Together קובץ סגור

APRIL. 2013

Together

Embracing our orphans 33 IDF orphans celebrated their Bar & Bat Mitzvah in Jerusalem with the President of Israel, IDF Chief of Staff and hundreds of family members and friends | Page 18

Cover: Oz Boanish embraced by Lieutenant General Benny Gantz

Contents: Together – Nava Shoham – Solan | 3 Campaign Update – Daniel Tuksar | 4 My Otzma | 6 Life After Death | 10 Certificate of Appreciation | 14 The General’s hand | 18 Demanding Recognition | 22 Fun at the Red Sea | 24 IDF Widows & Orphans Organization is deeply grateful for your generosity in supporting our vital work, and we look forward to welcoming both new friends and established supporters as partners to our mission.

To Donate: Israel Defense Forces Widows & Orphans Organization 1 Oranim St. Givat Shmuel 54052 Israel Tel: 972-3-6918403 Fax: 972-3-6916483 Email: office@idfwo.org Website: www.idfwo.org Chairwoman: Mrs. Nava Shoham - Solan CEO: Gil Simenhaus, Adv. Editing team: Nava Shoham-Solan, Daniel Tuksar, Gil Tevet, Yuval Ofer, Yaron Shyldkrot Translation: Alisa Shilor Designed by: Ron Jedlin Studio Photography: Koby Koenkas, Noa City Eliyahu

www.idfwo.org +972-3-691-8403, Ext. 6 office@idfwo.org

Thanks to our dedicated supporters for their continuous generosity:

Mrs. Adela Katz The Massengill family Mr. & Mrs. John and Fran Kreinces Mr. Richard Stein Mr. Evis Beaton

W

Together with Nava Shoham - Solan

e are once again beginning to smell the fragrant Israeli spring that excites us anew each year with the abundance of its flowers. One of the outstanding flowers of this season is the Red Everlasting – a flower that blossoms only for a short time, and is of spectacular beauty. In Hebrew, the flower is called “Blood of the Maccabees.” According to legend, it appears in every place in Israel where the land absorbed a drop of blood from the Maccabees – ancient heroes, who were the source of inspiration for modern heroes. This flower of the spring symbolizing days of growth and rebirth, has also become the symbol of Memorial Day for Israel’s Fallen Soldiers – the day in which we remember our dear ones who gave their lives for the spring of the Jewish People and for the blossoming of the State of Israel.

Each year, the days of springtime, when the Jewish people celebrate Passover, connect the past with the present and renew the tie that remains – and will never be broken – between history and hope. On Passover we mark the heroic transition of the people of Israel from slavery to redemption. Both Holocaust Memorial Day and Memorial Day for Israel’s Fallen Soldiers are symbols of going out of slavery and into freedom.

In Israel, the Siren of Silence on those two days reminds us, during those moments when we stop our regular activities, of the heavy price of leaving slavery – with all its modern meanings – for redemption and for sovereignty. We don’t know how many of the People of Israel sacrificed their lives during the 40 year journey in the desert, or how many of the fighters of the Tribes of Israel fell in the battles for Israel, to free and resettle the land for establishing the kingdom of Israel. However, we know very well the price that the Jewish people paid in Europe during WWII – and during the attempts to take arms and to rebel. Even though many years have passed, the pain is still sharp – as if it was only yesterday. Unfortunately, the situation surrounding us today is not encouraging, as through the windows opened to the east, the north, and the south rise the smoke of hatred – and the cannons are still aimed at the heart of Israel.

Year after year, we read in the Passover Haggadah the wonderful story of the historic journey back home. Year after year, we touch the hot burn of the wounds of the terrible Holocaust. Year after year, we are reunited with the memories of our loved ones, who continued – in the chain of generations – to fight for our very existence, but did not return home. Year after year we celebrate our Independence Day – with hope and with pride – and wave the Israeli blue and white flag with a feeling of accomplishment. This entire series of emotions – of unity in pain and happiness – enters our crowded calendar in spring time. Of course, we don’t need any reminders – certainly not those of us in whose homes such a deep void remains. And nevertheless, this connection between ancient Jewish history, the middle of the twentieth century, and the reality of daily life unites us, when we see the Red Everlasting sprouting on the mountainsides of Israel. The Jews of the Diaspora – our beloved brothers and sisters around the world – completely share our fate with us. Your assistance and contribution that comes from your heart and from your soul strengthens the ties that connect us despite the distances. Together with the kindness and generosity of our non-Jewish friends, genuine friends of Israel, you empower us, giving us hope and confidence that we are never alone, always in your thoughts and prayers. All of you help the State of Israel to face the challenges and certainly help us – as an organization- to offer a shoulder and a hand to families of our heroes.

I would like to use this opportunity and wish everyone a happy holiday and meaningful memorial days. Only if we preserve the memory will we know how to direct our path.

Only the memory – together with the hope – will light the day for us, and the future.

Sincerely, Nava Shoham-Solan Chairwoman, IDFWO

3

W

hy are you so connected to Israel? What draws you towards this magical place, its people and its culture? Why do you so generously open your heart and support the activities for IDF widows and orphans, bringing a smile back to their faces, day after day showing how genuinely you care for them?

Israel has essentially been in a state of war from its very first day with those who seek, or have sought in the past, to destroy the Jewish state. Yet despite all the harsh battles, rockets on its cities and communities and horrendous terrorist attacks, Israel is a proud and strong nation, a global leader in technology, agriculture, hitech, medicine, solar energy and so much more. This tiny country that can barely be found on the map makes our world a better place, for everyone. Its citizens are stunning inventors, playing a leading role in numerous crucial fields, while helping save lives around the globe.

Behind these phenomenal achievements and truly incredible success stories, are the Israeli people. And as strong as we are, and as motivated as we are to protect our homes, we also cry and mourn, missing over 23,000 of our finest sons and daughters who have left us forever. These are men and women whose incredible commitment and courage truly made the difference, leaving their families at home and without thinking twice setting out to protect our country, unfortunately, often sacrificing their lives.

We cannot change the sad reality and bring our heroes back. But, we all truly feel responsible to those who have fallen, eager to reciprocate in the smallest of ways, putting some happiness back into their children’s lives, responsible for their well-being. We all feel it is the right thing to do, that we owe it to our soldiers, and the sweet smiles on the children’s faces certainly prove that we are doing the right thing. I wish to take this opportunity to personally thank each of you who has so generously contributed to our 2012 campaign and invite you to continue supporting our women and children in 2013.

