Itai Svirsky Life Story Itai was murdered on January 13. His body was recovered and brought back to Israel. On Friday, December 6, we are bringing him home to be buried in the soil of Kibbutz Be’eri, in the place reserved for him — between his parents and next to his grandfather, Bamik. Itai was born on Kibbutz Be’eri on February 17, 1985, the third child of Rafi, a member of the Garin "Abir", and Orit, daughter of Aviva and Bemik Sela, founders of the kibbutz. Orit and Rafi raised his older siblings, Merav and Yonatan, in Givatayim until the kibbutz decided to abolish communal sleeping arrangements. They returned to Be’eri a few months before Itai was born. Later, the youngest son, Yuval, joined the family. The young Savirsky family was passionately committed to the kibbutz, much like the founding generation, yet with a critical eye and a creative, open-minded approach to change. They held key responsibilities: Orit in print management and the social sphere, and Rafi in economy. Itai’s human devotion and his constant desire to be there for others was a trait he gleaned from home. Itai was a curious and sensitive child with golden curls and a timid half-smile. Even in his childhood photos, one could see his kind eyes and observant, empathetic gaze. Alongside his sensitivity, his athletic talents stood out from a young age, beginning with the Be’eri mini-basketball team, continuing through Dov’s tennis lessons, and on to soccer—a great talent that wasn’t fully realized, perhaps due to his equal knack for getting injured during play. His friends in the "Tapuach" class recall him being a level above everyone else, always teaching us a thing or two on the field. Beyond his talent and enjoyment of sports, Itai was a devoted fan of Maccabi Tel Aviv, spending much time with friends and family watching soccer games. In his teenage years, Itai’s love for music blossomed. He studied voice training, enjoyed playing guitar and piano, and especially loved the works of Eviatar Banai and Amir Lev. Merav describes their family as a "house of boys," with sibling spats that was actually a way the brothers expressed their care for one another. Itai’s second home was with his grandparents, Aviva and Bemik—a place where he could simply be himself, free of questions and demands. He spent nearly every afternoon there, enjoying his grandmother’s plates of fruit and cakes until his parents returned from work. Saturdays added his grandfather’s fries and salad, and many cousins playing on the lawn outside. Another significant home was Aviva’s apartment near Habima Auditorium in Tel Aviv, a family destination for weekend visits and annual vacations filled with the excitement of the big city. Meals at Aharoni’s Chinese restaurant, Itai’s favorite, were never missed. From a young age, Itai grappled with philosophical questions about life and human nature. In high school, he studied Jewish thought, relishing the discussions and the opportunity to explore fundamental questions with depth and an open mind. He continued to engage in philosophical debates everywhere, with a genuine curiosity and a willingness to truly listen and learn. After a delayed enlistment due to a sports injury, Itai served in the Air Control Unit. Upon completing his service, he traveled to India and upon his return, alternated between Be’eri and Tel Aviv before settling in the city. In 2010, he began studying for a bachelor’s degree in psychology and philosophy at Tel Aviv University. His quest for the "perfect path" did not skip his studies—he switched from philosophy to economics, then to general studies, later completing a master’s degree in business administration. In recent years, Itai discovered the Satya method through his mother and Aunt Osnat. Starting as a participant, he completed the coaching course in 2023 and began taking steps as a coach. Friends and family who trained with him during his studies spoke of his remarkable ability to deeply connect with people, listen attentively, and reflect what he heard. For the first time, it seemed he had found his professional calling. Curiosity also led him to Brazilian jiu-jitsu, which became integral to his life over the past two and a half years. Initially hesitant about its intensity and physical aggressivity, he overcame his fears, and his athletic talent shined through. Training four times a week, he also incorporated Muay Thai and Mixed Martial Arts, creating deep bonds with his teammates and becoming a beloved member of his club. Above all, Itai cherished time with his family, always available to help with care and concern. He shared warm relationships with his aunts, uncles, and cousins, and became the perfect uncle to Merav and Dan’s sons, Keynan and Elam. He lovingly cared for his father, Rafi, during his recovery from a heart attack, and frequently shared cherished “Tel Aviv time” with him and his brother Yonatan. His unique bond with his grandmother Aviva brought him to the kibbutz almost every weekend, showing his devotion and spending quality time. On Friday, October 6, Itai was in Be’eri with his family, as he often was on weekends. The brutal attack on the kibbutz caught him at Orit’s home. They took shelter in the fortified room amidst gunfire and shouting, and maintained a connection with the family through their family WhatsApp. Gradually, communication with family members was severed: first with Rafi, then with Itai, and lastly with Orit. She sent a heart emoji. And then another. Orit and Rafi were murdered in Be’eri on October 7. Itai’s fate remained uncertain until the family received indications he had been abducted to Gaza. Fifty days later, survivors who were held captive with him reported he had seen his mother killed and asked them to convey a plea to Merav: to do everything possible to save him. Despite tireless efforts, on the 97th day of captivity, the building where Itai, Noa Argamani, and Yossi Sharabi were held collapsed due to an airstrike. Itai survived the collapse but was murdered two days later by his captors. Even under inhumane conditions, Itai remained true to himself: resourceful, resilient, and emotionally present for others—a confidant, a listener, a source of support. Itai’s tragic death stands in stark contrast to his life and character: a man of connection, humanity, and compassion; sensitive, kind, and always seeking peace and goodness. When asked during his Satya training what kind of coach he aspired to be, he said: “Calm, humble, compassionate, and with a sense of humor.” That is who he wanted to be. That is who he was. And that is how we will always remember him. May his memory be a blessing. Back 17.02.1985 - 13.01.2024 38 years old

Oron Bira Life Story Oron was born in 1969, the fourth child of Rivka and Avigdor. His mother Rivka, who knew Kibbutz Be’eri well since she had lived there in her youth as part of the ‘Youth Aliyah’, dreamed all her life of returning to it. After she had three children – Batya, Tal, and Amit – she managed to convince her husband to move the family from the moshav where they lived and settle in Be’eri. Oron, the eldest son, was born in the kibbutz and became independent right away at the age of six weeks in the shared sleeping quarters. He finished elementary school and high school that he attended – or some say, didn't exactly attend – in Be’eri and then enlisted in the army. Yasmin, the new immigrant, improved her broken Hebrew, adapted to the kibbutz, and at the age of 20, even though she was exempt from army service, volunteered to serve and went with her group of fellow Nahal soldiers to settle in the north. That same year, 1992, Oron left – after finishing his military service, having worked and saved some money – for the big post-army trip: South America, treks, landscapes, new people. He worked in transportation and as a roofer. The world was all before him. Two more years passed, Yasmin was released from her army service and moved to Jerusalem, to live in the student dormitories. She studied at a preparatory school for studies in humanities, but a year later made a U-turn and returned to the kibbutz. Oron also returned to his kibbutz after a trip of a year and a half. A lot of work awaited him. He had to complete his matriculation, to successfully complete a degree in computers, and to integrate at the work place in the kibbutz plant. He would keep the love of trips and adventures, the joy of life and daring, throughout his life. In the dining room of Kibbutz Be’eri, taking turns washing dishes, over the large sinks, the two met. Yasmin was 26 years old. Oron was 29. She came to the kibbutz as a Bambachit – a kibbutz girl on a year off. She thought of working a little and saving some money, and found herself two years later under the wedding canopy, next to a kibbutz boy who called her ‘the light of my life’ to his friends and family, and who never stopped