Sami Keidar
Sami was born in Tel Aviv in 1953, the eldest child of Rachel-Mina and Viktor Kardi – immigrants from Egypt who met in Israel. His sister, Suzi, was born when he was three and his younger brother, Avi, was born when he was seven – three siblings who enjoyed a warm and loving relationship. Their father, Viktor, worked as an orderly at Ichilov Hospital and Rachel-Mina worked in a textile factory.
Sami went to the Magen elementary school in Maoz Aviv. He was a quiet, introverted child, an average student who did not particularly excel in academics, but he did stand out in Hatzofim, the Scouts. He was devoted to the group's activities and missed none. Even in high school, studying metalworking at the Shevach vocational high school, Sami would listen to the Friday night kiddush at home then head out to join his friends from Hatzofim - much to his father's chagrin.
His second love was music. Sami particularly enjoyed the songs of The Beatles and played them on a guitar that he received as a present from his parents. He learned to play on his own because his parents didn't have the money to pay for lessons. He eventually switched to electric guitar and was a member of a band in Hatzofim. On graduation from high school, he continued into army service as a 'garin' in Nachal together with his friends from Hatzofim.
When Sami was 20, his father passed away from a heart attack. Rachel-Mina started work at Bank Leumi and raised the children alone, serving as a model of emotional fortitude and spiritual strength. Her daughter, Suzi, remembers her as an 'iron lady' – "a redhead in looks and in spirit" – who let nothing stand in her way. Iron – as both a principle and a material – would play an important role throughout Sami's life.
Sami and his Scouts group were sent to the El-Rom settlement, where he met Ofra and fell in love at first sight. He courted her for a full year until she accepted him, and the two were married in 1977. After the wedding, they moved to Tel Aviv and Sami began studying mechanical engineering at the Technion, commuting from Tel Aviv. Ofra, however, who grew up in Be'eri, wanted to return home. After less than a year in the big city, the couple moved to the kibbutz.
Shortly after, their first child, Elad, was born. Oran and Yael were born several years later, a year between them – Oran in 1981 and Yael in 1982. Their three children live on the kibbutz to this day. They recall a warm and sensitive father, who hugged and kissed and listened – and always found solutions. He was, with all his heart and soul, a family man. The years when his children slept with the other kibbutz children were a misery to him. He wanted his children beside him.
Sami began his professional career in the agricultural mechanization department. He repaired machines and constructed agricultural tools while completing his mechanical engineering degree at Ruppin College. Thanks to his training in metalwork and his hands of gold, he established the kibbutz vehicle body shop. Later, he would build the horse stables with his own hands, and - when the kibbutz decided to raise ostriches in the 1990s – Sami was the one who designed and built the fence, the cages, and the enclosures. It seemed like Sami was always building something, whether it was metal trailers for friends' bicycles, pergolas, or a three-person swing – which included a headrest, footrest, and folding trays for coffee. His hands also produced wooden toys for the kibbutz children. Oran and Elad remember how he would soak boards in the bathtub, to get them wet so they would become pliable. His sons also remember traveling with him once to Tel Aviv to buy materials with which he built a wonderful complete miniature city, with bridges and tunnels, for their electric trains.
Sami built Chanuka menorahs using an innovative combination of metal and wood. He won first place in the annual kibbutz Chanuka menorah contest three times in a row. The fourth year, he was politely requested not to participate – because he always won! The large menorah which was used for the communal lighting was also his work. He had an innate talent and a creative mind. Every idea that Ofra would suggest would soon become a sketch on paper and a reality in wood and metal. When his daughter Yael broke her leg and struggled to get up the 15 steps to her home, Sami built a metal chairlift that rode on the railing, to make it easier for her. Needless to say, he did all the repairs at home.
At work, Sami was a perfectionist. His exactitude led to a slower work pace that sometimes annoyed the others. When someone would complain, Sami calmly replied that he worked slowly – but precisely – so that no one would need to return for repairs. Many kibbutz members learned the secrets of metalwork from Sami – along with his dedication to precision. His children recall that he was not actually particularly eager to teach his own sons. They did, however, absorb the following iron rule: don't cut corners and do the job right.
The introverted boy grew to be an introverted man. Sami was not a person who sought recognition or honors. He was also not a big conversationalist – but his work could be found throughout Be'eri. Quietly, humbly, forever giving, without drawing attention to himself. His devotion to his family was as steady as the buildings he built. His sister recounts how when their mother was ill, Sami traveled from Be'eri to Tel Aviv whenever she needed him, day or night, no matter when. Fifteen years ago, Sami became ill and his condition deteriorated to the point where he needed a home care aide. His eldest granddaughter, 17-year-old Argaman, had the privilege of knowing him as a busy man. Five further grandchildren knew a slightly different grandfather. Last Rosh Hashana, the whole family got together: children, grandchildren, sister Suzi from Tel Aviv and brother Avi from Portugal. None of them could have guessed that this would be the last time.
Sami was murdered during the Hamas attack but left behind him an extraordinary legacy, both spiritual and material. The woodwork obviously did not survive the fire, but his metalwork can be found spread throughout Be'eri. On the outskirts of the kibbutz stand the ostrich farm and the horse stables that he built with his skillful hands, slowly but sturdily. His spiritual legacy remains as no fire can destroy it. Even now, at his gravesite, it is clear and rock steady: love for his family, unconditional giving, and the simple command - be a mensch. That was Sami Keidar.
May his memory be blessed.
