Yossi Vahab, 65: Motorcycle enthusiast loved to explore the land

Yossi Vahab, 65, from Kibbutz Nir Oz, was murdered in his home on the kibbutz on October 7 by Hamas terrorists.

His family said he was hiding out in his home’s reinforced room, holding on to the handle to prevent the terrorists from breaking in, with his gun in the other hand. But Yossi was outnumbered by the Hamas gunmen, and killed on the spot. His wife, the family said, was saved by a miracle, as the terrorists decided to leave after killing Yossi and not go inside.

He was buried on October 31 in Kibbutz Beit Guvrin. He is survived by his wife, Estela, their children Shahar, Natali and Omer and grandchildren Regev, Rotem and Noah.

According to a kibbutz eulogy, Yossi grew up in Holon and met Estela — an Argentinian immigrant — at Kibbutz Beit Nir as part of a group of youth pioneers. The couple wed in 1981 and settled first in Holon for more than a decade, during which Yossi worked as an Egged driver.

That work, the kibbutz said, “birthed his love for the vistas of the land and its heritage,” which he regularly explored during motorcycle trips around the country. On those trips, which he led with a local motorcycle club, “he insisted on visiting memorial sites for Israel’s wars.”

After moving to Nir Oz in the early 1990s, he worked in a number of different areas, including agriculture as well as community management and economic oversight, “and in all of them he stood out for his diligence and perseverance.” He was also an amateur photographer, the kibbutz added, snapping “beautiful photos which testified to his sensitivity and love for the views and the people.”

A week before he was killed, Yossi bought a new motorcycle, which he barely had a chance to ride. On the day of the Hamas attack, Gazan looters stole the bike and brought it to the Strip.

Yossi’s friend Moshe Tal told the Kan public broadcaster, “Anything you can say about Yossi wouldn’t come close to what he really was. He was so much more. Love of the land, love of life, love of the kibbutz.”

His son Omer told Kan that “what made him wake up every morning with a smile on his face was the knowledge that on the weekend he would get on his motorcycle and take the country by storm.”

At his funeral, his daughter Natali said every weekend she would say she was tired and wanted to stay home, and her father would say “go out and travel, live a little. And then you’d start a dramatic and flowery description of the best trip you’d ever taken, with the most beautiful sunset, the most unique spring, and the funniest friends.”

His son, Shahar, a photographer, wrote in Israel Hayom that he picked up his love of the camera from his father. At his funeral, “friends eulogized him by recalling the camera that was always with him, documenting everything,” he wrote. “Thank you, Dad, for the love of photography, which was and still is a part of me all my life.”

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