Twelve months after the Hamas attacks against Israel, 26-year-old Roi Joseph Benaim is still searching for peace—still running, in a way, from the events of that fateful day on Oct. 7. Roi’s journey has taken him far from the music festival in the desert of Israel where the terror unfolded. He traveled to the Bahamas for his job in sales, vacationed in Colorado, visited family in Miami and, just last week, returned to Israel for the second time since the attack. But no matter where he travels to, he can’t run away from the trauma. Even in the Bahamas, far from the Middle East, he often felt like he could still hear the bombs, the screams, and see the horrific images that haunt him.
“This is the issue,” said Roi, who is Jewish and was born in Venezuela, reflecting on his experiences. “I will always remember everything, and I will always see everything.” In particular, he spoke about how white trucks—plentiful in Nassau—triggered memories of that night because those were the vehicles used by the terrorists at the festival, he said “When I see a white truck, I’m always going to duck,” he admitted.
Roi found some comfort during a brief trip to Miami in January. He visited his uncle Moises Benaim and his family, with whom he shares a deep bond forged during his childhood in Venezuela. Moises, who lives in Aventura, has been a pillar of support for Roi over the past year, encouraging him to talk about his experiences to help him process his feelings.
“Every time you talk, it’ll help,” Moises tells him.
But Roi’s journey toward healing is far from over. Though his uncle urged him to speak at schools in South Florida, Roi wasn’t ready.
The physical effects of trauma
The anniversary of the Oct. 7 attacks by Hamas, a U.S.-designated terrorist organization, looms large. Around 1,200 people were killed, and at least 100 were taken hostage during the assault and the subsequent war has left more than 40,000 Palestinians dead, according to the AP. The Hamas attack targeted, among other locations near the Gaza Strip, a desert music festival called Nova. Roi, his brother Or, and their friends had attended the festival, expecting nothing more than music and celebration.
But instead, they found themselves fleeing for their lives. After making little progress in their cars – “it was open fields and after driving 45 minutes, you still didn’t know where you are,” said Roi – the group was forced to run on foot for over six hours, sticking together even amid chaos. When they finally reached their parents’ home, Roi immediately wished he was in the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF). His Crohn’s disease had made him ineligible for military service.
After the attack, Roi left Israel in November 2023 for a work assignment in the Bahamas, hoping for some distance and peace. “I’ve been escaping from home,” he explained. However, the memories of that night continued to plague him, he said, and his health worsened. Stress from the attacks triggered a flare-up of his Crohn’s disease, requiring him to return to Israel in April for surgery where doctors removed two sections of his large intestine. He spent over five weeks in the hospital. “Now I feel a bit better,” he told the Herald on Oct. 4 as he prepared for follow-up medical visits in Israel. In a cruel twist of fate, his return flight to Tel Aviv this week landed just 30 minutes before missiles from Iran flew overhead.
SEARCHING FOR SAFETY
In many ways, Roi’s family has been on a constant search for safety. He moved with his family from Venezuela to Israel when he was 6, partly in response to rising antisemitism in Venezuela under President Hugo Chávez, he said. Roi returned to Venezuela one last time when he was 14 for his cousin’s bar mitzvah. During the festivities, an armed robbery took place in the building. Moises, whose motorcycle was stolen just two weeks earlier, eventually left Venezuela for Miami with his family in 2016.
Roi himself has been on the move, seeking not just geographical safety, but emotional respite from the trauma. His time in the Bahamas provided some relief, and it was during a visit to Miami in January that he took a significant step forward. Accompanied by friends, including a woman he had met in Nassau named Noa, Roi experienced a turning point. Though their relationship was initially platonic, something shifted during that Miami trip. Soon after returning to Nassau, they became a couple. Noa is now in Israel with Roi, offering him support as he continues to heal.
Moises told the Herald that he hopes Roi will spend more time in Miami in the future, where he could help share his story and raise awareness about the lasting impacts of the Oct. 7 attacks. Moises was heavily influenced by the stories he heard from his grandfather (Roi’s great-grandfather), a Holocaust survivor, he said, and he has long believed in the power of storytelling to heal. In Caracas, he documented the stories of more than 15 Holocaust survivors, creating productions based on their experiences, he said.
Now, he hopes Roi can follow in that tradition, sharing his own story with schools and synagogues. But for Roi, the path forward remains uncertain.
After a year spent traveling the world, trying to process the events of Oct. 7, Roi confesses, “I feel closer to Israel.”
And though his job might take him on another assignment to the Caribbean, Roi knows that he can’t outrun his trauma.
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