With your help, we look forward to expanding our activities, bringing even more children to the wonderful camps around the country, celebrating their Bar and Bat Mitzvah’s in Jerusalem, granting university scholarships, providing even more activities to the widows, and do so much more.

I invite you to feel free to contact me with any questions you might have at: daniel@idfwo.org.

Sincerely, Daniel Tuksar Director, Resource Development

4

IDFWO 2

42

orphans spent three weeks in a Bar and Bat Mitzvah summer camp in North America

17

orphan first graders received school supplies

O 2012 activities in numbers

398 orphans attended OTZMA camps over Pesach, Sukkot and Hanukkah

172 50

33

orphans celebrated Bar and Bat Mitzvah in Jerusalem

widows studied English, computer skills and much more in university level classes

orphan brides and grooms received wedding gifts

and even more!

160 orphan university students received scholarships | 680 widows traveled around Israel on 17 different trips | 647 widows attended the annual “Fun Day” for IDF widows | 700 widows attended the annual “Week of Relaxation & Therapy” at the Red Sea |

5

OTZMA MY

We asked our orphans what OTZMA camps really mean to them. Here are their most honest answers.

Adi Levis For me, Otzma Camp is one big, loving family. No matter what will happen to you that family will support you every moment – be it difficult or joyous – and it will be there for you, even if you are sad…

For me Otzma Camp is great love!

For me Otzma Camp is more than just getting together with friends. Otzma is one huge family. It is power, or “empowerment” in our case.

Just because each of the kids in this camp does not have a father, and it’s not strange and different for everyone, everyone understands one another.

Everyone laughs, is happy, enjoys himself, is sometimes a little sad, but we are all together! One large family, supportive, loving and hugging…

Before I came to Otzma, I could hardly speak about my father having passed away and how much I miss him, and suddenly this wonderful idea of Otzma arose. Just as its name, Otzma brings lots of strength to every one of its campers and counselors, enables us to speak

6

about everything – all of the emotions, all of the sensitive subjects, and even just to share day to day experiences.

It’s almost impossible to describe Otzma.

You can only understand the Otzma experience when you live it every day, and every hour, with all the friends and the supportive counselors that are there for you twenty-four hours a day, 7 days a week - or more correctly, 24 hours a day, 4 days a week… But the counselors and the campers stay in touch regularly, so that this huge family still exists even on days when there is no school. It also provides support and help during the times between the camps…

So I’d just like to say one small word – Thanks.

Thank you, the entire a-m-a-z-i-n-g Otzma staff, for all your support during both the difficult and the joyous moments. Thank you for the immense love that each one of you gives to us.

I wish to thank Shlomi, (Michal who was there before Alona…), Alona, and all the people whose hard work have enabled Otzma to become what it is.

And most of all, many thanks to each and every one of the counselors and the campers who participate in Otzma Camp on each holiday of each year, and will continue to do so every year.

7

Matan Peretz What The OTZMA Camp Is For Me….

For me, the OTZMA Camp is “home”, my second family. From the moment that I return from OTZMA Camp, I feel that I left one family and transferred back to my own family. When I arrive at OTZMA Camp, even if I don’t know anyone, I know that we have something in common that connects us all. I love and thank everyone who works for making the camp such an exceptional place. No one in the world can understand how much the sensitivity, caring, warmth, help, and support unite us whenever we need it.

There is just no way to really explain how much this camp uplifts us, strengthens us, and shows us that there truly are people who support, love, and assist us in the most difficult moments. This camp has also been a great influence in our lives. We meet people and friends in similar situations, and it enables us to understand that we are not alone. In short, OTZMA Camp is the best family in the world!!!!!

Yaara Nagar What OTZMA means to me…

What is a breath of fresh air for you?

The place where it is possible to escape, and finally be the same as everyone else, not “the kid whose parent passed away”….

OTZMA is this powerful experience, the group of friends, the people, the connection we share, the understanding…It is the knowledge that

8

you really know that there is someone who understands what you experience every morning, with every breath, with every ache in your heart that you feel with the words “mother” and “father.”

It is that feeling that everyone covers up the scars that don’t allow us to live without hurting from time to time. It’s funny to say this, but perhaps OTZMA is a sort of medication that heals wounds…

When we deal with our pain through laughter, even black humor becomes a way to cope. Instead of tears of sorrow powerfully streaming down our cheeks, sometimes our tears are quite the opposite, and they are tears of laughter, of emotion…

OTZMA showed me inner aspects of myself that I didn’t know existed… and this intense emotion that no matter happens to anyone of us, we all just want

to be with him, and to get to his house to tell him, “We are here! We are always with you!”

OTZMA is to run forward in life and never stop.

It’s that crazy feeling that you know that there is always someone with you.

A week before camp, the strong smile doesn’t leave your face because you know that soon you will kiss mother or father goodbye, and you will say “Don’t miss me too much,” and leave with a wink of your eye…Only for a few days, but for a few days of recharging your battery, a few days of deep breathing, and forgetting about everything, about the friends at home, even about home, and just being with OTZMA! You are able to be yourself without masks. You stand proudly and say, “Yes! I am an IDF orphan who is proud to be

Adi Parag

here and proud of his parents! Proud of both parents, the one who has departed and the one who is with me!”

OTZMA is looking at your friends and understanding that they are true friends!

They are different from a friend from home who says, “I understand,” while both of his parents are laughing together in the living room.

OTZMA is the freedom to ask the question, “How was he killed”? It is also the smile that appears after the story, the real hug that says, “I really do understand you…”

OTZMA is family…my second family…

OTZMA is my place of escape, the place where I feel equal among everyone, the place where I laugh and fool around…

OTZMA is my second home…

At first, I didn’t understand the meaning of the name, just a group of kids with something in common, who meet to travel and have a good time; but the minute I got off the bus, I felt the warmth of home and love. People that I just met were already showering me with so much love. That feeling of belonging that is created in every OTZMA Camp, is nothing that can be taken for granted. It is a place where you can, beyond the trips and activities, feel that you belong as a part of something far greater than what you see on the surface.

I very quickly understood that in the camp we empower each other every moment, whether the moment is sad or happy, difficult or easy. It doesn’t matter who you are, where you come from, or who you are at home. At every moment you will be part of this huge circle of empowerment that we share. You will never be alone. There will always be someone with you, whether a participant from your group or from another group.

Every activity binds us to each other and helps us overcome obstacles together, while we progress both as a group and as individuals. We encourage each other not to give up, and help whoever finds difficulties along the way. The enjoyment that unites us is delightful to share with everyone.

I was surprised that in addition to making friends with the campers in the groups, we found friendships with the counselors.

