By the middle of the night in Tel Aviv on Sunday – less than a day into the war with Iran – 13-year-old Ronit was already fed up with being jolted from sleep and having to jump out of bed and throw on clothes before running to her nearby bomb shelter during yet another missile warning.
‘So I made a decision that my mom isn’t too happy about – I’m staying in my PJs until the war ends,’ said the 8th-grade Israeli-American whose parents asked that her last name not be used.
‘Mom’s worried what the neighbors will think. But I’m not. I’m like, who cares how you look in a missile attack?’
Like millions of others throughout Israel, Ronit and her family have been stuck at home since Saturday, dreading the shrill, oscillating howl that is their country’s ‘Red Alert’ missile warning siren.
In Central Tel Aviv, Israel’s second biggest city, alarms sounded 19 times on Saturday, 14 on Sunday, three on Monday and seven on Tuesday, triggered by incoming threats launched from Iran and Lebanon.
Most were intercepted by Israel’s Iron Dome and other missile defense systems, although a few have broken through, killing 10 people.
Whenever the sirens blare, some Israelis simply enter their ‘momads’ – reinforced safe rooms built in their homes and apartments, usually without windows. Residents without mamads rush to various other sorts of shelters with their neighbors.
Ronit and her family live in a 1940s, Bauhaus-era flat, and need to run down the block to a newer building with a first-floor safe space called a ‘mamak.’
A couple whose wedding was canceled due to airstrike‑related bans on public gatherings rescheduled their celebration in the same shopping mall parking lot on Tuesday
People attend a party to celebrate the Jewish holiday of Purim in an underground parking lot in Tel Aviv on Monday
People routinely welcome neighbors, delivery workers, pedestrians, and even strangers into their safe rooms, regardless of whether they are Jewish, Muslim or Christian
‘We’re always the last ones in there,’ she said.
Other Israelis take cover in underground bomb shelters, usually located in the basements of apartment buildings, that in some cases serve their entire streets or neighborhoods.
People routinely allow neighbors, delivery workers, pedestrians and even strangers into their safe rooms, regardless of whether they’re Jewish, Muslim or Christian.
Businesses are expected to let customers and passersby shelter inside. Locking a shared shelter is illegal.
Like Ronit in her Hello Kitty fleece pajamas, bedheaded Israelis in their nightgowns and boxer shorts, blankets and pillows in hand, pack into the tight spaces waiting out the missile strikes together until the sirens stop and the government pings messages that they’re safe to return home.
That typically takes between ten minutes and an hour.
Some try to sleep, do homework or yoga in their shelters. Others play Sudoku or Wordle, or doomscroll the news. Several devout Jews told us they use their time during missile attacks to pray. The less devout said they’ve been singing Bad Bunny songs or playing poker or Cards Against Humanity.
One Israeli artist, Reuven Dattner, draws sketches in his shelter, including one of a man he called an ‘unknown guest’ who popped in during a missile strike on Tuesday afternoon.
Most of the incoming missiles were intercepted by Israel’s Iron Dome and other defense systems, though a few managed to get through, killing 10 people
A man carries the Torah scroll during morning prayers in an underground car park that functions as a bomb shelter during Purim in Tel Aviv on Tuesday
Daily Mail spoke to 13-year-old Ronit and her family as they hunkered down in their mamak – a first-floor safe space in newer buildings. Wearing her pajamas, Ronit said she didn’t care about changing, much to her mother’s chagrin, and declared she would wear them until the war was over
Other Israelis take cover in underground bomb shelters, often located in apartment building basements, some of which serve entire streets or neighborhoods
Many residents in Tel Aviv – a city with one of the world’s highest dog-to-human ratios – bring their pets into bomb shelters, some of which are equipped with astroturf so the dogs can relieve themselves
Most Israelis we interviewed said they also spend much of their time in shelters discussing the same topics they discuss outside of them: their kids and grandkids, their favorite soccer teams, politics and when the war they call Operation Roaring Lion might end.
‘It’s a good way to get to know your neighbors,’ Yaakov Katz, an American-born Israeli journalist and analyst on Israeli military and defense affairs, told the Daily Mail on Tuesday from his home in Jerusalem.
