After months of being evacuated from Shlomit, residents of the small, closely-knit community on the border with Gaza and Egypt finally returned to their homes with the help and reassurance of Jewish National Fund-USA. Among the 500 residents who joined the returning convoy were four young women and their combined 15 children who paid the ultimate price on October 7, when their husbands died defending nearby Israeli communities from murderous terrorists. But for Nehama Bibi, Dana Cohen, Nehora Swid, and Tzofia Chicheportiche, there was an unwavering determination to return to Shlomit despite the overwhelming challenges they now face.
Single-handedly Built Their Home
On the morning of October 7, Nehora Swid hastily ushered her three young daughters, the youngest just three years old, into the safe room of their home’s shelter as rockets from Gaza relentlessly bombarded the region. Her husband, 32-year-old Bechor, a member of Shlomit’s first-response security team, assessed the escalating situation with trepidation.
“I’ve never felt particularly threatened despite living just 700 meters from the border,” she said. “But that morning’s attack was ominous from the outset. I immediately felt the onset of war.”
We know now that the missile barrage served as a diversion, enabling 3,000 Hamas terrorists to breach the border and unleash a rampage of murder, rape, mutilation, and pillaging, resulting in 1,200 casualties and over 250 abductions.
After learning about the terrorist infiltration in the nearby community of Pri-Gan, Shlomit’s team mobilized to help the mostly elderly, unarmed population. Bechor didn’t think twice about joining the team.
“He gave me a quick hug and rushed out to help without a second thought,” Nehora recounted.
For three agonizing days, Bechor’s whereabouts remained unknown. His car was eventually found riddled with bullets, and it was clear that he had physically struggled with the murderers until the very end.
The couple met at a mutual friend’s wedding almost 12 years ago and married in their early twenties. “He was my best friend, my anchor, and that morning, he just disappeared forever,” said Nehora.
Bechor single-handedly constructed the entire second floor of the family home, where they intended to settle shortly after the Sukkot holidays.
When the community was given the green light to return to Shlomit, Nehora wasted no time. “I believe that Bechor prepared the house for us just before he died,” said Nehora. “This isn’t just a house. It’s our sanctuary. It’s something that we built together. I sense his presence everywhere – in the kitchen he built, in the garden he designed. How could I ever leave here?”
Last Moments Etched in Her Memory
Nechama Bibi’s husband, Oriel, was a combat officer in the IDF paratroops but had been studying emergency medicine at Ben Gurion University for the past two years. Nechama sees these years as a precious gift to the family who got to enjoy quality time together before he was murdered on October 7 on his way to his army base to collect his weapon.
The morning of that fateful day is etched in Nechama’s memory. She recalls his frantic rush from the synagogue, him opening the door of the saferoom where she was huddling with the children, his silhouette in the doorway lit up by the light from behind, and his tallit (Jewish prayer shawl) still on his head from the service.
Minutes later, Oriel set out towards his base, only to be ambushed by terrorists near Kibbutz Be’eri. Despite sustaining a fatal wound, he abandoned the car and escaped on foot. His kippah and body lay 150 meters apart on the road.
After being evacuated, she stayed briefly with her parents and then moved with the children to the hotel where the rest of the community was housed. She needed to be surrounded by familiar faces and people who knew and loved Oriel.
But Nechama is happier to be home in Shlomit, back to the children’s regular routines. She is determined not to bow to the fears that followed after October 7. “I won’t allow the terrorists to break our spirit,” she said. “So many people died so that we could continue to live here.”
The Bibis lived in a caravan for four years before moving into their permanent home in August 2023, just two months before tragedy struck.
“It was hard for me to return to the house after his death,” she said. “I was worried that it was so new that it still didn’t feel like a home, and we don’t have many memories with him as a family in this house.”
However, Nechama is also determined to create new memories with her family. She recently bought a piano so that they can make music whenever they want. She has also vowed to turn all of Oriel's dreams for them as a family into reality.
“He’s getting his outdoor kitchen!” she said with a bittersweet smile.
He’s With Us at Every Turn
Tzofia Chicheportiche always harbored an ominous premonition of the death of her husband Reuven, commander of Shlomit’s security team, the man she was married to for 15 years and the father of her four children. “I lost my best friend,” she said with heartbreaking simplicity.
On the morning of October 7, Reuven left the village to help the infiltrated Pri-Gan community, where he fought Hamas terrorists shoulder to shoulder with his best friend, Aviad Cohen before he was shot and killed. They died a minute apart.
“Even though we went through an ordeal, it was inevitable that I’d return home,” Tzofia reflected. “Stepping through that door, I felt his comforting embrace at every turn.”
“Reuven loved the land of Israel with all his heart,” she said. “He and the others that died that day left home because they were needed. They answered the call of those desperate for help. They didn’t die in vain.”
The Community is an Integral Part of Our Healing
Dana Cohen, a resilient mother of six, endured countless rounds of conflicts during her 18 years in the Eshkol region, but she never experienced anything like the morning of October 7. Aviad helped Dana calm the frightened children, parted from his wife with a hug, and left to help defend Pri-Gan, where he, too, met his death.
“My heart has been shattered into a million pieces,” said Dana. But at the same time, it’s filled with pride for this man who was so full of life and generosity—this man whom I loved for 18 wonderful, loving years.”
Dana and the children returned home as soon as they could. “Our home is our anchor,” she said. “Every corner accentuates the loss but also provides stability.”
She also praised the strong community that surrounds them. “They are an integral part of the healing process,” she said.
Dana echoes the message that all four widows want to send—that their men believed in the unity of Am Israel and that we should not let our differences divide us.
“Am Israel is one,” said Dana. “Look how much love and unity this war brought out in us. We cannot allow the enemy to divide us.”
There yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
The two biggest factors affecting displaced residents of the South’s decision to return home are security and education. That’s why Jewish National Fund-USA, leveraging its decades-long relationship with communities throughout the South, has been leading efforts to provide essential civilian protective equipment to southern Israeli towns while investing in materials and programming that allow schools in the South to reopen.
Through its Israel Resilience Campaign, the organization has raised over $60 million to support efforts to build and remediate the brave communities Bibi, Cohen, Swid, and Chicheportiche call home. Over 3,500 American volunteers have traveled to Israel to help repair their homes, parks, playgrounds, and common areas.
United like never before, Israel and the Jewish diaspora are ensuring that the memories of these women’s husbands, as well as their own valor, will live on forever as they return home, defiant to bring light into this world for generations to come.
This article was written in cooperation with JNF-USA