My parents emigrated from Yemen and arrived to the Rosh HaAyin transit camp. I was born in 1951 and when I was three months old and transit camp’s nursery, my parents were told I had died. When my father arrived and asked to see me, he was told that they were sorry but that she had fallen ill and died. My father replied by saying that alive or dead, he wanted me.

My father was stubborn. He told the nurse he was not going to move and argued with her like this for a few good hours. After a while the nurse told him, follow me and I’ll show her to you. My father asked, isn’t she dead? She said, no. Your daughter was beautiful and we had planned to give her to families who don’t have children.

So that's how very luckily, he managed to get me back. My father learned his lesson and refused to leave me there for treatment and observation. Even when they told him that I was sick, my parents took care of me at home. The most important thing was that I wouldn’t be taken away.

After me another brother was born, Zadok. He was born at home—mom gave birth to all of her children at home—when I was about five years old. We were already living in a housing project in Rosh HaAyin. One of the nurses scolded my mother for giving birth at home like the Arabs. My mother stayed silent and did not respond. After a while Zadok became ill and the hospital he was admitted to told her that her child had died.

My mom was reserved and did not say much about Zadok or even my kidnapping. Zadok my brother was named after my uncle, my mother's brother. I do not know what happened to Zadok, but later a draft notice came for him. After a while they came looking for him. I will not say he was kidnapped, but it's really something that I don’t know.

Sarah Gerame of the Wahab family (Nathan)