We immigrated to Israel on November 6, 1949, went straight to Ein Shemer and then we were moved to Rosh Ha’ayin. I immigrated together with my parents, Yehia and Rina Wahab, and with my siblings, Yehiel, Yona, Yehudit and baby Baruch, who my mother carried in her arms the entire journey and nursed him. We slept in tents. We were given blankets left from the British mandate and we slept two people in one bed.

My brother, Baruch, was 11 months old when he was kidnapped. I remember that day well. It was snowing. The nurse came by and said that it’s not good for the baby to get cold, so he must be taken to the children’s home (today the Museum of Jewish Heritage Yemen), where they had heating. The next day, my mother came to see him and was told that Baruch had died. She started screaming and crying. Someone grabbed her arm and dragged her away with force. No one gave her a death certificate. I remember well that there were two white beds - one for our cousin, Shalom Wahab, and one for Baruch Wahab. They left Shalom there and took Baruch. He was probably quite light-skinned. I am too. No one can tell I am Yemenite.

We have not heard of him for years afterwards. In 1963, maybe a little before, when everyone received their draft orders, he received two - one after the other. A jeep with four soldiers came looking for him one day. They thought he was a deserter. He was also sent a voter’s notice. My mother gave birth to a son after him, also named Baruch, after the baby that was kidnapped (Yoel and Yair were born after that). When the soldiers came, my mother pointed at him and said, “This is Baruch, named after the child that was stolen from me.”

When we were looking for information, one document said that he emigrated in 63, at the age of 14. We found a document according to which he is 64 years old and his place of residence is unknown. In 1994, when the whole Uzi Meshulam story broke out, we received a phone call saying: “Your son is with the Giovanni family,” the call was hung up and we didn’t get a chance to ask anything beyond that.

When the Shalgi investigation committee was instated, I went as a representative of the family to Beit Agron in Jerusalem. They took photographs and recorded us. I remember the judge said that Baruch died and was buried at the Sgula cemetery, in plot so and so. We went to the gravesite and dug - there was nothing there, not even a bone or a skull, which usually endure this long. During the investigation, we were told to testify to the police. We showed them the immigration documents of father and mother. They have not given us these documents back till this very day.