During the short time at the Camp, we acquired older brothers and sisters who helped us with everything. They become a listening ear and a supportive back, and not for a single moment did I regret that I was there.

OTZMA Camp changes you. It provides you with motivation, hope, new experiences, enjoyment, happiness, friends, and most of all it gives you a home. I thank everyone who works to enable the OTZMA Camp to exist, and for everything that the camp does for us.

We could not have asked for anything better than this.

9

Life after death 1 1 years after losing her beloved husband Moshe, Einav Ratzon-Kapoyah remembers her late husband by continuing for ward and bringing to life their children Gil Tevet

T

he decisive meeting in the life of Einav Ratzon-Kapoyah took place in the office of the Kangaroo delivery service company on Hamasger Street in Tel Aviv. The air is noisy and full of soot, difficult to describe as suitable for definitive meetings, and certainly not for romantic ones.

She was released from military service as a Krav Maga instructor ( selfdefense system developed in Israel), returned from a long visit to Nepal, Thailand, Australia, and New Zealand, and began to look for work. 22 years old, she goes through life delicately despite her Dan 2 black belt in karate that she has had since she was a young girl, especially good in sports. At the end of her interview at Kangaroo, she asked if anyone was traveling in the direction of Ramat Hasharon. And that’s how, while traveling north on his motor scooter, Moshe and Einav met each other.

“He was 26. At the end of the trip he invited me to a party. I really didn’t understand his intentions. We became friends. Moshe was my first boyfriend.

Completely by chance, without intending it at all, I met an amazing person. This was a romance that started by chance and developed slowly – without feeling it. I studied architecture and interior design and he studied psychology. The two of us worked on deliveries. Moshe, unlike me, was a sociable person with bright, shining eyes and lots of curiosity. Only after half a

10

year Moshe told me that he loves me. I am a closed person who has difficulty connecting to others. Next to him, it was easier for me. With him, I also didn’t have trouble being young. We were married in September, 1998.”

Moshe completed his studies and began working for the police force – in the Central Unit of the District of Tel Aviv.

In the evenings they would ride his motor scooter to restaurants and plan their future. In 2000, their first daughter, Snir, was born. They had a happy and harmonious life, “He even knew how to apologize well, to make up with me. I would stage arguments just so we would make up. He didn’t have the ego and defects of a regular man.” Moshe very much enjoyed his first years in the police.

Afterwards, “He had trouble accepting authority,” Einav explains, “Moshe was an independent person. I began to feel that he was suffering. He lost the spark and I ‘allowed’ him to resign, to look for a new path. Five days before everything ended, and in the middle of talking about the end of the work for the police, he said that we already need a brother or sister for Snir. She was one year and 9 months old at the time. He said the time had come.”

Completely Focused

Five days after that conversation, Einav waited for Moshe at their home in Ramat Hasharon. He was supposed to take her

place watching little Snir. Immediately after Einav began to worry and to start making phone calls that were not answered, the news also came. Moshe was injured in a traffic accident while riding his motor scooter on his way home from work. In the hospital, she heard the staff talking about his critical condition, and she understood that he would not survive. In the middle of the night she remained alone, at his bedside, in the Intensive Care Unit. The monitor started going wild and the medical team that rushed in asked Einav to wait outside.

“They started to resuscitate him and I was saying, ‘Moshe, we still have lots of things to do, this isn’t the time to go. We have a family to raise.’ And then, like in the movies, I saw the doctor come out of Intensive Care, approach me and tell me that Moshe passed away. And I, completely focused, was thinking to myself only that it was impossible that I wouldn’t have another child with Moshe. That was the only thing that I thought about at that moment.

I got the doctor’s attention, looked into his eyes and said to him, ‘Now you are going to make me pregnant from him. Make me a child from him.

Make me pregnant now.’ The doctor was shocked. ‘There is no technology, no protocol, nothing.’ Several hours passed until Einav understood that the process can theoretically take place, but not immediately, the way she so much wanted. The medical team accepted her request and extracted sperm

“They started to resuscitate him and I was saying, ‘Moshe, we still have lots of things to do, this isn’t the time to go.

We have a family to raise.’

from Moshe’s body, and froze it. Only afterwards did those involved deal with the legal and procedural questions of such a rare occurrence. A year later, the Attorney General published guidelines on the matter.

Einav, who didn’t tell anyone about the extraction of sperm except for her sister, Carmit, took care of burying her loved one. She was a 27 year old widow with a baby at home, wanting desperately to be pregnant again. “On that terrible night,” says Einav, “I crossed a boundary. My life moved to a new level. I became a different woman. Until that moment, I was the little wife at home, and all at once it ended. With Moshe, I allowed myself to be small. I enjoyed being small next to him. But at that moment in the hospital, it finished. I became something else.”

“It’s not over”

“During the week of mourning for Moshe,” says Einav, “I decided it was time to tell his parents about my plan.

‘Don’t worry,’ I told them. ‘It’s not over.

11

Moshe stayed with us.’ At first, they didn’t understand what I was talking about. When I explained my intention, they were totally astonished. I thought that I was making them happy, but it’s not easy to comprehend something like that at first. It is a shock. And I so much wanted them close to me. It was very important to me that they accept and relate to it. They are Moshe’s parents and they are the grandparents of Snir and of the baby that I wanted. The absolute self assurance and determination that I showed left no room for any other decision, but they didn’t immediately take part in it. I told them that I wanted them to be with me; but even if they decided not to, there would be a child from Moshe, with them or without them.”

And then the formal medical and legal procedure began to allow for the pregnancy. “I wanted it that same night that Moshe passed away, but it took more time,” says Einav. “I had to go through committees that checked if I am of sound mind and fit for it – psychologists, social workers. I wasn’t concerned for a moment that it wouldn’t succeed. I didn’t imagine that I wouldn’t be able to make this simple desire happen – to be pregnant again from Moshe. I only wanted another child from him. I didn’t think at all about the possibility that they wouldn’t permit it. I told them in the committees that Moshe and I spoke about this just a few days before he was killed, and I want to fulfill his will. This was our dream. I wanted it very quickly, but there was a process. There was a procedure, bureaucracy. A cooling off period had to pass. It took three months.

After they extracted the eggs for in vitro fertilization, the doctor told me that the chance of having a pregnancy after the first attempt was 25 percent. But since I was so determined in my actions, and wanted our child so much, the pregnancy was successful the first time.