making her laugh until her last day. ‘Daddy’s humor’ the children called his style, which was characterized by word games. In 2000 Tair was born, four years later Yahav was born and three more years later Tahel. A family had formed. Yasmin nursed all three of them until a late age, holding them all close to her chest. The playful, temperamental Oron also became a devoted and protective father, a great help for his children. In the job allocation between the couple and in front of the children, Yasmin was responsible for peace of mind and Oron was the one who spurred her on and strengthened her. If a daughter cried during an annual trip, called in the evening and wanted to come home, he would encourage her to overcome her difficulties and hug her when she returned, telling him: "Dad, it's good that I stayed." As the years went by, Oron advanced further and higher in the printing house in the field of information security and in the field of loving the good life. From time to time, he took Yahav with him and together they sampled a new gourmet restaurant that had opened in Tel Aviv. Yasmin also integrated successfully at the printing factory in the technical department (coordination, production, marketing) and was considered an efficient worker with a can-do attitude. But in addition to her work, she always made sure to keep half a job available for volunteering: a shelter for toddlers in Netivot, emotional support for single mothers, integrating underprivileged populations, anything that she could do. Everything that was close to the soul. The same with the environment and with her children. She would learn her profession as an accountant while working and living and raising children and reading books and switching from one diet guru to another. "She is afraid of Sivan Ofiri," Oron laughed as she settled on the diet method that she held on to. Yasmin talked about feelings and weaknesses, shining in her honesty and her ability to see others. Oron, for whom communication with the children was just as important, found additional ways: sports and fitness, cycling and diving, adventures, and trips. Yasmin was responsible for the budget and Oron for spending the budget. Yasmin asked to save and Oron replied: “You only live once.” Oron cooked, Yasmin baked. Oron was a fan of the Banai family of artists, and especially Ehud Banai. Yasmin was a fan of the footballer Lionel Messi. He didn't miss a show, she didn't miss a game. When Messi lost, Oron knew and the children knew, it was a sad day on which you should stay away from her. Everyone who was close to the family knew about the special relationship, knew that each of the family members preferred to be with the family, the family came first. Five people and one dog, Poncho (who was with the family for twelve years and was also murdered), who were bound together and always with each other. They made sure to have meals together, take trips together, they shared a language and a sense of humor. A family of all for one, and one for all. And now only one is left. Three months before the sky fell, Yasmin and Oron went to Portugal. Missing their children pushed them to make a statement: they went into a local tattoo shop and asked for a joint tattoo. When they finished, they sent the photo to the children. On their outstretched arms the children could read their names engraved on the skin: Tair, Yahav, Tahel. On Friday, October 6, 2023, the family went out to a restaurant and a movie. Yahav's girlfriend also joined. When they parted, Yasmin and Oron and the two girls headed home, while Yahav and his girlfriend headed to his apartment in the kibbutz. On Saturday, at 10:58 the last sign of life was heard. Tair called Yahav from the Mamad (residential secure place). Screams, gunshots, silence, and words in Arabic were heard through the phone. After eleven days, all their bodies were identified in an area near the kibbutz. The poet Rachel wrote in a poem called Matay (When) about the living dead, "The dead in whom death will never stick its sharp knife." She also wrote to Yahav from the distance of the years: "They are the only ones left to me, solely, in them only, death will not stick its sharp knife. At the turn of the road, at the dawn of day, I will be surrounded by silence, stillness will keep me company. She is a true covenant for us, an inseparable bond, only what is lost to me is my asset forever”. Yahav is left with a great asset. May Oron’s memory be blessed. Back 29.04.1969 - 07.10.2023 54 years old

Lilach Kipnis Life Story Lilach was born on August 9, 1963, in Kibbutz Be'eri, to Avraham and Rena Havron. Avraham, who was born in Germany and came to Jerusalem as a child on the eve of World War II, was one of the founders of Be'eri. On the kibbutz, he was known as a renowned dairy farmer and a pioneer in biological pest control. Rena, born in Tel Aviv, was also one of the founders of Be'eri, who went on to become a writer, an expert about the land, and a teacher. Lilach, their fourth child, was a sister to Dudu, Aviv, and Shoshan. She had a forthright and close relationship with her parents, who were blessed with long lives. She cared for them with deep devotion until their final days. As a radiant and playful young girl, Lilach made a distinct impression. She was especially alert to others and sensitive to discrimination and inequity. She grew up in the shared accommodations of the time, as a member of the “Kitat Omer", where she formed strong friendships. From her parents’ house she was endowed with a love of science and writing. Additionally, her parents took her for many hiking trips which led to a love of the land, even though she later became less enthusiastic about hiking. Lilach's intelligence, eloquence, and natural leadership qualities were evident from an early age. When helping the local children, she always tried to overcome social challenges and complexities, which only intensified whenever new children joined the kibbutz. Over time, she became the youth coordinator for the junior high members of the kibbutz. Later, she left the kibbutz for a year of national service, working with youth in the city of Kfar Saba and then, as part of her military service, she transitioned into being a social worker in HaShomer Farm. There she helped rehabilitate and support troubled soldiers, who came from underprivileged families, which led to them being called “the Raful Boys.” “Raful” was a nickname for the Chief of Staff, Rafael Eitan, who happened to be a member of Lilach’s family. Hence, working with that group felt like coming full circle. After the army, the time for studies had arrived, giving Lilach another opportunity to convey her personality. She earned a bachelor’s degree in social work at the Hebrew University, followed by a master’s degree in art therapy at Ben Gurion University, and then completed a certificate program at the psychotherapy school at Bar Ilan University. While studying in Jerusalem, she engaged in political activity, taking part in the weekly demonstrations at Paris Square that were organized by the “Women in Black” movement, who expressed their stance against violence and against the occupation. At that time, she met Tari (Eviatar) Kipnis. Their souls immediately connected and never separated. Tari, who was born on Kibbutz Ma’agan Michael, was also a student and had been in the Navy. He worked on yachts in those days, and Lilach joined the adventures. That’s how they were able to travel the world, making a good living and living very happily. When they realized that they were meant for each other, they decided to go to Lilach’s kibbutz for a trial year. That year turned into a whole life on Be'eri. The couple’s two children were born there: Yotam and, two years later, Nadav. After six years of working on the kibbutz as the human resources manager at the Beeri printing office, Lilach decided to return to her original profession, social work. Many hundreds of people — including children, teenagers, soldiers, and adults — benefited from her decision. Many of them saw her as a savior of souls, a second mother, and later as a grandmother. Lilach enjoyed her family and kibbutz life. She loved to bake, host people, be silly sometimes, and also put together a respectable collection of cat figurines. Last August she celebrated her 60th birthday and, as a birthday present to herself, she chose to learn Arabic directly from native speakers: the Bedouins of the neighboring town of Rahat. At the heart of Lilach’s professional work there was always trauma. She would notice the pain around her and, in response, looked for creative ways to help each person find strength and peace within themselves. She held a deep belief that these complex situations could be treated. In her work, she combined games, movement exercises, and creativity. These methods, which she grew to believe in