I am Ozeri Yihieh, I arrived from Yemen. A few years ago, we suffered greatly when we arrived in this country. There was no work, nothing. I got married in the rabbinical court in Safed. I moved to Tzuriel, near Tarshiha. There, between Pki'in and Hurfeish, we worked at clearing stones. They built houses for us, with a room and a half in each unit. My eldest son, Shmuel, was born. My wife's name was Sarah. In Yemeni (her name) is Zahra. I met her in Ein Shemer. I already… bereft of three, a wife and two sons. In short, I met her. Shmuel was born, then Yoel, and then Yoram. And then we moved here, to Moshav Geulim.

When I arrived in Hashed Camp (in Yemen, before I came to Israel), it was in the month of Elul (August, late summer) Hot. Sand everywhere. There was a fence and three tents. Sand was the mattress, and the sky was the blanket. My hands assembled tents on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur to save people. Everything there was sand. I buried dead people with my own hands.

Then they robbed us; the workers who came here from Yemen. They stole whole libraries. Jewellery. I think that this is what caused my father's death…'Garah galbo', as they say (Yemeni Arabic) – it exploded his heart. My mother had somalias, ma’anaka, lazan – silver jewellery. We did not see them at all. They took all the property from everybody. They said that they would bring it later. When we arrived here, and asked about the whereabouts of our things, they said 'the warehouse burnt down'. Gone. Just like they took the children.

When my wife went into labour, I went to visit her. Another family by the name of Ozeri came and the name of the woman giving birth there was also called Sarah. When somebody would call for 'Sarah Ozeri,’ they would both reply. I approached the family, spoke to the husband and we tried to figure out where each of us arrived from and how we are connected or related. On my second visit, I heard my wife cry. They took the child. They said that he was weak and that they will take him to WIZO. The son of the other Ozeri had his brit milah (ritual circumcision) that very day. They had a brit and we had WIZO. The child was five days old. I went to WIZO Tel Aviv a few times. Nice boy, beautiful and all. On the fifth visit, they told me that he was dead. When I asked them to bring him to me dead, they answered 'we will bury him.'

On the other hand, to tell you the truth, we had no cemetery. When I buried a girl, I had a daughter… I buried her a few kilometres away from here, and another man buried his son. It was at a place where they told me that two adults were buried too. After that, the Jewish Agency carried out a deep ploughing. Ever since then I did not find anything. No remains, not one bone. They grew potatoes there, and once they grew peanuts. Only ten years later we were authorised a joint cemetery with Tzur Moshe.

That was out fourth child, the one who disappeared at WIZO. I have more boys and girls thank God. My wife gave birth to him in Meir Hospital, where Geller is nowadays. They told her he was weak and that at WIZO he will receive better treatment. Where is WIZO? Tel Aviv. I went to see him; he was in good condition; they showed him to me through the window. On the fifth time, when they did not let me have him, I sat there and cried out to the heavens.