I was pregnant from Moshe. I was happy to be pregnant but I was also sad. “

12

“During the week of mourning for Moshe,I decided it was time to tell his parents about my plan. ‘Don’t worry,’ I told them. ‘It’s not over.

Moshe stayed with us.’

Memory and birth

Five days after the first memorial day for Moshe, Einav gave birth to Tom at the Tel Hashomer Hospital, where Moshe had passed away. “Life ends there and begins there,” she says, “I didn’t want the child to be born exactly on the memorial day. There are plenty of complex matters then, anyway. Why add more to it if it is possible not to? The baby waited five days and filled the house with light and great happiness. During the pregnancy, I was concerned that I would have a child with sad eyes but she turned out exactly the opposite – a happy girl, smiling and very sensitive. She, like her big sister, writes to her father all the time and keeps a remarkable and emotional diary about her life. Some time ago, a friend of hers lost her father – and the experienced Tom, suggested giving her a diary so that she could also write to her father, with the hope that this would be helpful. My Tom suffers because she doesn’t know Moshe, and she says to me, ‘Mother, it’s not fair that I don’t know my father. Why does Snir know him and I don’t? I miss him.’”

Moshe, who lost his life “in the line of duty,” was recognized as a fallen IDF soldier, unlike police who pass away “during their service” and are not given the same recognition. According to law, Einav is an IDF widow and the older daughter, Snir, is an IDF orphan. The defense system also recognized Tom

as an IDF orphan, even though she was born a year after Moshe passed away.

After a persistent battle that continued for 7 years, Einav and her daughters were finally able to see the name of their father, Moshe, inscribed on the wall commemorating the fallen. They were also able to see his picture and to hear his name read in the ceremony on Memorial Day for Israel’s Fallen Soldiers.

“I am an IDF widow and the girls are IDF orphans. There is no reason that we won’t receive exactly what others receive.

I want them to see that Moshe took part in protecting our country, and that he sacrificed his life. It was not a simple struggle with bereaved families who did not want us with them. Moshe was exactly like soldiers who were killed in accidents or by illnesses.”

Einav began and completed law school and became a real estate attorney.

The family, she says, carries on as if Moshe was alive. He receives regular “reports” on what is happening with them, and they have frequent “intimate conversations” with him. “I never thought about a new spouse,” say Einav, “Only in recent years has this thought begun to trickle inside of me. I long for a hug. I have serious conversations with my girls about a couple’s relationship.

Five days after the first memorial day for Moshe, Einav gave birth to Tom at the Tel Hashomer Hospital, where Moshe had passed away. “Life ends there and begins there.”

I say to them, ‘The day will come and mother will want to be in a relationship.’

And Snir said to me, ‘Mother, I don’t want another father. I already have one.’

The girls also ask, ‘And if he won’t love us?’ I am not looking for a father for my children. They already have their father, Moshe. I want a relationship, but I don’t do anything about it. The mind wants but it is still difficult for the heart.

Things don’t come to me easily in life.

My story is unusual but it is normal from my perspective. That is the way that life

turned out.”

The discussion with Einav takes place in her home in Ramat Hasharon. Two sweet babies are crawling on the rug.

They are twins, a boy and a girl named Etai and Shahar. “At the end of 2010 I realized that I am not a child anymore, that I want more children, and that I want them from Moshe. All those years since the IVF that I did before the birth of Tom, an additional fertilized fetus had been waiting, frozen, 9 years old, like Tom. After five attempts I became

pregnant with twins. We are now a family of five. The two babies are also recognized as IDF orphans. Are you asking about my plans? A year after Moshe was killed, I published a memory book. They asked me how many copies I want to print, and I started to calculate in my head. I said to myself, ‘There will be four children; each of them will have 3 children. That’s a total of 12 copies.

Additional copies need to be added to this for the extended family. I have a plan and I’m working on it.”

13

Certificate of Appreciation In February the IDFWO granted scholarships to orphans who are university students • In between highlighting and summarizing texts, three IDF orphans who are pursuing academic degrees tell about their difficult decisions and challenges, and repeatedly thank the donors • “This takes the burden off your head, and lessens the pressure,” says Noam Mualem, an accounting student.

Yaron Shyldkrot

“I

’m sitting down to study in half an hour,” the student promises himself. “We will first just see what’s changed in the meantime on Facebook.” It is exam period. This is the time when every student suddenly decides to clean up his room again, to do laundry once more, or to go back to exercising – alternatives that appear bright and tempting in comparison with the next exam. A lot of will power is needed to open the books. Gal Asher, studying for his Master’s degree, actually has a lot of self-discipline, but what he lacks is time. “During the exam period in the first semester, I got up every morning at 5:30,” he explains, “I went to work, attended meetings, and came home at 7:00 in the evening. Only then I started to study for the exams. I also do army reserve service and am a counselor in a youth group. There’s no doubt that if I could just study, it would be simpler. My grades would also certainly be better.”

How is there time for all this? “You sleep

14

less,” he answers with a smile.

In February, the IDFWO awarded Asher a scholarship funded by donors.

“This scholarship makes everything a lot easier,” he admits. “It gives a little breathing space. I can, for example, take off a day or even an hour from work in order to study, and it won’t be so terrible.”

There’s no time to work

This year Major (Res.) Gal Asher (33) began a Master’s degree in business administration and organizational consulting at the Ono Academic College.

In the IDF, Asher served as a company commander in Givati infantry brigade and a team leader in Shaldag special unit. After discharge from the army, he began studying for his B.A. in business administration at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev. Along with his studies, he also works as a manufacturing director in a factory and as a counselor in a youth

group for IDF orphans. Despite his busy schedule, he emphasizes with a smile that “Everything is OK, correct? I don’t complain.”

Noam Mualem (21) also began studying for her degree this year. She chose economics and accounting at The Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Unlike Asher, she doesn’t manage to work. “I have no time,” she explains, “I study five days a week.”

In the Israeli competitive reality, an academic degree is almost a necessity.

“Today a first degree has become almost like a high school matriculation,” explains Asher. “You must have a degree.

In the business world, there are even offices in which many things are still inaccessible to you if you don’t have a Master’s degree. Alongside training for a profession, gaining experience, and ensuring some sort of security for the future, there are of course the additional advantages of personal enrichment,

Nava Shoham Solan, IDFWO Chairwoman gives Gal Asher a scholarship

“In the degree I am studying for, there are very few people who work. If they work, it’s at night or they miss classes or leave early.” broadening one’s perspectives, and developing new directions of thought.

Everything is good, but studies are not inexpensive. In fact, they are a significant economic burden, especially for an IDF orphan.