through her practice, she would even use on herself and her children. For many people, Lilach was a beacon of light. Even in the densest darkness, she knew how to identify and map out paths that led to the light. Even in the face of hardship and cruelty, she remained a loving and optimistic person. Lilach would always avoid judgement and remain empathetic, keeping the patient's needs at the center of her work. About two years ago, the children of the Eshkol Regional Council received a special gift: "The Trigger Song." It was a gentle children’s story, told in rhyming verse, and born out of her many meetings with the children of the “Resilience Center,” who live in ongoing states of emergency. Her book was born of the desire not to disregard children’s concerns. Instead, Lilach sought to validate the fears of those children. For the recurring motif of the book, she wrote: “Don’t be afraid, you’re now protected. Everything here is fine. Now you can relax. Slowly let go. Breathe deeply. Drink a little. Choose whatever makes you feel good.” Lilach is no longer with us, but her book is making its way around the world. It passes among parents, teachers, and educators. It gives much needed support to children all over the country. It is impossible to mistake this effect for anything but a trace of Lilach's warmth, kindness, and wisdom. In the terrible darkness, Lilach has been an inspiration to all of us. She left behind a voice of clarity and hope, which will never stop. May her memory be a blessing. Back 09.08.1963 - 07.10.2023 60 years old

Haggi Avni Life Story Haggi was born to Pnina and Amotz Avni in Be'eri fifty years ago, on the eve of Rosh Hashanah 1973. He was the second child – the younger brother to Adi and older brother to Yahel. After his father remarried, he had three step-siblings – Omri, Ayelet, and Chenni, and two half-siblings – Dandan and Sahar. Chenni, Haggi’s next-door neighbor was also murdered on October 7, together with his wife Rinat and their children Allon and Ido. Pnina met Amotz in Beit Govrin, where kibbutz members came to help new settlements. She joined him in Be'eri where they built their home. Shmulik, Haggi’s grandfather, was among the founders of Be'eri. The two had a special bond that continued into the next generation. Haggi was a handsome boy – and a handful. A good boy with a heart of gold. He always volunteered for everything. He loved sports, especially basketball. He was surrounded by friends. In school he dealt with dyslexia and ADD, in the days when such disorders were unknown and were not treated. His father was often called to school to calm him down. As he grew older, he learned to deal with these difficulties and was loved by all. Haggi was drafted when he was 18, and served as a combat soldier in the armored infantry. When on duty in Judea and Samaria, and the soldiers were required to enter civilians’ home, he would not let anyone hurt them. Later he served in an elite intelligence unit and was stationed in Lebanon. He concealed his whereabouts from his mother, not wanting to worry her. It was only years later that he told her what he had been through: One day, when they were distributing rations to the units, his AMC got stuck and no one noticed. His commanding officer continued his rounds and Haggi remained behind. Fortunately, he saw a Lebanese man approaching and, of course, managed to convince the man to help him out, and even bring help to get the vehicle moving. He always managed to get out of trouble. Following his military service, Haggi went to Eilat, where he was a successful scuba-diving instructor. It was there, at the Dolphin Reef, that he exhibited his sensitivity by identifying people afraid of water and diving, helping them overcome their fears and difficulties and emerging empowered with a sense of success. Adi also worked at the reef, where she was editing films about marine life. While diving and teaching, Haggi also sent messages that somehow found their way to Adi. They fell in love, became a couple, and married three years later. They lived in Eilat, then moved to Tel Aviv. They traveled to the Far East and Mexico. They returned to Be'eri a year after their wedding. When they settled on the kibbutz, Haggi worked in the printing house. But the closed quarters and fluorescent lights didn’t agree with him. He loved the land and preferred working in the open air, and this led to "Hagigi", the gardening and event-designing business he established. He loved this work and woke up each morning with a smile on his face. He designed most of the yards and gardens in Be'eri and created the sets for all the holiday celebrations. He bought old carts and wagons, refurbished them, and turned them into flower beds, placing them all over the kibbutz. His handiwork was everywhere. When the kibbutz was being plagued by the incendiary balloons launched from Gaza, Haggi was the first to go and extinguish the fire in the burning fields. Haggi and Adi’s love was a great one. They complemented each other and raised a wonderful family. Their firstborn, Reef, was born in 2005, and he was followed by Yam (2006), Bar (2009), Gev (2012) and Ileel (2015). Haggi was an exemplary family man, able to foster each child’s talent and abilities. Reef is a photographer, and the two of them traveled all over Israel, especially to the Dead Sea. They even went to Iceland for 10 days of photography. Yam is an actor and participated in plays staged by the Beer Sheva Theater. Haggi came to every performance, never missing a show. He also came to every soccer game in which Bar and Gev played, cheering them on and supporting them. He said that Ileel was the gift that the family received after four boys. He adored her. The family loved traveling together and going on picnics. They went on a two-and-a-half-month trip to Thailand and India. Adi was the planner. All the rest was Haggi’s domain. Spontaneous and flowing, he befriended the locals and led the family on their adventures. Haggi was special - very creative. He was always the first to volunteer and fulfill any request. He’d bring home junk and turn it into art. His creative style and his aesthetics as gardener and event designer were evident and left his imprint of endless generosity. Their house, at the edge of the Kerem neighborhood, was open to friends, neighbors, pre-army volunteers, soldiers – everyone felt free to come, enjoy each other’s company over chilled watermelon, a stack of waffles, or a barbeque. He’d pamper you whenever he could. He was known as “Haggi will do it.” Whatever the occasion, be it funeral, wedding, holidays, Haggi did it. He was essential to any and all productions, always having that magic touch that smoothed out the rough edges. He was never in the limelight, always behind the scenes, efficient and modest. On his fiftieth birthday, Haggi was in Iceland with Reef, capturing the northern lights. This meant that the party was postponed until he got back. On Friday, October 6, the whole family got together to celebrate. The sirens wailed the next morning. The shooting began. Haggi, shoes in hand, ran outside, calling back to Adi to lock the door. He was part of the preparedness unit and never thought twice – he went to fight for his home. Wounded, he managed to call Adi and say goodbye. Haggi defended the land he loved, bravely sacrificing himself. May his memory be a blessing. Back 26.09.1973 - 07.10.2023 50 years old

Vivian Silver Life Story Vivian was born in the middle of nowhere, or so she referred to Winnipeg, Canada. Minus 40 degrees in the winter, plus 40 degrees in summer. Her grandparents came from Eastern Europe; her parents Meir and Rosalyn were both born in Canada. Their children, Vivian, Neil and Rachel, were all born in Canada. The family was a typical Jewish one, with the usual pressures, but Vivian herself was an unusual child. She was apparently a good girl and an outstanding student in school, and she also played piano. She enjoyed being in the limelight – Vivian belonged to a drama club. Her mother signed her up for a screen test and after she passed it, Vivian became a child actress for 8 years. During this time, she appeared on the stage in musicals and also appeared in TV dramas and commercials. As an adolescent, she belonged to the B’nai B’rith movement, and in twelfth grade she became president of the B’nai B’rith in her city. By this time, her pleasant but uncompromising personality was clear to all. Vivian began studying literature and psychology at university, and received a grant to spend a year studying at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. It was only when she returned to Canada that she realized her affinity to Judaism had moved from religion to Zionism. She remained active in Jewish Zionist movements until the end of her studies and fought anti-Israel propaganda. Through this, she met other