Yaakov Katz, an American‑born analyst on military and defense affairs (with former Secretary of State Mike Pompeo), told the Daily Mail that bomb shelters have become ‘a good way to get to know your neighbors’
Israel’s safe rooms and shelters are typically spare spaces, unfurnished and uncarpeted, and without windows, much ventilation or, often, heat.
Most have no plumbing, although many Israelis stock them with bottled water, camping toilets and mattresses in case users need to spend especially long stints inside of them.
Some in Tel Aviv – which has among the world’s highest ratios of dogs per capita – are even equipped with astroturf for dogs in need of relieving themselves.
Monday evening and Tuesday were Purim, a Jewish holiday much like Halloween, celebrating the survival of the Jewish people from a plot to destroy them in ancient Persia.
The irony wasn’t lost in Israel, which, along with the US, jointly attacked Iran on Saturday morning.
In religious neighborhoods and apartment buildings, many carried out Purim’s traditional reading of the biblical Book of Esther – also known as the ‘Megillah’ – in shelters.
Bomb shelters across Israel have seen frequent use as air‑raid sirens sounded repeatedly in central Tel Aviv, the country’s second-largest city, over the past several days in response to incoming threats from Iran and Lebanon
Israel’s safe rooms and shelters are typically spare, unfurnished spaces without carpets or windows, often lacking proper ventilation and heating
Most safe rooms don’t have plumbing, but civilians will store bottled water and mattresses to sleep on for long stints
Despite being inside a bomb shelter, Jewish men were seen practicing the tradition of reading the book of Esther during the Jewish holiday of Purim on Monday
Many residents in Tel Aviv – a city with one of the world’s highest dog-to-human ratios – bring their pets into bomb shelters, some of which are equipped with AstroTurf so the dogs can relieve themselves
Scores of costumed Tel Avivians performed the ritual packed into the underground parking lot of that city’s Dizengoff Center shopping mall, dancing to the tune of Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I Will Survive.’
‘We all needed an excuse for a party,’ said David Katz – no relation to Yaakov – a tech worker who dressed as the Ayatollah Khamenei, the Iranian supreme leader assassinated in an airstrike on Saturday.
Katz declined to share a photo of himself in costume for fear, he said, ‘of my own assassination by Iran or by my friends in America who don’t support this war.’
A couple, Lior and Misha, whose wedding was cancelled because heightened airstrikes have triggered bans on public gatherings, rescheduled the celebration in that same shopping mall parking lot on Tuesday.
Videos of them and their guests dancing have gone viral in Israel – a testament, some say, to their nation’s resilience.
Single Israelis who had hoped to find love at Purim parties are embracing a new app that helps them do so even while holed up during missile strikes. The Hooked app, developed by Israelis Noa Barazani and Roi Revach, uses bar coding to help singles find each other in bomb shelters.
Israel also built an app that estimates how safe it is to take a shower. It analyzes recent patterns of rocket fire to estimate the safest time of day to bathe, helping Israelis avoid having to run to a shelter, soaking wet and covered in soap.
Ronit, for her part, is bummed to be the only kid in her shelter.
Singles in Israel are turning to the Hooked app, developed by Noa Barazani and Roi Revach, to meet others even while sheltering during missile alerts
Scores of costumed Tel Avivians packed into the underground parking lot of Dizengoff Center mall, performing the ritual and dancing to Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I Will Survive’
Bride and groom, Lior and Misha, were married in Dizengoff Center’s underground bomb shelter on Tuesday
‘Everybody’s so, I mean, so boring,’ said the middle-schooler who passes her time during missile strikes texting friends from school and dance class.
Meanwhile, many Israeli Muslims have been forced to have their iftar meal, breaking the daily Ramadan fast at sundown, in bomb shelters.
One of them, health care worker Rima Hattab, and her extended family hunkered down in Haifa with Jewish neighbors they have been sheltering with through, as she described it, ‘more wars than I care to count.’
‘We are, unfortunately, very used to this,’ she told us by phone on Tuesday as she headed into the protected room for what she estimated was the fifth time that day.
With her, she took a violin, which she plays for the Jews and Muslims, young and old, pro-war and anti-war residents of her building, some of whom also bring their own instruments.
‘We try, all of us, to make beauty out of this unbeautiful time,’ Hattab said. ‘If we cannot always make peace, we can at least make music together.’