such cases, Israel expresses regret and asserts it was targeting Qassam sites.
The military's position that it does not bear responsibility for what happened has been contested by Palestinian officials and an investigative team from Human Rights Watch that has been in Gaza this week. But until recently, the IDF has held responsible those militants who fire the rockets, as well as those who own or live near land from which they're fired — a policy human-rights groups decry as a form of collective punishment and a violation of the Geneva Conventions.
Qassams can be launched in minutes; culprits can outrun the response. The shelling is designed not only to kill militants, but also to "instill in people the sense that they have something to lose, in the short-term and the long run," said Kohavi, the army commander. "If they are shooting Qassams from the area, property might be damaged." Israeli security officials are also gravely concerned that miltants are acquiring longer-range, more accurate Kaythusha rockets.
Even before Hamas' military wing abandoned the cease-fire, its politicians who control the Palestinian government called attacks on Israelis "self-defense," and refused to crack down on those who use rocket launchers. Though the IDF has suspended its attacks in the wake of the beach incident, it seems highly unlikely that the Hamas-led government would try to stop Islamic Jihad and others, including their own military wing, from launching rockets; the IDF's air strikes, for one thing, have continued, most recently this past week, when two missiles killed two Islamic Jihad militants — who had with them several Kaythushas — along with seven civilians
Some locals in Beit Layhiya — who fear reprisals if named — have wanted the Hamas-led Ministry of Interior to deploy police in places used as launch sites, but Ministry spokesman Khalid Abu Hilal said, "Whoever wants freedom and an independent homeland has to pay a price for it."
The Ghabens have paid. Safia is bereft. Mohammed, 40, can't summon the energy to work, so his taxi sits idle. Their children, Safia says, repeatedly ask, "How did we survive?" They have recurring nightmares, as does she, including one in which she's covered in dust and can't breathe.
Despite their sorrows, and despite recent events, the Ragolskys and the Ghabens try to carry on. Pnina hopes that Amir will one day return and attend university. She says that people in Netiv Ha'asara still have parties, celebrate anniversaries and take vacations, trying "to live a normal life in an abnormal place." But now, "There's always a shadow on whatever you do."
Unable to afford rent on an apartment, Safia and Mohammed were forced to move back into the shell of their old house. Instead of walls, they have curtains. Mohammed says the only help they get comes from the relief organization Medecins Sans Frontieres. And the recent spike in violence does not suggest that life will get better any time soon.
Still, in April, after Safia lamented their struggles to stay upbeat around their children, her eyes brightened when she said her unborn baby seemed healthy. On May 17, the Ghabens had a little boy. They named him Hadi, which means "quiet."