young people from the New York branch of the Habonim movement, who were forming a group to make Aliyah to a kibbutz in Israel. In 1972, Vivian moved to New York and joined the commune. This was an extremely meaningful time for her: Vivian was very active in Habonim, in founding the feminist Jewish movement and also preparing the group for their move to Kibbutz Gezer. Vivian married Marty, a member of the group, in New York. Together they made Aliyah to Israel in 1974. Marty returned, Vivian remained a member of the kibbutz for 16 years. Naturally, she was an active and involved member, the first woman in a number of roles traditionally given to men, such as kibbutz secretary and construction coordinator. It is no surprise that in 1981, she founded the department for the advancement of gender equality in the kibbutz movement. This was no easy struggle. Vivian edited a pamphlet of articles on the subject and then distributed it throughout the kibbutz movement in order to heighten awareness about this painful and hitherto unspoken topic. During this period of time, Vivian met Lewis Zeigen, a member of Kibbutz Gesher HaZiv. Lewis joined Vivian at Kibbutz Gezer and they had two children, Chen and Yonatan. In 1990, the family moved to Kibbutz Be'eri. Vivian and Lewis once again had to find their own place there. Lewis worked in the dairy and later joined the printing business. Vivian was responsible for construction and then she received an offer she could not refuse: to become executive director of the Negev Institute. This was the beginning of an exciting and new career that lasted 15 years, perfectly suited to Vivian. It was so well aligned to her belief that social change was possible in areas close to her heart: feminism, peace, coexistence with Palestinians outside of Israel, and with Arabs and Bedouin within it. The work she carried out for both the Negev Institute and for AJEEC was a mission for her: the creation of a social fabric of integration and cooperation, developed out of actual onsite activities, taking small, methodical and precise steps. Vivian was also a dedicated member of the kibbutz: a member of the secretarial committee, and active on other committees. Together with other kibbutz members she founded Tzemach, a team dedicated to the kibbutz’s social involvement. She also drove Palestinians to hospitals in Israel as part of the Road to Recovery organization. She was one of the founding members of Women Wage Peace, a member of the board of B’Tselem, and an active member of an array of other peace initiatives: Other Voice, Hamigdalor, and several others. She referred to herself as a conditional Zionist: She supported the existence of a national homeland for the Jewish people as long as it enabled the realization of national identity and a secure and respectful life for the Palestinian nation. Aside from all their public activities, Vivian and Lewis maintained a special relationship. Louie was a homebody, whereas Vivian was a woman of the world and they both loved and respected their different ways of life. They also had different notions of parenting. Vivian accepted with love Louie’s two elder children, Josh and Dina, and she treated all the children – big and small – as adults in the making. As in all aspects of her life, in her role as mother, Vivian tried to learn from every challenging situation, and to make the most of it. The family grew and grandchildren were born. Vivian declared herself “a very proud grandmother”. She made elaborate birthday cakes, gave the grandchildren a subscription to the Philharmonic, and went to visit the grandchildren, wherever they were. Through the years she maintained close contact with her family, and her journeys to Canada and the US were a substantial part of the family’s life. Throughout her life, Vivian managed to forge brave social bonds. On the kibbutz, within the movement, at AJEEC, in Rahat and Gaza, in all these places she found soulmates, and she sowed cooperation and hope everywhere. Even in the safe room, that Shabbat, she kept in touch with all her friends, and she had many. It appears she knew what was happening around her, because she wrote to her children: “We may be witnessing a massacre. Without being funny, I’m telling you how much I love you all, and how blessed I am to have you.” Vivian lived with the belief and hope that one day there would be peace because she felt it was impossible to keep living like this. She devoted her life to founding organizations that promoted the agenda she had dedicated herself to when she was 19: feminism, peace, the sisterhood of nations. She was murdered in a ghastly outburst of hatred, cruelty and destruction. She was 74. May her memory be blessed. Back 2.2.1949 - 07.10.2023 74 years old

Amir Weiss Life Story Matti and Amir. Amir and Matti. Both were born in February 1954. Matti was born in Holon to Zizi and Marco Altras who came to Israel from Morocco. Amir was born in kibbutz Hefziba, the son of Mira and Avri Weiss. Matti lived with her family in a one-room apartment in a neighborhood built for new immigrants. She was 16 when her brother Avi was born, and the family moved to Eilat. She served as an operations sergeant in Sharm-a-Shiekh and spent the Yom Kippur War in a bunker in the mountains over the town. After the war she and her army friends traveled around the Sinai mountains. After the army, she worked as a ground hostess at Eilat airport, where she met Amir. Amir was Mira and Avri’s second child. Their families had come to Israel from Romania and Hungary. Their firstborn son died in infancy. Amir and his younger brother, Raviv, lost their mother to cancer. Avri remarried when Amir was 12, and the family moved to Holon, where Asnat and Ilan, his two half-siblings, were born. Amir loved kibbutz life and the views of Mount Gilboa. When he was in school on the kibbutz he learned to play the cello. He went to the Thelma Yellin High School of Art and Music where he played cello and double bass. He served as an officer in the quartermaster corps, and following his discharge from the military, as a security guard for Arkia Airlines in Eilat. That is where he met Matti, who eventually proposed to him. Amir refused, and a week later, on the beach, proposed to her. Their wedding was a modest one, in the Holon rabbinate building. They became inseparable. They settled in Eilat, where their twins, Ran and Michal were born. They next moved to kibbutz Ramat Rachel, birthplace of their son Yuval. Three years later, they looked for a different kibbutz, and were offered a small, temporary apartment in Be’eri. They moved there, waiting for the larger apartment to be built. They settled in Be’eri in 1985, and their son Oren was born there. Matti’s childhood dream was to be a teacher. The games she loved playing with her friends were that she was the teacher and they – her pupils. She made her dream come true. She received her B.Ed., and then got her M.A. in educational-systems management. She began as a teacher in Be’eri, and later established and ran a private school, Nofim, on the kibbutz. Nofim espoused the values of farming and agriculture. Matti was one of the first to work outside of Be’eri. She worked for the Branco Weiss Education System, developing pedagogical content and managing educational programs all around the country. She then moved to the Rashi Foundation and became part of the Katzir Foundation, which provides scholarships for students. She then continued to guidance, personal counseling, and coaching for school principals. She continued energetically after her retirement, working for the community-art program at Sapir College. There, too, she did an outstanding job. Matti was a natural leader. Wherever life took her she was an enterprising trailblazer, a significant figure who, with great ability, managed people and teams. Amir, who from a young age loved wide open spaces and nature, found his destiny in agriculture, especially field crops, which he managed for many years. His children say that “Our best childhood memories are being with Abba on the tractor, working in the peanut and cotton plantation and the carrot fields.” He expressed his musical talent by singing in all kibbutz ceremonies, most notably Omer, Omer which he sang every year on the day of the first harvest, one day before the Passover seder, when the farmers harvested the first stalks of grain. When he left the field crops, Amir went to Rupin College to study business administration. He then joined the Be’eri printing plant, where, for many years, he was manager of the warehouse and the logistics center. He continued working there and volunteering, even after his retirement. Matti and Amir got to share a great love. Despite their differences – he was quiet and introverted; she was active and energetic – they complemented each other and did everything together. They