Oron Bira

Oron was born in 1969, the fourth child of Rivka and Avigdor. His mother Rivka, who knew Kibbutz Be’eri well since she had lived there in her youth as part of the ‘Youth Aliyah’, dreamed all her life of returning to it. After she had three children – Batya, Tal, and Amit – she managed to convince her husband to move the family from the moshav where they lived and settle in Be’eri. Oron, the eldest son, was born in the kibbutz and became independent right away at the age of six weeks in the shared sleeping quarters. He finished elementary school and high school that he attended – or some say, didn't exactly attend – in Be’eri and then enlisted in the army.

Yasmin, the new immigrant, improved her broken Hebrew, adapted to the kibbutz, and at the age of 20, even though she was exempt from army service, volunteered to serve and went with her group of fellow Nahal soldiers to settle in the north. That same year, 1992, Oron left – after finishing his military service, having worked and saved some money – for the big post-army trip: South America, treks, landscapes, new people. He worked in transportation and as a roofer. The world was all before him.

Two more years passed, Yasmin was released from her army service and moved to Jerusalem, to live in the student dormitories. She studied at a preparatory school for studies in humanities, but a year later made a U-turn and returned to the kibbutz. Oron also returned to his kibbutz after a trip of a year and a half. A lot of work awaited him. He had to complete his matriculation, to successfully complete a degree in computers, and to integrate at the work place in the kibbutz plant. He would keep the love of trips and adventures, the joy of life and daring, throughout his life.

In the dining room of Kibbutz Be’eri, taking turns washing dishes, over the large sinks, the two met. Yasmin was 26 years old. Oron was 29. She came to the kibbutz as a Bambachit – a kibbutz girl on a year off. She thought of working a little and saving some money, and found herself two years later under the wedding canopy, next to a kibbutz boy who called her ‘the light of my life’ to his friends and family, and who never stopped making her laugh until her last day. ‘Daddy’s humor’ the children called his style, which was characterized by word games.

In 2000 Tair was born, four years later Yahav was born and three more years later Tahel. A family had formed. Yasmin nursed all three of them until a late age, holding them all close to her chest. The playful, temperamental Oron also became a devoted and protective father, a great help for his children. In the job allocation between the couple and in front of the children, Yasmin was responsible for peace of mind and Oron was the one who spurred her on and strengthened her. If a daughter cried during an annual trip, called in the evening and wanted to come home, he would encourage her to overcome her difficulties and hug her when she returned, telling him: "Dad, it's good that I stayed."

As the years went by, Oron advanced further and higher in the printing house in the field of information security and in the field of loving the good life. From time to time, he took Yahav with him and together they sampled a new gourmet restaurant that had opened in Tel Aviv. Yasmin also integrated successfully at the printing factory in the technical department (coordination, production, marketing) and was considered an efficient worker with a can-do attitude. But in addition to her work, she always made sure to keep half a job available for volunteering: a shelter for toddlers in Netivot, emotional support for single mothers, integrating underprivileged populations, anything that she could do. Everything that was close to the soul. The same with the environment and with her children. She would learn her profession as an accountant while working and living and raising children and reading books and switching from one diet guru to another. "She is afraid of Sivan Ofiri," Oron laughed as she settled on the diet method that she held on to.

Yasmin talked about feelings and weaknesses, shining in her honesty and her ability to see others. Oron, for whom communication with the children was just as important, found additional ways: sports and fitness, cycling and diving, adventures, and trips. Yasmin was responsible for the budget and Oron for spending the budget. Yasmin asked to save and Oron replied: “You only live once.” Oron cooked, Yasmin baked. Oron was a fan of the Banai family of artists, and especially Ehud Banai. Yasmin was a fan of the footballer Lionel Messi. He didn't miss a show, she didn't miss a game. When Messi lost, Oron knew and the children knew, it was a sad day on which you should stay away from her.

Everyone who was close to the family knew about the special relationship, knew that each of the family members preferred to be with the family, the family came first. Five people and one dog, Poncho (who was with the family for twelve years and was also murdered), who were bound together and always with each other. They made sure to have meals together, take trips together, they shared a language and a sense of humor. A family of all for one, and one for all. And now only one is left.

Three months before the sky fell, Yasmin and Oron went to Portugal. Missing their children pushed them to make a statement: they went into a local tattoo shop and asked for a joint tattoo. When they finished, they sent the photo to the children. On their outstretched arms the children could read their names engraved on the skin: Tair, Yahav, Tahel.

On Friday, October 6, 2023, the family went out to a restaurant and a movie. Yahav's girlfriend also joined. When they parted, Yasmin and Oron and the two girls headed home, while Yahav and his girlfriend headed to his apartment in the kibbutz. On Saturday, at 10:58 the last sign of life was heard. Tair called Yahav from the Mamad (residential secure place). Screams, gunshots, silence, and words in Arabic were heard through the phone. After eleven days, all their bodies were identified in an area near the kibbutz.

The poet Rachel wrote in a poem called Matay (When) about the living dead, "The dead in whom death will never stick its sharp knife." She also wrote to Yahav from the distance of the years: "They are the only ones left to me, solely, in them only, death will not stick its sharp knife. At the turn of the road, at the dawn of day, I will be surrounded by silence, stillness will keep me company. She is a true covenant for us, an inseparable bond, only what is lost to me is my asset forever”.

 

Yahav is left with a great asset.

May Oron’s memory be blessed.