“My father, the late Lieutenant Yedidia Asher, was killed when I was three and a half years old,” says Gal. “He was in a reconnaissance jeep that overturned

in the Arava desert. I don’t remember him, and most of what I know about him is from stories. When you are an IDF orphan, you grow up very quickly.

I grew up in a kibbutz belonging to Kvutzat Yavneh. Ever since I left the kibbutz, I don’t remember not working or supporting myself. All my life, I have wanted to be secure and to establish a base for myself. My mother lives at the kibbutz, and she is doing well, but I don’t want her to feel that she needs to worry about me or support me. I want her to know that I am all right.”

However, studies don’t always allow for work at the same time. “In the degree I am studying for, there are very few people who work,” says Mualem. “If they work, it’s at night or they miss classes or leave early. The studies are very intensive. And during the first year, it’s impossible to work, so that’s why I also

live at home. I considered moving to Jerusalem, but I have no time to finance the rent. There are people who study with me that postponed their studies for economic reasons. They knew they wouldn’t be able to work while going to school; so they worked a lot beforehand in order to save money, and they began studying when they were older.”

The scholarships granted by the IDFWO are a bright light for the students. “It helps very much,” clarifies Mualem.

“The scholarship takes the burden off your head and releases the pressure a bit. It also reduces the unpleasantness of determining who is paying for the school and the expenses.”

Everything to make us smile Mualem lost her father in 1997, when two Yasur helicopters crashed and 73

15

soldiers were killed, among them the flight commander, Lieutenant Colonel Moshe Mualem, a Golani brigade officer and Noam’s father. She was five and a half years old at the time.”When they told my mother, we were still sleeping,” Mualem remembers. “But then a lot of people came to the house and there was lots of screaming and crying. In the morning, they told us that two helicopters had crashed and that my father wouldn’t return. At that moment, I didn’t understand what it meant, and I don’t know when it finally registered.”

The late Captain Vadim Melnik lost his life in the same tragedy. He was a physician in the reserves, traveling in one of the helicopters on the way to military activity in Lebanon. His son, Natan Melnik was one year and two months old at the time. Today he is only 17, but already studies electrical engineering at Bar Ilan University.

He explains how his interest in engineering began. “When I was a child, I played with Lego, and I would connect things to each other. Afterwards, I also built model planes. I skipped a grade and finished high school last year. I studied in a science class, and as part of a special project I already decided to take university courses four years ago.

After two years of general courses, I transferred to engineering in preparation for my Bachelor’s degree. At the same time that I completed high school matriculation exams, I continued my academic studies. This year, I hope to get my military service postponed so I can finish the degree before entering the IDF, where I would like to get a position in the profession that I studied.”

Melnik also lives at home and travels to the university every day. This is the second year that he has been given a scholarship from the IDFWO. Last year, at the ceremony when the scholarships were presented, he even gave a speech on behalf of the students. “At the ceremony I also spoke about the importance of the

16

Ms. Vered Sw id, PM Office He Member ad of the A of K nesset uthority fo Shu li Mu r the Adv a lem-R a fa ancemen eli and Bri t of the Sta gad ier Gen tus of Wo era l Gila G men in Is aziel, Isra rael, eli Police

“At the ceremony I also spoke about the importance of the scholarship and how the IDFWO always assists, supports, and does everything to make us smile” scholarship and how the IDFWO always assists, supports, and does everything to make us smile,” he says. “This scholarship helps very much and makes it easier for the families. If I wouldn’t have received the scholarship, I probably would have had to go out and work. I see how a lot of my friends at school study and work at the same time, and how very difficult it is for them. I think my grades are certainly better, because I can devote my time just to studying. The scholarship also gives students the feeling of personal

fulfillment.”

Melnik is very satisfied with his studies.

The thought of a Master’s degree has already crossed his mind, but he hasn’t yet decided in which field. In the meantime, he hopes that his degree will place him in a more significant position during his military service. “The practical thinking about the army comes from home,” he admits. “They always taught me that one has to give back to the state and contribute as much as possible.”

“My personality is very much connected to home and to the fact that I am an IDF orphan,” Mualem continues. “I am a practical person and like to do what I enjoy, but without feeling that there’s no reason for it. That’s why I decided to study accounting. I am very connected to working with numbers, and I felt that this would combine something that I like with something that will also be useful afterwards. I also thought about studying dance, which is what I love most, but in the end I decided not to. I knew that when I would complete my studies, there wouldn’t be anything for me to do with the degree.”

M r. Av iv Bush insk y, “Heseg ” Foundation and M r. Gil Si CEO, M rs. N mehaus, IDFW ava Shoham So O CEO lan, IDFWO Cha

To contribute to others

Throughout the interview, the three students repeatedly thank the donors, and Nava (Shoham-Solan, IDFWO chairwoman) together with all the IDFWO staff. “It’s astounding,” says Mualem. “It’s completely unexpected that they would provide money for this. There are millions of other causes, and the choice of IDF orphans shows tremendous caring and dedication.

Perhaps the donors are not here, but they care about what happens here, about us, and about the state.”

Mualem also chose to make her own contribution, and she is a counselor at the IDFWO Otzma camps. “This is one of the amazing things that I have done,” she says with excitement. “ While I am a sort of big sister for them, I am a friend as well. And of course there is added value because I am also an orphan, who understands the campers even without them having to explain. I hope I can also be a personal example, so that they will see someone who studies, and continues to make a life for herself.”

Gal Asher also volunteers and is a counselor for a youth group of IDF

orphans. “I got to the IDFWO at a very young age. It’s like entering a family, where someone else has experienced what I did and knows what I am going through,” he explains. “Today I am a counselor for a high school age group.

I am in contact with some of the participants since they were nine years old, and today they are already going to the army. They are like my children. One of them was enlisted in the navy, and it’s a wonderful feeling to know that with the little that I can give, I am able to show them that it is possible, that I grew up as I should, and that everything is OK.” Despite the pressures of school, the two are determined to continue to contribute. One of the reasons is the scholarship. Mualem notes that this support allows her to go to camp and not to work on her vacation, for example. “It allows me to do something more, and it’s possible that if I didn’t receive the scholarship, I would have to give up the camps or take other courses and miss studying with the better lecturers in order to work. Something always comes at the expense of something else.”