both loved Israeli songs, and Amir also loved classical music. They both loved being close to nature, the landscapes, the vastness of the Negev. Their children’s clearest memory is the “anemone picnic.” Every February, when they celebrated their birthdays, they’d go out with their children and grandchildren to the wildflower fields around the kibbutz and enjoy a family picnic. Their daughter Michal said, “It was more important to them than anything else.” Nothing was dearer to them than family. “They were involved, protective parents,” their children said. “They were always there for us, and we always knew we could count on them. We could call them from any place in the country, any time, and Abba would come to pick us up from a dark road or a faraway army base. Our parents’ life objective was to have a strong, united family. It was they who brought us all back to live in Be’eri.” Amir and Matti had ten grandchildren. They were devoted grandparents, happy to care for the grandchildren, who felt that their grandparents’ house was their second home. They devoted their time and energy to the grandchildren and had a close and special relationship with each one. After they retired a few years ago, they traveled the world. These were their best years. They devoured life – they wanted to see everything. They planned to travel, to see, to experience. They had many dreams, all of which were brutally severed. When the attack on Be’eri began on October 7, 2023, Matti and Amir locked themselves at home, as did all residents of Be’eri. They were injured and knew they would not make it. Their last words were words of great love to their children and grandchildren. “They went together,” their children say, “and if we can find comfort in anything, it is that they will not have to live without each other. They were the best of friends and they loved each other. Ima always said, ‘I don’t know what I’ll do without him.’” Amir and Matti. Matti and Amir. Loving and caring in life, they remained together in death. May their memory be a blessing. Back 08.02.1954 - 07.10.2023 69 years old

Avshal Haran Life Story Avshalom Haran, whom everyone called Avshal, was born on June 15, 1957, in the Borochov neighborhood of Givatayim. He was the first child of Ruth and Chaim Hertzman. His parents named him as a combination of the names of Ruth's father, Ze'ev, and Chaim's brother, Shlomo. When he was one year old, the family moved south to the settlement of Tidhar, and two years later, they relocated to Be'er Sheva. From there, they moved to the young community of Omer, and Avshal, already a teenager, continued his studies at the "Makif High School Dalet" in Be'er Sheva. Ruth recounts that in his childhood, he was very playful. Until ninth grade, he still made an effort to study, but in high school, he realized that he preferred to spend most of his time with friends and going on adventures. The teachers, on their part, complained to his parents that "the boy was not fulfilling his potential". Regardless, during that period, he gathered together a close circle of friends who maintained contact over the years and were nicknamed "the Be'er Sheva group." He began his military service in the Nahal brigade, in Garin Horshim, and after continued in the Armored Corps. After his discharge, he pursued studies in agricultural economics at the Faculty of Agriculture in Rehovot, where he met Shoshan HaBaron, a member of Kibbutz Be'eri. Few believed that the relationship between the diligent, hard-working student and Avshal, who was the complete opposite, would last, but they were sorely mistaken. After their studies, the couple went on a year-long trip to the Far East and the United States. During one of their treks on a volcano in the Philippines, sporting his fashionable mustache of those days, he proposed to her. The wedding took place in the winter of 1984 when the two had already established their home in Be'eri. Initially, Avshal worked in field, but it quickly became clear to him and his managers that he would be more beneficial in the marketing department of the printing house. Indeed, he left the potatoes behind and advanced rapidly in the new department until he was appointed Vice President of Marketing. Concurrently with his work, he studied for a master's degree at Tel Aviv University, completing it in 1996. After his tenure at the printing house, he was elected as "m'rakez meshek" (economic coordinator) of Be'eri, and later as the CEO of Mishkei Na'Kibbutzim (the Kibbutz Holdings Group). In this role, he pushed for the completion of "Dalia Energy" - Israel's largest private power station, promoted the activities of the "To'am" shipping company and "Agricultural Insurance," and was one of the initiators and founders of "Kibbutz Energy," which is a major economic asset of the kibbutz movement. In 2016, he decided to retire from managing Mishkei HKibbutzim, explaining that Be'eri needed him more and returned to the kibbutz to be the economic chairman. Later, he returned to Masar, the postal distribution company where he had been the first CEO, this time as chairman. In 2022, he was also appointed as chairman of Bar Distribution, when Be'eri became a partner in it. Avshal and Shoshan had three children: Adi (1985), Yuval (1986), and Shaked (1989). In 1997, when they were still young, they went with their parents to New Jersey where they stayed for two years for Shoshan's postdoctoral studies. At that time, Avshal worked as the accountant for the Ministry of Tourism at the Israeli Consulate in New York, ensuring the supply of Bamba and Bisli for the kids who missed snacks from Israel. He – the kibbutznik with urban roots, a hummus lover who also appreciated sushi – enjoyed the time-out in the big city. He explored the city on foot and led family trips across the United States. His love for travel manifested at every opportunity. Whether it was trips to exotic destinations abroad or within the country. For instance, he organized a spontaneous trip from Be'eri to a dark hill near Kibbutz Tze'elim to get the best view of a meteor shower. The stars might have been a bit disappointing and few in falling, but everyone who was there was left with a memorable experience. His love for music, especially jazz, was also contagious. Every year, he would ask who wanted to join him at the Red Sea Jazz Festival in Eilat, and in between, he invited friends to join him at concerts. The beer and good mood were his treat, just like the hot tea he pulled out from the car during the meteor night. In family gatherings, he atypically exempted himself from running the operation. He would find a corner on the side and observe from behind his sunglasses, as though mocking the event, though he was fully engaged. On the morning of October 7, 2023, alarms sounded in Be'eri. Avshal ran to the second floor of his house to help Adi and her husband Tal bring the children to the safe room. For a long time, he refused to enter the shelter and stood outside the door with a knife in his hand, determined to protect his loved ones even at the cost of his life. On that dark Saturday, Hamas terrorists kidnapped Shoshan, Adi, Tal, and their children, as well as Avshal's sister Sharon and her daughter Noam. Avshal himself was murdered. He left behind five grandchildren – Naveh, Yahel, Nahar Shalom, Sinai Moshe, and Ora Bara Rina. His love for them and his children knew no bounds. He always cared for them – to the point of anxiousness, some might say – and was always ready to do anything for them - and for other family members. If something was missing – Avshal would bring it. If a ride was needed – Avshal would drive. If someone was stuck – Avshal would rescue. And all this with nonchalance, as if it were the most important thing. The board meetings and balances could wait. During long drives from Be'eri to work and back, with one leg raised beside the steering wheel, he passed the time with phone calls laced with sharp humor. When he arrived home in the evening, he would quickly head to his usual spot on the couch in the living room, watching a quality movie with Shoshan or switching channels to Hapoel Be'er Sheva. On weekends, after a challenging bike ride in the field, he would man the grill outside or mix the pots in the kitchen. The calories can be dealt with tomorrow - the main thing was that everyone enjoyed the moment. This is how we will remember him. A people person. With captivating charisma. With endless generosity. With unconditional love. Back 15.06.1957 - 07.10.2023 66 years old

