Our parents who immigrated to Israel from Libya in 1951, Tzion and Sisa Gvili, lived in a transit camp in Ashkelon. In 1952 they had a daughter whom they named Eretz, which means “homeland,” for Zionist reasons. At the age of four months she had a fever and she was referred to a hospital in Sarafand (Tzrifin). Her father took her to the hospital. She was hospitalized. When he came to visit her the day after he was told she had passed away. He wanted to bury her and was shown neither a death certificate nor a body. They told him that “we handle all matters. Go home, and everything will be fine”. Naively, he did not know how to deal with the institutions and he certainly did not suspected the chilling crime that took place, and so all that was left for him was to accept the verdict with great sorrow.

He returned home and told his wife Sisa the story. She did not believe the story, but, still, she was not always able to function and forever said that the Eretz is not dead. Mother took it so hard. She went into depression as expected, and suffered from diabetes and heart problems. 17 years later, a draft notice came for Eretz. We found her national identity number; we have it with us. My father (Eretz’s brother) does not want to publish it at this moment. Meanwhile, Eretz’s parents, Grandma Sisa and Grandpa Zion, may their memories be a blessing, have died. Eretz has sisters and brothers: Leora, David, Rachel, Mazal, Judith, may her memory be a blessing, Baruch, Rachamim (Miko), and Yael. These are the details we know … May God reveal the truth, do justice, and bring respite to these aching souls.