“That’s what’s beautiful about our people,” Asher summarizes. “There are others who understand the importance of helping and have the ability and the desire to do so. Each person contributes from wherever he is. I, from where I am, and they, from where they are, help people to move forward in life and to be like everyone else. Many, many thanks.”

ir woman

Thanks IFCJ the International Fellowship of Christians & Jews FIDF The “HESEG” Foundation Memorial Fund of Dr. Sarah & Dr. Max Graph 17

The General’s

hand Together with the President of Israel, Mr. Shimon Peres and the IDF Chief of Staff, Lieutenant General Benny Gantz, 33 orphans and their families celebrated their Bar and Bat Mitzvah in Jerusalem Gil Tevet

O

z Boanish will never forget the soft hand placed on his shoulder by the head of the IDF Chief of Staff, Lieutenant General Benny Gantz. They first met seconds before at the stage of the Jerusalem Theater. Oz, an orphan who was there to celebrate with the rest of the children of the IDF Widows and Orphans organization their Bar and Bat Mitzvahs, stood next to the Chief of Staff of the Israeli army who came to show his support and gratitude. While Gantz gave a moving speech, little 13 year old Oz was standing next to him.

Deeply concentrated, Oz looked at the crowd and carefully listened to the Chief of Staff. The general’s hand never

18

let go of the child’s shoulder. The large crowd in the theatre was overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, President Peres and the families incredibly touched. Then, it was the turn for Oz himself to speak: “I am Oz Boanish, son of Isaac Boanish, blessed be his memory. My father fell on a Friday night, when terrorists opened fire on the worshipers route between Hebron and Kiryat Arba. He was part of the rapid response unit that was the first one to arrive to the scene. He fell there together with eleven of our brave soldiers. Dad was 46 when he fell. Today, at our event, I have the honor to light the “candle of friendship and brotherhood” – it is this deep friendship that connected our

d 19

Ch ief of Sta ff, Lt. Ge n. Benny Gantz, ID FWO Chair woman Yech iel Eckstein, fou Mrs. Nava Shoham nder & president of -Solan and Rabbi the IFCJ

parents on the battlefield, brotherhood in whose name they helped each other under fire - and for which they gave their lives. And that is the brotherhood that connects us too, their daughters and sons.Because such friendship and brotherhood, our hearts will not forget.”

At the end of the evening, Oz was eager to say how much he enjoyed receiving all the love and warmth during the day which started at the historic Ammunition Hill battleground in Jerusalem, continued by the celebrations and prayers at the Western Wall, and ending with an amazing event at the Jerusalem Theater.

“I was very excited,” said Oz, “the whole day was very special. We were surrounded by a lot of people who care about us. All of them, together with the friends from overseas who came especially to be with us, made this day so special. I felt I was part of a huge family.

I put on Tefillin at the Kotel for the first time in my life and this was very special for me. I don’t remember my father well as I was only three years old when he fell. For me, but especially for mom, the fact that dad wasn’t here with us on this special day was very hard. For me, the most exciting moment was meeting the Chief of Staff. He knew my dad very well from the days he served in Hebron, and I felt I was getting so much love from him.”

20

33 orphans, members of the IDF Widows and Orphans Organization, gathered in Jerusalem last October to celebrate their Bar and Bat Mitzvahs.

They made their way from all over Israel, coming from big cities, Kibbutz’s and smallest of villages. Religious and secular, the sons of new immigrants and those who have been in Israel for many generations, these boys and girls all gathered in Jerusalem to celebrate and remember. One destiny, a cruel one, tied them together, forever. The annual Bar and Bat Mitzvah celebration is a part of a series of events, gatherings and celebrations to which young orphans are invited to participate during their early years – numerous fun and educational camps, trips, meetings and so much more is organized for them by IDFWO.

A

ssaf Amitai from Zichron Yaakov, a small community just south of Haifa, is a son of late Yaron Amitai, a reserves soldier who fell in the Second Lebanon War in 2006. Yaron was 45 years old when he fell. Little Assaf lit the candle of “dedication to the mission” (One of the most important values taught in the IDF): “Such were our parents,” he said in an emotional voice as the moved audience carefully listened, “They left for their reserve units, despite their age, no matter what was happening at their hectic jobs – they

did it for all of us. They knew they have to give, as everyone has to do so. They knew they have to do it all, and even risk their lives - for us.” After the wonderful day in Jerusalem, Assaf admitted he did not really know what to expect before that morning: “They told me there was an event in Jerusalem and I came. I knew I was asked to light a candle and make a speech, but other than that I did not expect very much. It turned out to be an absolutely amazing day. I was most

A ssa f A m

ita i

excited at the Western Wall. To read from the Torah at this special place is something I will remember forever. It is very hard for me to do things without my father, I was thinking of him every minute of the day. Every day I think of him, and on this day I thought of him all the time.”

E

mily Nesterenko, a 12.5 old orphan from the Bin Nun village located halfway between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, said after the event that for her the most exciting part of the day was meeting with President Shimon

Em ily Neste

Peres: “The feeling that President Peres gave us is that we, like our fathers who fell, are no less important to the State and that everyone cares about us. It is nice to know that. Sometimes it even a bit lessens the pain we experience every day. It is not easy to go through such an emotional event without a father.

As I get older, I realize more and more how great our loss really is. The group activities IDFWO offers us and during which we meet with other orphans of the same age – my friends, are very important to me. Being around other children who understand me really helps a lot and friendships that are created at these meetings are very powerful. I’ve been waiting for these events for a long time and each time can’t wait for them to start.” At her Bat Mitzvah, Emily lit the “candle of partnership” and spoke from the stage before the large crowd:

ren ko

eneral Ben Lieutenant G

ny Gantz

“My dad was born in Ukraine and immigrated to Israel in 1994. He was a graduate of the Technion (Institute of Technology) in Ukraine, and in Israel he worked as a driver – that way he got to know Israel, every street and alley of our country. In the winter of 2002, during the hardest days of Intifada, he was called up for reserve duty in the Gaza Strip, and felt that was the place to give back and contribute. At the same time I was sick and was admitted to a hospital, and my father said to my mother: ‘If you can manage without me, I prefer to stay in the army during these difficult times’. Dad was 37 years old when he fell. All of us here, together, miss our fathers and have dreams of our own. All of us here are partners - and friends. Our parents too knew, when they left for their army units, that we all have mutual responsibilities. This pledge - yours to us and ours, between us - and the partnership of destiny are our strength to grow strong and keep on going.”

Peter Ekste w ith Stel la &

in and Jody &

Brian Goldber

Thanks IFCJ the International Fellowship of Christians & Jews FIDF Stella & Peter Ekstein Jody & Brian Goldberg Brian Hochman Mickey & Carol Baratz 21

g

Demanding Recognition

IDFWO has embraced 15 families from the South Lebanese Army (SLA) as members of its organization, families who joined us after in 2000 Israel left the security zone in south Lebanon. Only in 2004 did they receive full recognition and Israeli citizenship. Two widows and an orphan are trying for over 12 years to integrate and continue to deal with their traumas.

