'It can be turned into moments of real connection'

In Israel’s shelters, an ‘underground’ entertainment scene is born under missile fire

In typical Israeli style, entertainers, DJs and musicians make the most of a tough situation and distract residents sheltering from Iranian bombardment; social media channels spread the word

It was in the first week of the war that Shaked Bitton, a content creator from Kibbutz Palmachim, stacked fluffy pancakes on a tray, scattered them with sliced strawberries and blueberries, drizzled them with maple syrup, and served them at his neighborhood bomb shelter, just as a siren had sounded warning of an incoming Iranian strike.

“You could actually see the shift — people stopped waiting anxiously for a missile strike and started waiting for pancakes,” said Bitton, who later posted a video of the shelter pancake snack on his Instagram feed.

As the US-Israel war with Iran grinds on, Israelis are marking four weeks of sirens and cellphone alerts blasting warnings of incoming missiles from Iran or Lebanon.

When those alerts sound, people head for shelter. For many, that can mean the neighborhood bomb shelter or communal basement of an apartment building, as well as parking garages and underground train stations.

With so much time being spent underground, some shelters have become sites of communal experiences, from Purim parties and megillah readings during the first week of the war, to a wedding that was very publicly celebrated four stories beneath Tel Aviv’s Dizengoff Center.

“It can be turned into moments of real connection, even in the most unexpected places, like bomb shelters,” said Bitton, who has now served desserts in more than a few shelters.

His most famous shelter dessert yet was a giant tiramisu, following the global trend of preparing the creamy Italian dessert to fill an entire refrigerator drawer.

Once the 10-kilogram (22-pound) tiramisu was ready, Bitton stuck it on the back of his bicycle, waited for an alert, and rode over to Gan Ha’Ir, a Tel Aviv mall with a massive underground shelter that fits several hundred people.

“My neighborhood shelter was too small,” said Bitton, “so I looked for a bigger one.”

Birthday and bachelorette parties, CrossFit, Zumba, and yoga classes have become de rigeur at shelters around the country, as well as judo lessons and pilates classes, machines included.

People look for respite as well as distractions, especially when they spend hours a day running to the same shelter, often with the same people.

For entertainers and those who seek to entertain, the captive audience of a shelter offers opportunities.

Singer-songwriter Lihi Toledano decided to perform in a train station after her upcoming show at the Barby Tel Aviv club was canceled due to the war.

Dressed in sweats and slides, Toledano walked into the station, where a crowd gathered around.

“It’s better than not getting to perform at Barby,” wrote Toledano on her Instagram profile. While many people began recording her, one man continued sleeping on his mattress, turned away from the impromptu performance.

“The show must go on!” wrote Toledano.

Other entertainers, like Moria Zrachia, a choreographer and content creator who has garnered a fierce following with videos of her mother, Hamda Zrachia, and the beloved daycare she runs in her home, convinced her neighbors to lip synch and perform the always-popular Teapacks song, “What A World!” in their building’s bomb shelter.

“Since we were going down to the shelter 30 times a day, everyone kept on saying to me, ‘C’mon Moria, it’s boring here, do something to raise our spirits,'” said Zrachia.

Last Saturday was cold and rainy, and at some point, Zrachia told her neighbors, “Okay, let’s do this,” she said.

She got them to go downstairs to the shelter, in between alerts and sirens, “and they cooperated and did everything I asked, and I felt like I was a counselor organizing an activity at the Scouts,” said Zrachia.

Dressed in their bathrobes, slippers and pajamas, seated in the narrow, rough concrete space, Zrachia’s neighbors danced and boogied their way through the song.

Zrachia lives in Kiryat Shalom, Tel Aviv’s southernmost neighborhood, where her father was raised and where she knows many of her neighbors.

Her building is small, with four floors, two apartments on each floor, and “a tiny” bomb shelter in the basement for the residents of all eight apartments.

After the video was posted, the media came calling, “and their heads are in the clouds now,” said Zrachia of her neighbors, “they’re being interviewed, they’re like peacocks strutting around.”

Whether the shelter is one of the massive ones under the Dizengoff Center, or a private building basement shelter intended for residents, people keep sharing pictures of hair appointments and flamenco performances, speed dating events, quartet performances, and impromptu coffee kiosks, as well as what seems like nightly raves held underground.

Eilam Kadar, an aspiring DJ, ended up hosting an impromptu party in his local shelter in Tel Aviv’s Florentin neighborhood.

“We did something spontaneous down below with a few friends — not anything big — and then, by chance, there was a siren,” said Kadar. “Then everyone came down, and the place was packed.”

Eventually, however, one of the neighbors called the police, and they had to shut down the party.

“Until then, though, the vast majority of people really enjoyed it,” said Kadar. “It was more fun than most clubs.”

When rapper and satirist Ori Komay, known by his persona Dudu Faruk, showed up at a shelter and performed, he posted it on Instagram, announcing a small performance on March 26, open to just 50 people, according to Homefront Command instructions.

“I organized a performance, with a safe room at the space, link in my bio,” wrote Faruk.

He’s calling it “Dudu Faruk protects from missiles and mortars.”