Sylvia Ohayon
Sylvia was the daughter of the late Esther and Makhlouf. She was born in Dimona on August 13, 1954, the eighth of nine children. Georgette, Devorah, Danny, David, Nurit, Shimon, and Ayala were her older siblings, and Dahlia – her younger sister. The siblings were close in age and close with each other. Nurit was Ayala, Sylvia, and Dahlia's bodyguard. They called themselves the Twin Trio, a nickname they carried into adulthood.
The kids would walk to school every day from their home on Masada Street to Afikim School, carrying “chocolate spread” sandwiches that their mother had prepared. They only split up when they had to go to their classes. The afternoons were spent out on the street, playing with friends. And there was lots of horsing around and happiness at home – the most memorable was jumping on a pile of mattresses with one of them tucked in underneath.
Sylvia’s father wanted to be “as Israeli as can be.” He spoke neither French nor Moroccan with his children – only Hebrew. Their mother, who always had trouble with Hebrew, spoke to the kids in a mixture of the three languages.
Despite the many hardships her parents faced, Sylvia did not grow up with a sense of deprivation. She saw her seemingly small world as vast and rich. Every night, in that small-vast world, she’d hear her father tell her mother about the things he’d learned that day from reading a book or the paper. Makhlouf believed in education and thought that his children would receive the finest education on a kibbutz, so, over the years, each child went to live in a different kibbutz.
When she was 13, it was Sylvia’s turn to move out. She couldn’t find her place in the local middle school and moved to Be'eri, where she quickly became part of the place that seemed like paradise to her. She became part of the family of the late Mordechai and Meira Naveh (Meira died in 2000, Mordechai was murdered on October 7, 2023). Throughout this time, she maintained strong ties with her sisters. They constantly corresponded, each from the kibbutz where she lived, and arranged to meet at home in Dimona on weekends and holidays.
Sylvia served in the IDF doing communication and encryption work. She made many new friends and maintained contact with them for years. Her friends called her Sulti because one day an announcement came over the PA system “Sultana Ohayon, come to….” Sylvia said, “Who would name their daughter Sultana?” when she remembered that Sultana was indeed her middle name – after her grandmother.
After her discharge, Sylvia became part of the Be'eri community and workforce. She worked in the infants’ homes, the cowshed, garage, communal dining room, and most recently in construction and services. She learned the details of every place, became a professional in whatever she did, and did it with all her heart. That very special heart. When she worked in the office, she took bookkeeping classes. During her time in the kitchen, she discovered her interest in the culinary arts and studied pastry making, becoming an amazing cook and baker. She used the knowledge she gained from her studies at Camera Obscura to help kibbutz film productions. She had the gift of organization and production and contributed these to the community.
She also painted and made jewelry.
Sylvia was a sportswoman. She loved swimming and bike riding. She was mindful of good nutrition, and in recent years devoted more and more time to yoga. Yoga gave her a new, illuminated perceptive on the world, and, wanting to share it with others, she began training to become a yoga teacher. She never got to complete the course.
In over four decades of life in Be'eri, Sylvia took only one year off. The kibbutz was her home, and she loved it. Kibbutz life was good for her, and she returned the good she received. But the lessons of her childhood were always with her. She insisted that the children learn that cheese and chocolate, that are “free” and unlimited, were a product of labor.
Sylvia had a great talent for connecting to people and excelled at maintaining these connections. She was a warm and generous hostess, and often hosted her family – fifteen nieces and nephews and their eighteen children. Each one had time alone with her in the animal-petting corner on the kibbutz and in the annual celebration of the flowering of the desert – the red carpets of poppies and anemones. Each of them also got a ride on her electric scooter. Her nieces and nephews all treasure the photos they have of their fun days in Be'eri. She kept up a correspondence with all of them, and even before she herself became a mother – they would turn to her for advice.
Eden, her daughter, was the love of her life. Eden was born in 1997, and Sylvia raised her practically alone, supported by the kibbutz. She dealt with Eden’s special difficulties without ever giving up. It was important to her that Eden have a relationship with her father and his new family, and to have her own warm relationship with Eden’s younger siblings. She knew, first hand, the power of strong ties. She taught her daughter everything – everything she knew and everything she believed. She was always there for Eden, and Eden was the last person with whom Sylvia spoke.
On Saturday, October 7, when the siren sounded, Sylvia locked herself in her safe room, as did all the members of Be'eri. She was on the phone with her daughter and with her own sisters. Around 8:30 am, she said that she heard shots and people speaking Arabic. At 10:30 she told Eden, “Everything’s OK.” Then – the sound of a huge explosion, and the line went dead. It took over a week of uncertainty until Eden and the family were notified of Sylvia’s death.
Sylvia smiled a lot. She overcame difficulties with kind words and laughter. She saw the good and humorous side of every situation. She was exceptionally generous, kind and welcoming. She loved life and enjoyed it. She will be remembered as she was – with a huge smile on her face. It was Eden’s request that she be buried in Dimona, alongside her parents.
May her memory be a blessing.
