Mother's name was Rivka, and her father's name was Michael. Mother was born in 1915 in Jerusalem, at Hadassah Har Hatzofim (Mount Scopus) hospital. Father was born in India and came here with the Indian army at the age of 8-9, during World War 1. My sister Rachel had passed away since then, as did my brother Gabi. And there was my sister Haya Margalit, may she live a long life, Jacob - me, and there's another brother named Itzhak.

We lived in a poor neighborhood, Nachlaot. We were seven people in a rented room - a kitchen, a toilet, and a shower. We had only two beds, and my brother slept on a mattress on the floor. We had no running water or electricity. We would wash our hands outside of the house and go outside whenever someone had to take a shower. The brothers left home at an early age because of the conditions and moved to Kibbutzim. Only in 1963 did we leave the neighborhood and move to a housing project. We were one of the most difficult cases in the neighborhood.

A social worker would visit us and say there's not enough space to raise another child here. I think it was her who made sure the child won't arrive to our house, moved him elsewhere.

In 1952 or 1953 (we're not sure about the exact year), I (Jacob) was five years old and Margalit was seven. Margalit remembers mother being pregnant with him. He was born in the old Sha'arei Tzedek Hospital, a religious hospital in Jaffa Street in Jerusalem.

Mother had planned to name him Michael, after grandfather, but he still didn't have his circumcision ceremony. Mother indicated that he was born healthy and beautiful as a moon (Qamar in Arabic), with a normal weight, and said he was brought to her to be breastfed. On the fourth day others were brought their children to breastfeed, but not her. She was told he had passed away. Passed how? Yesterday he was healthy. They said they buried him. Margalit remembers mother coming back home crying, saying "They took away our child". Mother cried very much because she wanted to name him after the grandfather. She took it very hard - died at a relatively early age, it stayed with her. They took advantage of the innocent people like my mother, those who didn't know how to read and write. I went to look for the grave a few years ago and found no trace of it. The files should be somewhere in the archive of the old hospital on Jaffa Street. In our minds we know we have a brother; it was passed on to us from my mother. It makes a lot of sense, unfortunately.

Testimony by: The siblings: Jacob Shoval, Margalit Rubinstein.