Our family emigrated from Tunisia in 1951, through France, by boat. My parents, Masood (later hebraized to Eliyahu) and Tzlila (later changed to Haya) Maimon, myself (then seven years old) and my sisters, all settled in Sha'ar HaAliyah. The youngest daughter, called Golda (after Golda Meir), was born in France. My mother held her in her arms while we were travelling and when we reached Israel as well; when we reached Israel, people who awaited us told us that she needed supervision (she was six months old at the time). My father thought he had come to the Jewish state, so maybe people really were concerned about her. Golda, then, spent a month under observation in Rambam Hospital, Haifa.

At first we lived in Sha'ar HaAliyah and visited her but after two weeks we were moved to Be'er Yaakov and so we couldn't visit and keep track of her situation. My father started working in Tel HaShomer and was afraid to lose his job for being absent. After four months we received a telegram that she had been moved to a nursery in Haifa. We've already planned to come and bring her home. The next day a new telegram arrived, informing us that she had died.

My parents immediately traveled to there and asked for the body, but were told that she had already been buried. They were probably scared of my father, who has a tough, military voice; they brought him a translator, who engraved Golda's name on a piece of wood to prove that it is supposedly her grave. When he asked to open the grave, he was sent to the Ministry of Interior for approval, and again to the Ministry of Health in order to exhaust him.

Our family remembers how Ben-Gurion invited large families to make Aliyah to Israel and that they were promised they would have work. We've our father's immigrant certificate, with the registration of all children, including Golda. I have been to all of the investigation committees, as well as the discussions in the Knesset. We've received two death certificates post factum, with two different dates of death.

My mother never forgot her, of course, and remembered Golda being a very fair, white, tall baby with long fingers (her father is tall, while the other is short); beautiful with large eyes. My father cried every morning, "I came from an Arab country, I never suffered what the Jews do to other Jews here."