Eviatar (Tari) Kipnis

Tari was born on February 24, 1958, in Kibbutz Ma’agan Michael. His father, Doron (Donny) Kipnis, was a native of Tel Aviv who came with the Israeli Scouts to Ma'agan Michael to establish the kibbutz. His mother, Ofra, immigrated to Israel from Tunisia. He was a brother to Avner (Kippi), who is eleven years older than him, to Guy, who is five years older than him, and Zefra, who is a year and a half younger than him.

Tari grew up in the old-fashioned communal children's house and could easily connect with people. He would call out to the guard of the children’s home in the wee hours of the night: “Hey sleepy heads, come play with me, blow up a balloon for me.” Even if they were tired, the guards couldn’t say no to him. So they would get up to spend time with him.

Tari had a lazy eye, which made him stand out. From the age of three, he alternated between wearing glasses and an eye patch. He was remembered as someone who walked around the kibbutz with his head always tilted slightly up, as if he were trying to read the world. As a very active child, he didn’t care much for formal studies at school, but he absolutely loved the sea. The older he got, the more that love grew. As for that eye, it must have been the only lazy part of his body. After all, Tari was always busy and knew how to do almost anything with his talented hands. The strong handshake, which was his trademark, attested to that fact.

As a boy, when the sea was the center of his world, he was an initiator and a guide, bringing excitement and life to any event, no matter what setting: camps, cruises, training, rowing, and diving. At the same time, Tari worked in various branches of agriculture. He was always loved by children and was naturally accepted as a leader. He always endorsed peace and reconciliation, avoiding quarrels, disputes, and harm. Upon his enlistment in the IDF, he was assigned to the Armored Corps, but he persisted, as only Tari knew how to persist, until he joined the Navy. From there he fulfilled his dream: becoming a naval officer.

Tari arrived at the long-awaited naval officer course with his “brother” from the kibbutz, the late Oren Linder, who was a charismatic leader himself. All the way from Ma’agan Michael to that course, Oren and Tari were born, grew up, dreamed, and fulfilled their dream together. Tari had a quiet, introverted leadership style. He would be the first one under the stretcher, without question, always true to the task. He was the one you could trust, and with whom any task could be executed successfully. Tari turned out to be a real sailor, as well as a professional in anything he did, such as being a skipper, kayaker, and diver.

The sea surely carries many of Tari's secrets, but there was that one night, which none of his teammates could forget, when two weapons sank into the middle of the sea and Tari did not give up until he managed to find them. Along with those weapons, which he drew out of the sea, Tari also acquired the honor of finishing with the 19th class of naval officers. From there, he went on to study goldsmithing at Bezalel which, at first, he did not choose, but eventually he embraced this field as if it was his decision. He took much pride in his thesis: a series of kitchen knives that garnered him much praise, even from Chef Israel Aharoni, who used them until their last sharpening and then asked for more. The sea was also Tari's groomsman: on one of the many voyages he went on, after his release from the army, he met Lilach, and they fell in love. They built their shared home in 1993 on Kibbutz Be’eri. Their two sons were born there: Yotam and Nadav.

Tari transitioned from goldsmithing to repairing old watches, becoming the person to turn to for anyone who had something in their possession that required special or painstaking repair. He later worked at the kibbutz printing house, leading the implementation of the most up-to-date equipment which contributed to perfecting the work flows and capabilities of the printing house. After completing his master's degree in sustainability at the University of Haifa, he dedicated himself to environmental issues, as part of his role as a "community manager" — first in Be’eri, then in Kfar Azza as well as in Kibbutz Zikim.

He was deeply enthusiastic and curious, always wanting to explore and learn more and more. He expected the same from his boys, Yotam and Nadav, whom he sometimes challenged with character-building questions, trying to find what interests them, and also encouraging them to find the answers on their own and in their own way. He had acquired vast knowledge on his own, which he shared generously. You could ask Tari any question on any subject and in any field. He was a walking encyclopedia, knowledgeable about the heavenly bodies, nature, and everything in between: When will the moon rise? How does a lock work? What did Darwin discover in the Galapagos? How do you know the speed of light?

He was a man of principles, who knew how to stand up for his opinions and say them directly and sometimes with a lack of tact that could lead to embarrassment. Nevertheless, his integrity and natural curiosity along with his warmth and love aroused sympathy and many smiles.

On the kibbutz, he was active in the Residential Emergency Team (“Tzachi”), and in various committees, such in the Growth & Development Committee, where he took on an important role supervising the donations to associations that he thought needed help. He volunteered at the "Pa'amonim" [Bells] NGO, becoming a coordinator who helped many people organize themselves and conduct their personal affairs in practical and financially responsible ways.

Tari had no hobbies because whichever field he dove into, he became a professional: for example, after discovering a new interest in coffee, he quickly became an expert, who could identify varieties, types, growing and roasting methods and, of course, he planted two coffee trees near his home.

The home that Tari and Lilach built was warm, open, and inviting. Friends from different periods of their lives came all year round, including, of course, the traditional winter gathering with the friends from the Navy and their families, when everyone would enjoy lying in Be’eri’s famous patches of red anemone flowers. People would come from around the country — including from the surrounding settlements, Rahat, the Bedouin settlements, and West Bank villages — to see those beautiful wild flowers. Majda, a resident of Hebron, was adopted by Tari and Lilach into their circle and, under her leadership, they organized workshops for making stuffed vine leaves, satisfying all of the residents of Be’eri.

Tari was a man of peace, who believed in sharing life: he once donated a special treatment bed to a hospital in Gaza. He was an atheist, abiding by a religion of respect, doing, and giving to others. His heart was open to everyone.

In the last eight years, he suffered from an autoimmune disease. Despite his physical weakness, Tari connected with the strength of the soul within him. His characteristic handshake did not weaken, though his spirit was diminishing. Tari did not give up on his dreams and even managed to go as part of a research expedition to Antarctica. Even when the help of his devoted caregiver Paul was needed, Tari continued to volunteer as a guide for a group of at-risk youth, and went out to sea with them in kayaks. At the same time, he insisted on continuing to help with bicycle repairs at the local shop and, when people would come to the south to see the wildflowers, he would help the kibbutz youth run a hummus stand. He loved children and children loved him. Members of his extended family, especially the youngest ones, were drawn to him like a magic wand. They sat on his lap, hoping to receive his attention, which he shared generously.

Tari also found his way back to art. He set up a studio in his home, where he painted beautiful images of nature, animals, and people. Most of these paintings survived the fire. In the last months before his murder, he watched classic movies with his family, and spent quality time in their company as they recalled past experiences. About a month before the attack, he sailed with Lilach and his sisters on a cruise through the French canals. They returned from that trip exactly a week before his murder. During the trip, Tari was grateful to the people around him for what was given to him, especially for the joy of being together. He appreciated every glass of wine, every song, conversation, and meeting. Tari was happy about the quality time he spent with his loved ones.

Tari hoped to find a cure for his disease and continue with his plans. He was dedicated to his recovery, working every day to get stronger. But it was not the disease that conquered Tari. After long, difficult, and nerve-wracking days of uncertainty, Tari's body was identified. The body of Paul, the devoted caregiver who lived with Tari and Lilach, was found days earlier. As these lines are written, Tari's love, Lilach, is still missing and classified as a hostage.

His friend from the naval officer course, Danny Goldbaum, wrote: "Eviatar Kipnis was a sailor, skipper, professional, man of learning, smart, loving husband, family man, volunteer, strong man, diver, kayaker, coffee lover, with many hobbies, and beloved."

May his memory be a blessing.