Yuval Ofer

Death on the news broadcast It is a Saturday night in southern Lebanon in 1997. 8 year old George is waiting for his father Grabis, who is due to come back from the army. The following marks the celebration of All Saints Eve, and a costume competition is planned at school. George, dressed as a traffic policeman with a moustache, wants his father to see him before he goes to sleep. “He should have gotten back by 18:00,” George remembers today, at the age of 23. “We started to worry. I waited with my mother until 19:30, and then I put on my pajamas and we sat down to eat. Then we continued to wait for my father to get back already.”

Just like his father, George’s grandfather and all of his uncles served in the South Lebanese Army (SLA). “When everyone came home without my father, we

22

understood that a tragedy had happened.

He had left the base and not far from there the vehicle blew up. Hezbollah had attached explosives to the vehicle and even photographed it. It was on the news.

They showed how they did it, and I saw everything. I couldn’t bear it and I left the house for several hours.”

Gun barrel at his head

Life in Lebanon after the death of George’s father was not easy for a family that had to move from village to village, out of fear of the Hezbollah. When George’s mother joined the SLA to support the family, the danger increased.

“It was hard for us as children to enter a new classroom, to meet new people, to leave the place where we had lived – our home. But, people always welcomed us.

There were always families like ours, who had escaped from another place.”

Sometimes Hezbollah members would come and threaten George’s Christian

family, that if they would not support the Hezbollah, they would be killed. “They threw grenades on the house, and they even came inside. I was only 9 years old when I found myself with a rifle aimed at my head and a Hezbollah person threatening to shoot me if I wouldn’t

that something bad was happening. On the news they reported that Hezbollah entered southern Lebanon with the Syrians, and had announced that this was their war of independence from the Israelis.”

George’s grandfather instructed the entire family to get into the car, and they started on their way toward the border.

After riding for an hour and a half they got to the fence. “There were hundreds of people there who cried, jumped on each other, and only wanted to escape so as not to die. There were gunshots and shouting. I really didn’t understand who was against whom. I thought about what the Israelis would do to us. Mother said that we were protected here.”

“When everyone came home without my father, we understood that a tragedy had happened” hang the organization’s flag and become Muslim. I agreed to hang the flag to save my life.”

This year George will mark more years of living in Israel than in his homeland, Lebanon. But even after 12 years here, he isn’t able to forget the last day in Lebanon. “At 10:00 in the morning of Tuesday, the 25th of May, 2000, we were at school when the principal told me to hurry home right away. When we came close to the village and saw that the IDF base was abandoned, we understood

Only during his second year in Israel, did George manage to calm down a little, “Only then I felt that this is it – we are no longer running. The only fear that I have in Israel is speaking Arabic in a Lebanese dialect,” says George, “Israeli Arabs immediately understand who I am and start saying, ‘You are a spy, a worthless person, a traitor to your country’ as they look at me with hatred. I am proud of my parents and know that they wanted to help the Lebanese people. I am not a traitor to my country – not to Lebanon and not to Israel.”

Until not long ago, George lived in Nahariya. Recently, he began visiting friends who had studied with him in high school at Kibbutz Cabri and later moved to Tel Aviv. “I became familiar with another world, new and big. I began going to theatrical performances, and even went to the opera, just to try it. I felt that here I had the possibility to do everything, that there’s a different way to live. The people here are kind, and accept me as I am. In the north I felt secure, but I didn’t completely belong. Today I am really coming close to one hundred percent Israeli,” he says proudly, “but until I succeed in going to the IDF, it won’t be complete.”

Now me

In the summer of 2006, six years after he came to Israel, the nightmare returned when the Second Lebanon War broke out. “I was on my way to a summer camp where I was a counselor. Across the street I saw my mother in a window.

Just as we said goodbye to each other, a missile that was fired from Lebanon exploded.” His mother was slightly injured from shrapnel, but didn’t say a word to anyone for many months, until she became ill. George gave up his plan to go to the army. “For two years I took care of my mother and also worked so we could support ourselves. My brothers also left school to work and to help. My mother passed away on April 1, 2008.”

That night, before he reached the age of 20, George was transformed from being a big brother to becoming the head of the family.

In December, 2004, George and his two brothers were recognized as IDF orphans, like all the SLA orphans who came to Israel. “We contacted the Ministry of Defense, to see if they could help us. They do help us with what they can and give us all we are entitled to receive. I thank them very much,” he adds, “but in our situation, it’s just not enough for us.” George is too old to go to the army, and his younger brother is supposed to fulfill that dream, “He received a call-up order. I also still want to go to the army, but it’s not working out. I want to continue the path of my father and mother and grandfather, and to do something for the country I belong to.

The agent’s wife Rasilah Nasar, who is 48 years old, decided a long time ago that she is Israeli, that she doesn’t want to return to Lebanon, and certainly not to Syria where she was born. She thinks that the life here is preferable. And although

23

“Today I am really coming close to one hundred percent Israeli, but until I succeed in going to the IDF, it won’t be complete”

she already made her decision, she nevertheless remains conflicted. In December of 2004, the state divided her five children into two camps. “The Ministry of Defense divided us. The two younger children were recognized as IDF orphans, and the three older ones, who were over 18 that year, were not recognized. The lack of equality within the family impacts the lives of every one of them.” Ever since, she has been trying to convince the Ministry of Defense to change its decision.

The only Druze woman

The reason for the exceptional decision of the Ministry of Defense is that Nadal, Rasilah’s husband, was not a member of the SLA. “He worked for Israeli intelligence,” she explains. “In 1998 the intelligence people contacted my husband, and asked him to leave Syria, where we lived, and to move to Lebanon. That’s what we did. After 3 months, they called again, and told him there were problems in Lebanon and we had to move to Israel. After several days, Hezbollah people came and killed him. To this day, I don’t know what the Israelis told him before he was killed, and why they wanted us to leave.”

Two years later, when Israel withdrew

24

from Lebanon, the people from Israeli intelligence told Rasilah that she and her children will be safer if they come to Israel. “They told me to be prepared to leave, and that I don’t have to bring anything except for important documents. They said it was dangerous to go back to Syria, to my family, and that Israel will protect us and help with everything that we need. When I arrived, that didn’t happen. It was not simple at all to start everything all over from the beginning.”

