My parents, the late Yosef and Bubba Rubin, emigrated from Tripoli, Libya, in the middle of 1950. They came to Israel with 3 toddlers, while my mother was in advanced pregnancy with Amos, my brother who disappeared.

They were moved to the Pardesiya (Beit Lid) immigrant camp, where my mother gave birth to Amos.

When Amos was 6 or 8 month old he felt unwell. My mother, together with her brother, Rephael, who was a soldier at that time, took him to the clinic in Pardesiya. My uncle recalls there were dozens of babies there (from what I read in the newspaper about this place, there were 60 babies with one nurse). They were asked to leave Amos there and come back later. My mother went to check how her kids were, after having left them with my father. When she returned to the clinic in the evening, they told her the child had died and been buried. They were sent to a place where there were old graves of children, with no small heaps of earth indicating any recent burial activity. When she returned there with her brother, the staff were angry and expelled them from the clinic.

My mother, may she rest in peace, has never spoken about what happened, and my parents took their grief to their graves.

Amos, my brother, was named after Amos Baranes, my mother's brother who died in the War of Independence. This is for the glory of the State of Israel.