Yasmin Bira
Yasmin was born in 1971 in Buenos Aires to Leon and Dora, an identical twin to Dalia and younger sister to Dana. Their parents instilled in them Zionist values and a love for their homeland, and, despite the financial difficulty, they sent Yasmin and her sisters to the private Jewish school, Golda Meir. At the age of 19, after completing high school with a focus on the sciences, the twins decided to make Aliyah and settle in Kibbutz Sde Boker, eventually drawing their entire family to follow them.
Yasmin, a new immigrant, improved her broken Hebrew, adapted to kibbutz life, and at the age of 20, despite being officially exempt from military service, chose to volunteer. She joined a Nahal unit that would settle a new community in Israel’s North. In that same year, 1992, Oron, following his release from the army and after working to save some money, set out on a post-army journey: South America, trekking, beautiful landscapes, meeting new people. He worked in construction and as a roof installer. The world opened up to him.
Two more years passed. Yasmin completed her service and moved to Jerusalem to live in the student dormitories. She studied in a preparatory program to prepare herself for a degree in humanities, but after a year she chose to discontinue this path, and returned to the kibbutz. Likewise, after a year-and-a-half-long journey, Oron returned to his kibbutz with his work cut out for him: he needed to take his matriculation exams, complete a degree in computer science, and integrate into work at the kibbutz factory. He would keep his love for traveling and adventure, along with his zest for life, throughout his life.
In the dining hall of Kibbutz Be'eri, as they washed dishes over the large kibbutz sinks, the two met. Yasmin, 26. Oron, 29. She’d come to the kibbutz as a farmhand. Her plan was to work for a year and save some money, but she found herself, two years later, under the chuppah next to a farm boy who called her "The Light of My Life”, and didn’t cease making her laugh until his dying day. "Dad's humor" is what his children dubbed his jokes characterized by wordplays.
In 2000, Tair was born, followed by Yahav four years later, and three years later, Tahel. A family was formed. Yasmin nursed all three until a late age, holding them close to her. Even the mischievous, stormy Oron became a dedicated and gentle father, a solid support for his children. In the parental division, common among many couples, Yasmin emphasized the concern for their children’s mental well-being and inner peace, while Oron encouraged resilience. If one of the girls would call home crying from an overnight school trip, saying she wants to come home, Oron would encourage her to remain, not to give in. Upon her return, he’d hug her and she’d invariably say, "Dad, it's good I stayed."
Years passed; Oron advanced further and further in his work at the print shop in the field of information security and in the pursuit of the good life. Occasionally, he’d steal Yahav away, and together they’d try out Tel Aviv’s newest gourmet restaurant. Yasmin also successfully integrated into the printing factory in the coordination, production, and marketing department, and was considered a meticulous and visionary worker. But alongside her work, she always made sure to reserve half of her time for volunteering: a daycare center for toddlers in Netivot, emotional support for single mothers, integration of marginalized populations—anything she possibly could. Anything in the realm of emotional well-being. Both with the environment and with her children. Her profession as an accountant manager she learned amidst work, life, raising children, reading books, and transitioning from one diet guru to another. "She's afraid of the Sivan Ofiri," Oron joked when she settled on the diet regime of this particular weight-loss coach.
Yasmin would speak openly about emotions and weaknesses, and she stood out for her candor and for her ability to see the other. Oron, for whom communication with the children was equally important, found additional ways: sports and fitness, biking and scuba diving, adventures and trips. Yasmin was responsible for the budget, and Oron for spending it. Yasmin sought to save, and Oron responded, "You only live once." Oron cooked, Yasmin baked. Oron adored the musical Banai clan, especially Ehud Banai. Yasmin adored the soccer star Lionel Messi. Oron didn't miss a single concert, she never missed a game. When Messi lost a game, Oron and the kids knew it was a day of mourning and a good idea to keep their distance.
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.
Now only 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 Yasmin’s memory be blessed.
