Because of the frustration and confusion that often comes with trying to find a specific location in Israel on Apple Maps—and the potentially incorrect translations I rely on—I tried to arrive about an hour early to the start of Shiri, Ariel, and Kfir Bibas’ funeral procession this morning to ensure I made it to the correct spot on time.
I needn’t have worried—a few minutes after walking away from my bus just before 7 a.m., I started spotting somber streams of people all walking in the same direction. I followed their trail of orange balloons, Israeli flags, and handmade posters to the Chevra Kadisha Rishon LeZion site, where a large crowd was already forming.
My fellow intern at The Jerusalem Post, Abigail, was also at the Rishon LeZion gathering.
Silent farewell: A city pauses to mourn and move forward
By Abigail Rubinstein
I arrived at the gathering spot at 7:30, after a short walk in which I had to get out of my community van due to the bumper-to-bumper traffic. By the time I arrived, hundreds of people were already formed in two parallel lines, one on each side of the road. Many of the gathers came alongside their young children.
The atmosphere was quiet, and other than the police trying to clear a way for the smooth drive for the mourners in their vehicles. The only other time someone spoke was in whispers to the others in their immediate area.
The first thing I noticed was an orange flag I had never seen before, imprinted with drawn faces of Shiri smiling while carrying her children. These waving flags of smiling faces surrounded me, as the van with the coffin came by and drove away.
Melancholy hung in the air for a few minutes after the last van drove by, many people just stood in their places. However, after a few minutes, the crowd seemed to have created a consensus as pedestrians took over the road and followed the path of the vans, heads hung low, families clutching onto each other.
I was located near the tail-end of the crowd, giving me the chance to see the juxtaposition of the quiet mourners and the city that was waiting for permission to be reawakened. Drivers idled quietly in their cars on the opposite side of the street, waiting for permission from the police to start their day.
Once given approval, the dispirited city arose when cars began driving on the street, taking over the road through their honking, moving pedestrians back to the sidewalk.
The tailing ended for me as I reached the highway, looking for my group and their van. However, I paused to see a cohort of motorcyclists driving into the city, with bright orange ribbons tied to their handlebars flying with them as they drove.
As I walked on the shoulder of the road, several others followed suit, making their way back to the highway, where traffic was slowed down due to the pedestrians walking. Cars were filed up and down the shoulder of the highway as people made their way back to their vehicles and started the process of going back to their daily lives.
Through my eyes: Capturing a nation’s grief and unity in orange
By Raquel G. Frohlich
At such an event, there is no shortage of things to photograph, but a lot of the time, I felt compelled to keep my camera at my side and watch the moments with my own eyes.
When out photographing, I’m used to automatically looking for what stands out, what is unique, and what grabs one’s attention—such as supporters dressed in orange clothing, interesting signs or artwork, carefully manicured orange nails, or a particularly large collection of balloons. Though some people may have caught more attention than others, the unified crowd represented all of Israel.
After the cars passed through the start of the route, the ever-growing crowd followed the convoy as it made its way down Ahad Ha’am Street—which was lined with beautiful orange fruit trees—and continued on its route.
Once in a while, mourners released their orange balloons into the sky, and it was only once I looked up that I noticed local residents had also gathered in support of the Bibas’, out on their apartment porches, with more balloons, signs, and flags visible from the street.
As the procession was ongoing, the Bibas family released a statement that included the line, “Yarden apologizes for not being able to come and hug each and every one of you,” and from what I felt this morning, every single person along the 95 km. route would have hugged him right back.