Arik Kraunik Life Story Arik. Ariko. Riko. Johnson. Born on August the 2nd, 1969, and died at the age of 54. He was the youngest son of Yochanan and Regina and brother of Racheli and Meir. Father of Chen, Tamar, Hagar, and Noa. Husband of Sigal. Jewish. Israeli. He was born in Kibbutz Be’eri. A person. Arik - a colorful and lively man. He brought energy and left a mark wherever he went. His loud voice was an expression of his heart and his endless generosity, and an attempt to reach as many people as possible, to unite as many people as possible. Arik’s smile, his main characteristic, was also like a loud voice covering long distances; “Everything can be done with a smile”, he would say, “everything can be done with love”. Arik. He wouldn’t sleep at his parents’ because communal sleeping was a social experience he loved. Indeed, what at the beginning was insistence on shared accommodation, turned into sharing as a core value during adulthood. He was an outstanding athlete who could play in any ball game. From a very young age, basketball was his favorite sport, and he was considered one of the best players in Be’eri. He could score three-pointers in basketball, in any weather condition. With or without shoes. On parquet or on tiles. He fully and deeply knew how to win and how to lose in every game – from basketball to chess. Racheli. His closest family connection was with you. You were born 11 months apart. You behaved like twins. He was your complement. You didn’t need words to understand each other’s needs. Your life paths ran parallel: you focused on education while Arik worked with youth; while you were Rosh Tzachi (head of local emergency squad), he was Lieutenant Colonel. You even took a basketball coaching assistant course together. You even shared chickenpox. Inseparable. They were a close-knit family, sharing endless childhood experiences together with Meir, his mother’s son from her previous marriage. Arik knew how to embrace him, just as his father Yochanan did, and thus, from one generation to the next, from father to son and daughter, Racheli and Arik grew up with giving as a core value. Arik. Already at the age of 16, started working in the Southern Command Preparatory Course (in agriculture and in the orchards), and by the age of 18, he was already managing the orchards. He opted for combat service, foregoing a year of civilian service, despite being an excellent athlete: he chose to enlist in the paratroopers. After the army and the “Great Post-Army Trip”, Arik returned to the kibbutz and found his calling in working with youth. He transformed the youth sector in the kibbutz. Arik was like a magnet to youth. They adored him. He truly understood them and would spend late-night hours chatting with them. Arik pushed boys and girls to utilize all their abilities. During the kibbutz’s rope bridge ceremonies, he would climb up with them, train with them, and always say: “Those who don’t succeed are those who don’t want to”. At one of the ceremonies, one of the girls broke a leg: he lifted her onto the rope bridge and helped her participate in the ceremony. Afterwards, Arik became the cultural coordinator of the kibbutz. He always succeeded in captivating everyone and expanding their horizons in his wake. Sigal, in 2000, you entered an online chat where you met your husband and the father of your children. Just like that. You joined a shared chat room and began messaging each other: Arik asked you where you saw yourself in ten years, and when you answered, “married with six kids”, he immediately asked you to call him. At first, you didn’t agree to give him your phone number, but you arranged a meeting at Ramat Gan National Park. Two hours before the date, you called him and said you weren’t going, and he said “Are you serious? I’m already here!”. It was your mother who convinced you to go. Arik told you about the youth and about what he was doing, and that convinced you. You told him you came from a religious home and his kibbutz was secular, and you didn’t know whether it could work, but a month later it was you who proposed to him, or as Arik used to say, “you didn’t ask me, you informed me”. Arik. Attentive partner. A relationship built on togetherness but also on individuality. Always supported his wife. He would never call Sigal by nicknames like “baby”, but he would send her messages like “My dear and beloved wife, thank you for being you and for what you do for the family”. Who needs nicknames with this kind of message? In 2001, their first son, Chen, was born. Arik, who was very close to his father, had always wished to name his son after his father, and so it was. “Chen”, named after Yohanan. Chen and Arik, Arik and Chen. Basketball games until dusk. Hours of driving, hours of training and games. Analyzing moves: both in the basketball court and in life situations. A year later, in 2002, Tamar was born. When she was born, Arik told Sigal he could now relax because he had his girls taking care of him. She was jumping around and was a shining star to her father’s proud eyes, and just a few weeks ago, she finished officer training, and everyone stood up and applauded. Arik dreamed of this moment, to call her "the commander" and salute the new officer of the Border Police. In 2005, Hagar was born. The wise girl of the house, that’s how he called her. His partner for Hapoel Be’er Sheva’s games and for watching basketball games together. When she went together to Chen’s games, she would analyze each move. She would call Arik when she watched the games separately to talk about the moves. Arik and Hagar, father and daughter; she learnt how to be a coach from the best. Noa, the little sister, was born in 2009. A great volleyball player to a proud father. In the past two years, he spent a lot of time with her, often driving her to school trips. Everyone remembers her dad: the funny one who played around with the kids. Arik. Father to four. Father and coach all in one. Always achieving accomplishments with a smile. Arik. A joyful man who loved music nights. He loved the old songs of Israel, like Arik Einstein’s. He knew all the lyrics by heart. Over time, thanks to Sigal, he also came to appreciate The Revivo Project. On his 50th birthday, he organized a large and enjoyable public singing event, true to his habit of not taking himself too seriously. In March 2019, Arik took on the role of Rosh Tzachi. Racheli, who was then the head of Tzachi, knew that Arik was the most suitable person for the position. He elevated the level of security for the community and ensured that elite units would come to train in Be’eri. He was Rosh Tzachi in the elite school in Be’eri. In April 2022, Arik was recognized for his dedication by the commander of the Gaza Brigade. Members of Be’eri, as well as the temporary residents and soldiers who arrived at the kibbutz, knew that Arik took care of them consistently. Temporary residents recall how Arik welcomed them into the community, opened his home to them, and hosted meals together with Sigal, always with a smile. He treated soldiers as if they were his own children. Free access to the pool, plenty of food, they knew they could reach out, and he would take care of everything they needed. Arik, on Shabbat morning, you took your gun and the M16, and then you left. Before that, you looked at Sigal and said goodbye to her. It wasn’t like you to linger for a moment before the door. Arik. Ariko. Riko. Johnson. Dead at 54. Youngest son of Yochanan and Regina. Brother of Racheli and Meir. Father of Chen, Tamar, Hagar, and Noa. Husband of Sigal. Jewish. Israeli. Born in Kibbutz Be’eri and will remain in Kibbutz Be’eri forever. In Kibbutz Be’eri. The first to take the lead, the first to fall. A person. A family of five souls, a basketball team left without its coach. He was a man, and he is no more. May his memory be blessed. Back 02.08.1969 - 07.10.2023 54 years old