“The trip to the Israeli border was nerve wracking. The Israeli Army had left the Security Zone, and the Hezbollah took up positions. “Hezbollah members, who knew about our intention to escape, stopped us at a roadblock and asked us to park on the side of the road. We knew that if they would have understood who we were, they would have killed us on the spot. We escaped. The car went fast and we continued ahead. The shots chased us. Bullets hit the car, but we managed to get away.”

The move to Israel was particularly difficult for Rasilah, because she wasn’t even part of the community of SLA people who escaped. “I didn’t know anyone around me. In Lebanon I was also new. I was also the only Druze woman among Christians.” In Lebanon she was still able to speak with her parents and 9 siblings who remained in Syria, but from the moment she arrived in Israel, they were disconnected. “Four

years ago we received notice that my mother passed away. I haven’t heard anything about my family since then.

I don’t know how my father is, and whether he is alive.”

No presents

On the first night in Israel, Rasilah and her children slept in Tiberias, and afterwards in a hotel in Netanya, where they stayed for two months. “And then they told us that we must find an apartment. Ever since then, we are in Ussafia. Even today, after 12 years, I feel that I’m not from here. It hurts. I loved the life that I had there, in Syria, but I also know that here, in Israel, I received things that I couldn’t have attained anywhere else.”

In December of 2004, the SLA Members and their Families Law came into effect.

It determined, among other things, that the state must grant widows and orphans of SLA members rights equal to those of IDF widows and orphans. For Rasilah and her children, the recognition was not automatic, as with the rest of the families from Lebanon.

Basic treatment

“It’s not just money,” she clarifies, “When my son and my two older daughters got married, the Ministry of Defense did not grant them their rights to assistance – not even a small present. The youngest of her daughters, Nasrin, is 20 years old and preparing for the psychometric exam before studying accounting. She is receiving assistance from the state for financing her degree, since she has been recognized as an IDF orphan. Her younger son, Ovadiah, who is19 years old, is preparing for induction into the IDF. Her older son, Raphat, is 26. He hasn’t found work, is having a difficult time finding a profession, and doesn’t understand how his younger brother is willing to sacrifice so much for the country that doesn’t recognize his older brother. “I’ve accepted the death of my

husband, Nadal. It’s God’s will,” Rasilah admits, “but the decision of the Ministry of Defense isn’t clear. I don’t want to go against the state, because from my perspective the State of Israel is my mother and father and my whole world.

But if there will be no other choice, I will fight to help my children.”

Not giving up Unlike the other SLA members, 50 year old Amal already came to Israel in 1992.

(At her request, we are not including complete details.) After her husband was killed in Lebanon in 1986, she remained with two daughters and an 8 month old baby boy. When her son reached the age of 5, and after struggling to make a living as a widow in Lebanon, she decided to create a better life for her family.

“In southern Lebanon there was no possibility of finding good work, and the State of Israel gave me the opportunity to support myself. So I decided to work here, while the children were in boarding school in Lebanon. At first I worked in a hotel in Herzliya. I lived alone, and every three months I brought the children to visit in Israel and to learn about life here.

Their visits gave me a lot of strength to continue. I stayed here for their future.”

Regarding her husband’s death, Amal knows almost nothing, and perhaps she is also concerned about sharing details.

“Several days before my husband was killed, his father had suffered a heart attack, and that day the both of us were together with him at the hospital.

Towards evening, my husband said he has to go back to the army, but that he would come back the following day. Early in the morning I heard my daughter say, “God, bring my father back.” Then I understood that he had been killed. I also heard people talking in the village, and afterwards they brought his body.”

In 2000, Danny, her youngest child,

joined her in Israel while her two older daughters remained in Beirut. “At first we lived in Acre, from there we moved to Tiberias, and finally we moved to a rented apartment in Netanya, where the two of us still live today. I didn’t want to live at the expense of the state that gave us the apartment in Tiberias. I didn’t come here without anything, like everyone in 2000. Some people came with nothing, and really started again from the beginning. I worked for several years and became familiar with Israel, but most of all I wanted to build my life here. And I know that you don’t build a life in a day or two. It requires a lot of faith, is never easy and never perfect.”

Since the withdrawal of the IDF from Lebanon, the connection with her daughters became more complicated.

“It was hard to separate from them when the IDF withdrew from Lebanon.

In the beginning there was a real disconnection. We didn’t see each other for almost five years, and the telephone calls were also short, expensive, and rare. We didn’t know that the IDF was planning to leave Lebanon. It was a real surprise for us. We were used to going

in and out of Lebanon freely, and all of a sudden the reality changed. Today my daughters are already married, have children of their own, and we meet abroad once a year. They come with their husbands and children, and I bring Danny, their brother. The rest of the time I miss them. Even if I wasn’t living in Israel and they were in Lebanon the longing in my heart would remain. I miss them like every mother who misses her daughters that leave the house and raise their own families.”

Soon, the number of years that Amal has spent in Israel will exceed the length of time that she lived in Lebanon. “I still think a lot about my roots in Lebanon, the land, the atmosphere. I believe there is no place like the place where you were born. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed since you were there last. It will always be very exciting to return. Nothing is easy in life and we are making the effort to keep going. I am a strong woman, and I don’t give in easily.

I always took control of my life with inner strength. I struggled in order to continue.”

IDFWO for SLA widows and orphans IDFWO has from the very first moment embraced the SLA families and has seen as its mission to help SLA widows and orphans.

Unlike the Ministry of Defense, IDFWO has always given full rights and benefits to SLA widows and orphans, providing them with: Financial grants, various activities for the widows, assistance to orphans entering first grade, invitations of teen orphans to summer camps and OTZMA camps, university scholarships, wedding gifts and much more IDFWO sees in SLA families full and equal partners, doing its absolute best to make their lives just a bit easier.

25

Relaxing at the Red Sea Daniel Tuksar Last November, over 600 widows of the Israeli security forces spent a week at the Red Sea resort town of Eilat. A much needed vacation was filled with numerous activities and trips to the local attractions, while most of the time was spent on the beach, at massages, attending various classes and useful workshops. In the evenings, our women were treated to concerts, shows and movie nights, relaxing and enjoying their time in the southern resort town.

But above all, the time spent with each other was, just like every year, simply priceless, as conversations about the loved ones and the tragedies quickly developed, our women crying and laughing together, while sharing memories of their heroes.

We are all grateful to all of our supporters around the world who made this special week possible – see you in Eilat in fall of 2013!

26

27

BEING THERE FOR THOSE WHO’VE BEEN LEFT BEHIND www.idfwo.org