We came (to Israel) before the state was established. we lived in “Kerem-Ha’teimanim” neighborhood. My mother died just before my wedding and my husband was also, with no back up. Motherless. I was young and I gave birth in Tel Aviv in 1943.

The boy was as beautiful and healthy as a flower, he may have vomited twice, he was hospitalized and we visited him every day. On the fourth day we were told "he is dead". What do you mean he is dead? Where is his body? We saw nothing, no funeral, no burial, nothing. It requires to be looked into. The boy was like a doll, healthy, three months old, he didn't have teeth yet. My eldest son.

I was still green and young, I received a slap in the face, and I didn't know where the slap came from, and what to do.

Despair, depression, nerves. What did i not suffer?! I would see other children, I would love soulful love and think how it could have been, had i had my child with me.

I do not forgive those who did this, they will receive a sentence of truth up there. This is how the country was established, at the expense of the poor.

When a relative of mine asked my permission, to enter and struggle to look for him on my behalf, I told her - if you find him, I'm even ready for you to receive him as a gift. Just knowing he's alive, just seeing him, is better than the situation today.

I have not told my children anything until now, (summer 2016), all my life I hid it, both me and my husband, so as not to make them despair.

Bracha Binyamin