Ziv Shopen

Ziv was born in Beersheva on October 23rd, 1967, four months after the end of the Six-Day War. Eldest son of Nicole and Eli – new immigrants from Tunisia. When he was a year old, his sister Dganit was born and when he was six, his sister Shani joined the family.

He was a very happy child, smiling and bright, always surrounded by friends. Handsome. People around him would whisper, "He looks so much like Shlomo Artzi ..."

As the big brother, he looked out for his younger sisters who from an early age felt that Ziv was a kind of "mini manager". Dganit and Shani cannot forget the day that he met a boy who was irritating one of them and approached him, not threatening, not shouting, he did not try to get rid of him but simply quoted a line from a song (not Shlomo Artzi's) – " You and I will change the world".

Ziv arrived at Be'eri almost by chance. He and his sister Dganit attended the Yeelim School in Beersheva which was situated next to the Youth Aliyah building. One day, the two of them entered the building instead of going to school. Both children felt a special connection to the kibbutz movement perhaps because their father, Eli, who at the age of eight had made Aliyah to Israel alone, had joined the movement originally in Givat HaShlosha and then in Kibbutz Einat.

There, in the Youth Aliyah building in Beersheva, they underwent entrance examinations to kibbutzim and, some time later, their surprised parents received an official letter in the post: Ziv was accepted by Kibbutz Be'eri and Dganit by Afikim. So, in 10th grade, Ziv joined the Class of 1983 (Irit) in Be'eri.

This was the first class on the kibbutz which included "outsiders", and from the very first moment he integrated into the class and the kibbutz as though he had been born there. His presence, with his tight curly hair, his big smile and green eyes, was felt everywhere. This is where he met Emily, a volunteer from England, the love of his life. ("In your own way, you changed my life" she eulogised, when told he had been killed).

In the army, he served in Battalion 890 of the Paratroopers Brigade, and made them proud. He had so many nicknames and private jokes about himself and the things that he did, that no one knows if they really happened or not. Like the story where he "called times" for his soldiers without even wearing a watch, or the party in Kfar Giladi to which he made an entrance on the roof of a command car. Or the story of a young Ziv who, reaching an artillery support base in Lebanon in the late 1980s was made to spin round on the spot and call out numbers for the older soldiers playing backgammon without a dice.

Over time serving in the reserves they called him "Mozart," the guy who conducted and oversaw the soldiers' off-duty experiences, the unity and morale of the troops.

After the army, Ziv returned to the kibbutz and went off to the Far East for 18 months. He loved to travel, mostly alone, but made friends with other travelers in the countries he visited, finding out where they grew up and attempting to learn their languages.

These trips made him happy. In Japan, for instance, he got to know a family and developed a special bond. Some years later, they visited Be'eri at his invitation. When he returned from traveling, he studied refrigeration and air conditioning engineering and worked in the kibbutz, in charge of installing A/C units for all the older members who loved and appreciated him very much.

He habitually attended the Friday afternoon football games for the youngsters on the kibbutz lawn and later in the evening hung out at the Be'eri pub.

Ziv did not marry nor did he have children. His sisters’ children were like his own. They used to visit him for relaxing kibbutz weekends and he would take them out on trips – to sail or swim in Jaffa port, to eat shawarma in town or to visit a Bedouin tent where he had friends. He never ceased to be interested in the roots and history of his extended family, never stopped researching and collecting more and more information about the "Shopen Dynasty". He was a very proud uncle at his nephew Ben's recent barmitzvah. Ziv, a devoted Hapoel Beersheva fan, arranged for a film of the team's players congratulating Ben to be screened at the party and emotionally accompanied his nephew at the traditional Torah service.

To Ziv, the immigrant child, the eternal child, the sensitive songwriter, who loved Be'eri more than anything, the kibbutz was his life. The community was his family. On the morning of that black shabbat, he was in Tel Aviv enjoying his weekend espresso.

When he realized that terrorists were endangering Be'eri, he got into his car and drove home. He was stopped at four roadblocks. At each one the security forces recommended that he turn around and return to Tel Aviv. Four times he refused. Four times he continued to drive. Even when the road was blocked by abandoned vehicles, Ziv did not give up and ran on foot towards Be'eri.

He succeeded in reaching the kibbutz gate, took a weapon from one of the dead terrorists lying on the grass and ran towards the dining room. He engaged in fire. Attempted to save lives. There, he fell.

Ziv Shopen died in the battle for the kibbutz, which was his entire world. Two weeks before his fifty-sixth birthday.

It had been four decades since he arrived at the kibbutz. On the floor of his house, among the empty rifle cartridges, lay the book "1000 Places to See Before You Die".

May his memory be a blessing.