Tair Bira
Tair, the eldest, was as an exceptionally bright child - "the genius of the family". It seemed as though she had inherited all of the talents. She was sensitive and realistic, she painted, wrote, sang, and taught herself guitar. She completed the full math matriculation exam, but chose to complete high school with a focus on the arts. She was a very gentle child who couldn’t harm a soul, the kind of person who asks for forgiveness even when it is others who need to ask forgiveness of her. A present big sister, she helped her siblings with their homework, advised and consulted with them, sought closeness, and sang karaoke on Fridays in the living room with Tahel. A sister who didn't cast a shadow, but rather spread light. It was good to walk in her light, and easy to hold it.
When she finished high school, she decided to do a year of national service with Na'aleh (Youth Making Aliyah before Parents), and in this framework she worked at the Kaduri Youth Village where she was given the responsibility of helping new olim acclimate into their new home. The daughter of the new immigrant from Argentina became the bridge to Israeli culture for young men and women lacking language skills – planting new roots in them and serving as a big sister for them as well. It was a significant and transformative year - a year in which she discovered her abilities.
In 2021, she enlisted in the army, serving as a non-commissioned classified weapons officer in the Tzrifin camp. She performed her duties with excellence, but upon completing her service, she longed to return home - not to a separate living unit in the kibbutz as her age entitled her to, but back home to Yahav and Tahel and her parents.
Tahel at 16, and Tair at 23 were so very young at the time of their murder. They didn't have the chance to gather a long list of life experiences, to realize much of the great loves their overflowing hearts had hoped for. They stood on the brink, full of potential, and were taken away. Adolescence is characterized by the need to differentiate and distance oneself from parents in order to grow wings. It often comes with the distancing from parents and the slamming of doors. But that's not how the children of the Bira family behaved.
Anyone close to the family knew of their special bond. They knew that each member of the family preferred to be with the others – family taking precedence over everything. Five people, and Poncho, their dog, who was a constant companion to the family for 12 years until he, too, was murdered — all intertwined with one another. They insisted on shared meals, shared trips, language, and an “internal” family language and humor. A family where each was for all and all for one.
And one remains.
Three months before the skies fell, Yasmin and Oron went to Portugal for a couples' vacation. Missing their children pushed them to act: they entered a local tattoo parlor and requested identical tattoos. When they emerged, they sent a photo to the kids: on their outstretched arms, the children could read their names engraved on their parents’ skin: Tair, Yahav, Tahel.
On Friday, October 6, 2023, the family went out to dinner and a movie. Yahav's girlfriend joined them. When they parted, Yasmin and Oron went home with the two girls, while Yahav and his girlfriend headed to his apartment on the kibbutz. On Shabbat, at 10:58, the last sign of life was heard. Tair called Yahav from their safe room. Through the phone were heard screams, gunfire, silence, and then words in Arabic. Eleven days later, all of their bodies were found in the field next to the kibbutz.
Rachel the poet wrote in a poem called "My Dead” about the living dead, the dead in whom death will never thrust its sharp knife.
From a distance of years, she wrote:
"In whom death's sharp knife has nothing left to kill.
They alone are left me, they are with me still
At the turn of highways, when the sun is low,
They come round in silence, going where I go
Ours is a true pact, a tie no time can sever.
Only what I've lost is what I keep forever.”
(Translation by A.Z. Foreman)
Yahav has been left with an overwhelming legacy.
May Tair’s memory be blessed.
