Ugandan-American Tells of Fateful October Visit to Israel

By Shoshana McKinney

MBALE, Uganda — A tiny country, two thirds the size of Uganda (where I currently live) a brutal war is well underway.

What was supposed to be our first family vacation abroad turned into a scary and bizarre experience studded with stress and anguish.

We arrived in Israel early in the morning of October 5th, 2023. We were tired but excited to taste the delights and take in the sights of this beautiful, ancient country.

We had a list of activities we would enjoy. We had a few friends to reconnect with and business contacts that we wanted to make as well.

Our first few days were in Jerusalem, the capital and soul of the country. Trying the Japanese restaurant, taking the modern light-rail train, pushing our way over crowded and bumpy cobblestone streets. Sipping freshly squeezed pomegranate juice from a smiling fruit stand owner who surprised us with his perfect English.

We stayed in Baka, a neighborhood characterized by champagne colored stone buildings with planted flowers spilling over balconies of ornate ironwork.

The morning of October 7th, started like the days before. We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast at the hotel. After, we wondered how we would occupy our day since it was the Jewish Sabbath and our activities were limited.

Then, the first siren rang. We were bewildered and befuddled but the amazing hotel staff shuffled us into the basement along with the other hotel guests.

In my imagination, this was just another one-day scuffle. Such is what passes for “peacetime” in this part of the world, I thought.

Even when we heard the first rockets from Gaza explode above our heads, my mind was still on the party planned in Tel Aviv and what I was going to wear.

“They killed 200 people ” an Israeli woman sheltering with us gasped over the initial news report from her phone screen. Her head shaking, a trembling hand over her mouth. “They are attacking from Gaza.”

I couldn’t believe it! Had the Gaza border really been breached? Had terrorists really been so successful as to kill as many as 200 people? Impossible! The IDF (Israel Defense Forces) wouldn’t allow such an attack. When the sirens finally stop, we’ll get the corrected reports later tonight.

Hour after hour of sirens and bombs passed in the basement. We were thankful to be sheltering with a nice Chasidic family who shared their food with us. I particularly liked the kube (fried meat dumplings) and the pargiot (grilled spicy chicken thighs). The bomb shelter experience is really improved by kind people with nice food!

Thankfully, the bombs had stopped the next day. At my insistence, my family strolled through the sparsely populated lanes of the Armenian Quarter of Old Jerusalem looking for a small museum that I had fooled myself into thinking would be open.

My heart sank when I saw it was completely closed and that there was very little else that was open. Walking back to the bus station defeated, I enjoyed taking in the shapes of the buildings which I had missed. Just a few days before, it was so lively and crowded. My eyes were too busy dodging other visitors to notice the way the ancient stones shimmer and glimmer in the afternoon sun.

Most days of the trip, bomb sirens and explosions made sure we would stay inside together. My stir crazy toddler would annoy his father by turning every object into a toy or musical instrument. Hour after hour together without enough to do, we all wore each other thin.

On days that the bomb sirens didn’t keep us inside, we would re-connect our phones after coming back to our hotel only to be stunned by yet another disturbing news headline and an increase in the war’s death toll. Remarkable stories of survival and heroism stirred our souls.

Trying to reach for some bit of normalcy, on a day in north Israel without sirens, I took my son to the sea. It was a short downhill walk, few cars were on the road and more than half of the shops were closed. When we reached the soft, beige sand the steady crash of waves greeted us, soothing and smooth. The Mediterranean sea holds every shade of blue. In the shallow clear spots, tiny fish swirl in their schools.

My son thoroughly enjoyed his first ever swim in a sea. I loved watching him splash around. Afterwards, he climbed the spiderweb of ropes in a nearby playground. Local kids let him have turns on their scooters and tricycles. Amid the rip-roar of fighter jets, parents still think taking their kids out for play is important.

One evening as I was getting ready for bed, I heard applause and cheers outside. I looked out the window of the flat to see almost every unit leaning over to wave at the platoon of soldiers walking up our street. Kids and parents raced downstairs to give high-fives, snacks and take selfies with the IDF. The soldiers gave warm hugs back to these kids who were treating them like celebrities.

Each restaurant on the waterfront was closed. “We’re only making food for soldiers” they said.

“But my son needs ice cream. Glida”

I had practiced that most important Hebrew word. They knew that they weren’t going to sell what remained so the restaurant workers gave us the whole one liter carton! They wouldn’t even accept our money when I tried to pay. The generous spirit of Israeli people express the Jewish value of kindness or chesed as it is called in Hebrew.

The last Friday of the trip, I was so frazzled and stressed out. We were at lunch at the one still-open Jerusalem sidewalk café eating shawarma and kebab sandwiches. A nearby shop was playing country singer Alan Jackson’s “That September Day.” I burst into tears. My family members looked at me shocked. The weight of never-ending global jihad was too much to bear on my mental shoulders. I buckled. The kebab however, was delicious.

The war is a true disaster and there is no going back. It won’t stop without a full Israeli victory, and the defeat of Hamas. As scared as I was, I know that the people who have lost loved ones are hurting 100 times more. As deprived of normalcy as I was, they are suffering much more.

The average person of Gaza didn’t get a voice in this war. Hamas made a decision to upend the lives of the Gazan people. Economists say that this war has obliterated two decades of progress from their society. Only Hamas had ultimate power to stop it. If they still exist, Hamas will ruin any future ceasefire deal as they did the to the ceasefire in place on October 6th.

Egypt was still not allowing average Gazans to leave. For a moment, I put myself in the shoes of a mom in Gaza. I would do all I could to get out with my son. Women and young kids are obviously non-combatants. What Islamic brotherhood is that they make excuses for not offering any refuge at all?

Many Jews and friends of Israel want to engage with the social media arguments against Israel. The media information war and propaganda campaigns are just part of the day to day of today’s politics.

But Israelis don’t just see the day to day. They also see their lives as a part of a grand historic epic. A nation reborn, at the edge of Western civilization in the most hostile region in the world. Their survival and success bears the weight of history as well as a divine covenant.

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Shoshana McKinney is a Jewish African-American living with her husband and child near Mbale, Uganda.  She is the executive director of Tikvah Chadasha (New Hope) Uganda.