Igor Losev Life Story Igor was born in 1964 on the banks of the Dnieper River, in the city of Zaporizhzhia – part of the former Soviet Union, now Ukraine. He was the son of Victor and Antonina and younger brother to Tatiana. He severed ties with his father at a young age. His mother worked as a department manager in a large factory while raising both children strictly but responsibly. Igor described a stable and secure childhood in a city in which doors remained unlocked and where one could wander until late at night. With his love for science, Igor completed high school with good grades but missed the enrollment deadline for university. Consequently, he was conscripted into the Soviet Navy and served for three years in the Baltic Fleet, far from home. During that entire period, he only saw his mother twice, and all communication was through letters and telegrams. Afterwards, he continued his studies for a bachelor's and master's degree in metallurgical engineering. One day, after his release from the Soviet Navy but still in love with the sea and boats, Igor was paddling in a kayak on the river, when from afar, in a resort village, he saw a young woman in a red swimsuit, a bright spot on the horizon. He paddled towards her and asked, "Can you show me the way to the dining room?" Thus began the encounter with the woman who would one day become his wife, Marina. Marina was also born in Zaporizhzhia. Two years older than Igor, she too was raised by a single mother, Ludmila, who worked to support her children as a manufacturing engineer in an aircraft engine factory. Alongside her second husband, Nikolai Nikitenko, Ludmila built a happy family, Nikolai adopting Marina as his daughter and supporting her in every way. The two also provided Marina with a brother – Michael. Marina attended a regular school and was a good child and an outstanding student. She loved history and literature and studied music and piano for seven years. Besides the regular Russian holidays, Ludmila and Nikolai's home observed both Ludmila's Jewish holidays and Nikolai's Christian ones. Marina would say that her childhood was simple and happy in a family of industrial workers with organized work, a splendid education system, and a sense of calm and security. At university, Marina studied history and participated in archaeological excavations at ancient sites. She worked in research at the university where she studied and taught history at the local high school. Marina and Igor married in April 1988 in a small civil ceremony. Their only daughter Katya was born in January 1989. In the early 1990s, they experienced the turbulent and unstable days of the dissolution of the Soviet Union. When they heard about the Jewish Agency’s "First Home in the Homeland" program, they felt a desire to come and live in a kibbutz, in a secular, egalitarian, cooperative, and socialist society – an ideology they continued to believe in, even after the collapse of the Soviet Union. In October 1994, Marina and Igor emigrated to Israel with their five-year-old daughter Katya, leaving their families behind. They landed by night and were taken directly to a caravan waiting for them in Be'eri. Together, Marina and Igor faced the separation from their homeland and the challenges of absorption in Israel and in the kibbutz. Besides studying Hebrew in the ulpan, they had to adapt to work on the collective farm. Marina worked for many years in the printing house, mainly in the greeting card department, and later moved to accounting management. She replaced Tzipi Zorea in managing the members' personal budgets. Marina loved her work and the team she worked with. She knew everyone: the old members and the newest immigrants. She also volunteered for ten years in a second-hand store with Racheli Suiss. Her leisure hours were dedicated to reading. She loved British detective novels – Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie – reading them all in Russian. Marina also loved nature. She nurtured plants in her new home and devoted herself to her household cats and many street cats. She established feeding stations and served as a clinic cum veterinarian for injured or sick cats. When they first arrived in the kibbutz, Igor worked at the dish-washing station in the dining room and then moved on to the printing house alongside Tzachi Gad. Later, he joined the digital department and other departments. In 2021, he was appointed as the safety supervisor in the print shop and maintained daily contact with all print shop departments regarding their personnel. In recent years, he developed a great curiosity, if not obsession, for exploring Russian digital archives that had been opened to the public. He researched his family's origins and compiled a large family tree with roots dating back to the early 19th century. Katya, their daughter, recalls: "Dad's computer was salvaged from the fire along with its entire archive of lives lived." In 2018, Marina and Igor moved to their new home in the Kerem neighborhood. It was a cozy and orderly home, filled with Russian books and Katya's childhood and teenage collections. Igor planted fruit trees – mangoes and citrus. He measured the fruit yield each year and meticulously monitored the data. Katya recalls: "Mom was a very devoted mother. Very caring, sometimes overly so. I could share personal things with her. At every stage of my life, she helped me, and I could rely on her. She was a friendly woman with a radiant face. No one escaped her discreet and devoted care. Everyone knew they could rely on her." Anyone who knew Marina and met her would agree with Katya. Marina was a woman with eyes that shone, who only wanted to empower and help. In every role she took on, she radiated grace, out of her desire to respect every person, and from her endless love and dedication to the community. "Dad was a refined and quiet man. He didn't like to be at the center of attention, but in the print shop, he made good friends throughout his years of work. He loved life on the kibbutz, yet he missed Russian culture. As a father, he was very sensitive and emotional, and it was easy to catch him with a tear in his eye." He and Katya loved to watch Russian-dubbed cartoons together and assemble furniture. He was the handy man who knew how to fix and install anything and immediately responded to any call for help from Katya. She recounts that her parents made sure to teach her to read and write in Russian. They did it gracefully and without pressure, arousing her interest in the language and gently exposing her, through music and stories, to the Russian classics. They instilled in her the value of education so that when the time came, she would have the independent choice to pursue what she loves and to fulfill herself. In 2021, their granddaughter Kira was born, the daughter of Katya and Dima. Kira became the center of their world, and Katya occasionally had to remind them that she also exists, so they wouldn't forget her… Ten days before the fateful Shabbat, they returned from a lovely vacation in St. Petersburg and brought Kira many Russian children's books that survived the fire. "It's a shame we didn't postpone this vacation until Sukkot," Katya said to herself many times since. On the 7th of October, Katya was in touch with her parents until 10:00 in the morning. Marina managed to whisper on the phone that the terrorists were in the house. Katya waited and hoped they had only been injured. Two days later, the realization fell upon her, receiving confirmation a week later, that her parents were no longer among the living. "We were a small family and now we're even smaller. Now the kibbutz is my family, and Dima's, and Kira's. Nobody will ever understand me anywhere else." Marina and Igor lived together for 35 years, almost 30 of which were in Be'eri. Their daughter Katya, her husband Dima, their granddaughter Kira, and the entire community of Be'eri, along with the kibbutz's cats and the mango and citrus trees, will continue to remember their love and their gentle touch. May their memory be blessed. Back 17.11.1964 - 07.10.2023 59 years old

Haim Zohar Life Story Haim Zohar was born in Teheran (Iran) on November 29, 1950 to Victoria and Shmuel, the third of seven children. When Haim was seven years old, the family immigrated to Israel. At first, they settled in Hatzor Haglilit, and after a short time they moved to Kfar Saba. Victoria worked as a cook in Meir Hospital, Shmuel for the municipality, and the whole family faced the hardships of absorption, language acquisition and, most of all, the quest for belonging, which was crucial in Haim’s life and a success due to his sociable character, sense of humor and kindheartedness. When he was fifteen years old, Haim came to Kibbutz Be’eri as Yeled Hutz (a child from a family not from the kibbutz), and here he found his home. The Aluma group, to which he belonged together with other boys and girls who came to the kibbutz without family, became his family. An everlasting bond was forged between the young people. Their lives were bound together and they shared a common language, formative experiences, and most of all the same thing Haim was looking for: belonging. The boys and girls learned and worked together, while they became acquainted with the different branches of the kibbutz, under the supervision of Weksler, their teacher. In the army, Haim served with the paratroopers. He fought in the War of Attrition and on the southern front in the Yom Kippur War. He didn’t talk much about his experiences in the war, and as soon as the war ended, he devoted himself to his work in the kibbutz. About his beginnings he told in the simple and casual way that characterized him, with a little smile: ‘One day I saw Motke Manor on a moped and I said to him: “Let me ride a bit.” Motke said: “Only on condition that you work as a plumber.” I have a weakness for mopeds, and so I ended up working as a plumber for two years before I moved to printing.’ He followed the growth of the printing house with pride, and saw how it became a source of comfort and economic security for the members of the kibbutz. During the time that the Israeli pound was replaced by the shekel the printing machines worked almost 24 hours a day, and Haim with them, around the clock. Haim held different positions, until he found his niche as the driver of the printing house. Every day he got up at five and drove to many places all over the country to deliver the goods. The baguette with pastrami that he ate between his rides made his day, he used to say. He stayed patient and friendly even under stress, and it was evident that he took pride in the printing house even when he answered angry customers, simply and straightforwardly: our printing house may sometimes make mistakes, but other printers make more. Sometimes, after he had finished his tasks, he collected his daughter Nitzan from the army base and on their way home they listened together to ‘Magic Moments’ on the radio and sang Elvis Presley and Paul Anka. On other occasions he visited his mother in Kfar Saba. When he was 31 years old, he attended a meeting for singles in the Argaman Hotel in Acre, where he met Erga, a member of Kibbutz Dalia. During this first meeting, Erga noticed that Haim was nice and relaxed, and she was impressed by the way he talked, by his pleasant attitude and his tenderness. She still remembers how he laughed and told stories, and how she noticed that people liked to be in his company. Their relationship started with talks on the telephone, and later on was deepened by meetings in person – when Haim, being the driver of the Kibbutz Movement, stopped by to visit her in Kibbutz Dalia, or she traveled by bus to visit him in Be’eri. When Haim asked for her hand, Erga accepted. After their honeymoon trip across the United States the young couple settled in Dalia in order to be close to Erga’s family, and there their first daughter Adi was born. For a while, the family moved back and forth between the two kibbutzim, but in the end they settled in Be’eri, where Nitzan and Dan were born. Haim, who longed for his comrades, for the way of life and most of all for the feeling of home in Be’eri, was happy that his children would grow up in this home, which he had earned through work and love. Although he had left his parental home at an early age, Haim had learned to cook the dishes of his mother and he prepared for Erga and the children salads of chopped vegetables, Persian rice and gondi. (As far as cleaning and tidying up after cooking he was far less proficient.) On Saturday evenings, when the dining room was closed, the family used to have dinner together around a table full of dishes that Haim had prepared. On other evenings Haim sat around the table with his friends Itzik, Udi, Meni, Jako and Calderon, reminiscing, telling each other stories that they had heard and told already dozens of times, and laughing over and over again. Over the years, the group of friends expanded, including the families that each of their children had started, and they spent their vacations together, in tents on the beach. Haim liked to watch the news while munching sunflower seeds, black ones, white ones, and actually anything one could munch. He loved crosswords, chess and Trivial Pursuit. One could rely on Haim. He always took care of kibbutz members who were having trouble and supported people who needed his help. He paid special attention to elderly people, whom he visited often. He listened to their stories and shared with them what was going on. The members describe him as a tender person in a big body, who lent an ear to others and inspired his surroundings with patience and gentle manners. Haim was a warm and embracing father, tender and generous, who supported and cared and made sure their children would lack nothing. In the mornings he always woke them up in peace and quiet, which also meant a little wink towards Erga, who was always in a hurry and was keen not to be late. So, he always went from Adi to Nitzan and from Nitzan to Dan, and woke them up by rubbing their feet, transferring through his hands his gentleness and calm. Haim waited impatiently to become a grandfather and managed to enjoy it, but only for a short time, mainly with his firstborn grandchild Yonatan, followed by Yuval, Daniel and Libi. In the past few years Haim suffered from dementia. Erga cared for him with love and dedication, together with the caregivers Sigi, Sugi and Fernando. Erga didn’t try to hide the malady and insisted on holding on to life as much as possible. Even when Haim could barely speak anymore, his eyes showed that he understood, was alert and remembered. Haim was murdered in the morning of October 7, in the kibbutz where he had found his home. In the same terrible morning his best friends Meni and Itzik were murdered as well. Sugi, who had cared for Haim the past few months, is still missing. Haim left behind his wife Erga; his children Adi, Nitzan and Dan; and his grandchildren Yonatan, Yuval, Daniel and Libi. He was 72 years old at his death. May his memory be blessed Back 29.11.1950 - 07.10.2023 72 years old

Noy Shosh Life Story Noy Shosh was born on December 12, 1986 to Miriam and Gabriel Shosh, joining brothers Ohr and Raz. The family lived in Katzrin, and enjoyed traveling in the Golan Heights and vacationing in Eilat and Sinai. Noy was an ardent nature lover. When he finished 8th grade, the family moved to Ness Ziona, where he studied for one year at Ben-Gurion School, followed by five years at the IDF Ordnance Corps Technological School. Noy earned his degree in Mechanical Engineering, specializing in Vehicle Engineering, while simultaneously working in a garage to both gain experience and knowledge and contribute to his family's income. Noy served in the Ordnance Corps Unit and later became an officer, advancing to the rank of Captain. Noy was passionate about his military service and served for many years in the IDF reserves. He met his future wife, Mahol, in 2008 during his military service. The two were a couple for six years until Mahol completed her studies and they decided to marry. Their wedding was held on Kibbutz Bror Hayil. Noy and Mahol chose to set down roots in Kibbutz Be'eri, where he quickly acclimated and found his place at work and in the kibbutz society. In the garage, Noy both worked and managed several positions, the last as garage manager. Noy had golden hands and a big heart, lending a quick, generous hand to all, with a smile. In 2018, their eldest daughter Noga was born, followed by Netzer, who celebrated his fourth birthday at a hotel on the Dead Sea. The third child is one-and-a-half-year-old Lavie. The family’s favorite pastime was taking trips in the jeep Noy had bought. He was a member of the Prado Driving Club where he took part in many excursions. Noy joined the Be'eri Pub staff and happily took his turn for shifts and events held at the pub. At the start of their journey, Mahol and Noy would often frequent restaurants and movies. As parents, they fully devoted themselves to raising their children. Noy maintained a strong relationship with his longtime circle of friends throughout the years. On the morning of Saturday, October 7, 2023, the family members were awakened by the clamor of shelling and shooting. At those very moments, Noy received an emergency order to report to his IDF unit. As the “Red Alert” sirens sounded, the entire family barricaded themselves in the bomb shelter. Terrorists infiltrated the house and tried to break into the shelter. With one hand, Noy held the door handle shut, as he gripped his loaded gun with the other hand. The terrorists’ gunfire penetrated the door, injuring Noy in his arm and leg. As Noy bled profusely, Mahol summoned the resourcefulness and presence of mind to tear a sheet and tie it as an artery-block to bandage his arm. At the same time, she tried to telephone for help. As Noy’s strength ebbed and he collapsed, Mahol grabbed his gun. When the sight of a gun barrel appeared in the door’s peephole, Mahol took the gun and shot towards it. There was silence from behind the door. The terrorists then set the house on fire, filling the bomb shelter with thick smoke. Mahol and the children parted from Noy with words of love. She then opened the window of the shelter to allow them to breathe fresh air. At last, soldiers arrived to evacuate Mahol and the children to a neighboring apartment. At the same time, Noy’s two brothers began searching for him in hospitals. When they could not find him, his oldest brother went to Be'eri. After deliberation and discussion with IDF personnel, Noy’s body was removed from the bomb shelter. Mahol and the children were evacuated from Be'eri. In Mahol’s words: “We had a long, happy relationship. We were a team connected to one another.” May his memory be blessed. Back 12.12.1986 - 07.10.2023 37 years old

Sami Keidar Life Story 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. Back 27.01.1953 - 07.10.2023 70 years old