Sunday was a beautiful day in Bondi. My dad had been visiting me from the US for three weeks, staying in my North Bondi apartment for a week while I was away. He had loved Bondi’s promenade, waking every morning to stroll it and heading out again at sunset. I was sad he’d left that morning and was missing the nice weather and evening stroll he no doubt would’ve taken.
After spending the day at Bondi — at the Bondi Markets, with friends before they took a family Santa photo in front of the North Bondi Surf Life Saving Club, and on the beach in North Bondi — I’d met my friend and her fiancé at North Bondi Headland to film an engagement video for them. We’d finished after about 30 minutes and were walking along Ramsgate Avenue. I could’ve turned to go back home but decided to continue walking with them. I said I’d walk them to the end of the street.
We were at the top of the Grassy Knoll when we started hearing what we thought were fireworks. I joked that my friend’s fiancé had organised them for her and started getting my camcorder out of my bag to film it. But I couldn’t see any fireworks. The loud popping sounds kept coming. The Grassy Knoll overlooks the beach, so we started seeing everyone on the promenade running.
My friend’s fiancé sprang into action, telling us to run too and go to my apartment. My body went cold as we started sprinting. Even as I was running, I still thought it was fireworks, but of course, we wanted to be safe. My friend’s partner echoed my thoughts, “It sounds like it’s definitely fireworks, but let’s just go to yours to be safe,” he said as we ran.
In my apartment, I started messaging my Bondi friends’ and apartment building’s WhatsApp chats. We opened my kitchen windows and the three of us gathered by my sink to try to see what was happening. You can see the beach from my apartment, but mostly South Bondi and from a distance, so we couldn’t see much. The “fireworks” kept going for about another five minutes — we could hear them loudly through my window.
No one in my chats knew what was going on. I checked the ‘On Scene’ Bondi Facebook group – nothing. But I could hear everyone running outside and police car sirens, more and more of them, so I knew something was off. From the window, we heard someone say something about a shooting at a Jewish festival. The “fireworks” had stopped.
Finally, we saw a news report that there was a shooting in Bondi. I was getting forwarded videos and photos in my WhatsApp chats. One image was terrifying: it showed people huddled at the shore break together. About 15 minutes after I got home, I started getting texts from people asking if I was okay. I started to get so many that I shared messages on Instagram and Facebook; it felt reckless to let people worry about me, when I was safe.
From my apartment, we continued hearing the sirens and then choppers started circling, one of them with a loudspeaker saying they were emergency services and ordering everyone to leave the area. My friend and I stood on my bed to see from my windows over the trees all the flashing lights. The cars were lined all along Campbell Parade. We started hearing about people sheltering in restaurants, or locked inside the local Woolworths or North Bondi Surf Life Saving Club.
My friends were staying in central Bondi, and around 9pm, started to wonder if it was safe to go home yet. They decided to wait until our friend sheltering at Rocker, a restaurant down the street, confirmed she was released. Eventually, she was, and my friends — after checking I was okay to be alone — left.
I barely slept. I saw a Jewish friend’s Instagram Story of her husband posing with the rabbi who tragically lost his life earlier that day. I messaged her to see if she was okay. She’d left the festival with her husband and two young kids before the shooting had started, but friends of hers who remained behind told her of jumping in front of their kids to protect them.
This morning, walking down Brighton Boulevard in North Bondi to go to my local café, I felt like I was walking in a nightmare. Campbell Parade, just past the North Bondi Bus Depot, was closed off. Inside the café, everyone looked sombre. I saw people hugging. I felt like crying, but I haven’t yet.
I can’t believe this happened in beautiful Bondi. My heart feels physically heavy learning more about the people affected and those who still feel unsafe this morning. I’m scared of saying something that won’t properly encompass the sadness, anger and scare people are experiencing right now. So I won’t. I can only share my experience and say I am so, so sorry to everyone affected. My heart hurts incredibly for you.
Image: Supplied
The post ‘My Body Went Cold’: What I Saw Last Night In Bondi As The Terror Attack Unfolded appeared first on PEDESTRIAN.TV .
