The Banality of Atrocity

There was nothing ominous about that Wednesday morning on March 2003, nothing to indicate the horror that followed. Yosi, Yuval’s father, woke Yuval at 06:30, and like any other day, gave him a warm morning hug.
The sun was already out on that cold winter day, the sky was blue, scattered with little white clouds.

Yosi suggested that Yuval wear a light coat over his school’s uniform. Yuval sat down to eat his favorite breakfast – Cocoa cereal with milk. He was wearing long blue sweat pants, a black shirt and a green overcoat
He was also wearing the new blue sneakers his parents bought him three days ago in Eilat, where they all went together on vacation.

While he was eating, his mother came to say goodbye and hurried out to catch her ride to work. She never imagined that this would be the last time she would ever see him. Yuval picked up the yellow-cheese sandwich that was neatly waiting for him on the table, put it in his school bag, gave his father a hug and a kiss and said smiling: “see you in the afternoon!”.

A father’s gaze followed his child’s little figure all the way down the path leading out to the world. As he was watching his son, Yosi couldn’t help feeling so proud.

Yuval went out of sight behind the shrubs and was heading towards the bus station, while his father got back to his business.

Everything looked normal.Yet not everything was.

At that same time, a vicious killer named Mohammed Kowassma left his village, Abu-Diss, near Jerusalem. He was wearing a detonator belt around his waist. Somehow that previous night, with unbearable ease, he had managed to pass a security roadblock and was now riding a truck towards his hideous mission:

DESTINATION: Haifa

TARGET: A bus full of people, preferably children.

At the same time, now not so far away, the pupils of Grade 8 at Re’ali Junior High School continued their busy schedule. The English lesson has just ended and the Math lesson was about to begin. At the end of that school day, while the murderous squad was looking for the right bus to blow up, Yuval stayed in school, on his art teacher’s request, to finish the drawing of a funny lion for Purim.

That was why Yuval left a half an hour later that usual and got on that death bus. At 14:05 he got on bus number 37 that was packed with students, can’t wait to get back to his loved, loving home.

Yet he will never get home because the killer is already sitting there, waiting to execute his cruel scheme.
Yuval reaches the back of the bus and sits on the fifth bench from the back, on the right.

It is 14:07
The bus starts moving. After 300 driving meters, Yuval calls his mother and lets her know that he is on his way home. She has no idea that this is the last time she will ever hear that sweet voice.

It is 14:10
Yuval calls his father and lets him know, too, that he is on his way home (He always has to assure those anxious parents of his…). His father tells him that they’ll meet at home in half an hour, and tells Yuval a joke. Yuval laughs. This is the last time Yosi will ever hear that bursting laugh. Yuval ends the call by saying: “Dad! I love you”

It is 14:12:32
This is when Yuval’s wristwatch stopped working since at that exact second the killer activates the detonator belt and the bus explodes. 17 Kilograms of crashing explosives, along with hundreds of small metal balls designed to worsen the impact, spread with great velocity across the bus. Yuval, whose right hand was still grasping the phone, is smashed into the side of the bus; his little body burnt, contorted and suffering while every life system in his body collapses as he painfully dies. His dead left hand slips to the outer side of the bus.

That is what happened on that horrible Wednesday, fifth of March 2003.
EVERYTHING BLUE NOW TURNED BLACK.