An exciting story with an insight into life:
‘I’m driving an old cab and I thought I’ve seen it all.
I noticed that the passenger was strangely dressed with a button-down shirt on top.
I stopped him, he got into a taxi and without saying a word even Shalom output ‘Drive to Dizengoff 102’.
I start, and a conversation develops. The man talks about himself, his successes and the factories and investments he has.
After a few minutes of driving he asks me if it is possible to smoke in a taxi. I have a smoking cab so I asked him not to.
After a moment I see him pulling out a cigarette and before I have time to respond, I see in the mirror his shirt sleeve rising and a number imprinted on his bare arm, one that drowned on the arms of the Jews in the extermination camps.
At a glance I ‘photographed’ the number and my breath caught! I immediately pressed the brake pedal and stopped at the side of the road.
I turned around and asked excitedly: ‘Are you a Holocaust survivor?’
Surprised by the stop and my wish, he replied: ‘Why do you never meet a Holocaust survivor? Please keep going.’
I did not give up on him and asked him in every language of request to tell me a little about him and his family in the Holocaust.
After a slight hesitation he agreed to tell a little about his experiences; Is that his parents were murdered in the extermination camps and his only brother is missing. He searched for him for years but his traces disappeared and he too did not survive.
This one I completely lost my soul and the reason is related to my childhood days:
I was a boy who grew up on a kibbutz. One day, when I was about 16, I was walking around bored at noon and saw the Hank crusher whose job it was to cut wood parts and turn them into sawdust.
The machine made a noise and I wanted to see it work. I approached and bent down to look inside. I must have bent too much, for I suddenly found myself on the verge of death, barely grasping the end of the machine so as not to fall into the revolving metal knives.
Then, as I scream and scream in panic and full of anxiety, I see her being grounded to me, holding and pulling me out of the machine.
I immediately realized that this was Zalman’s hand from the kibbutz.
Zalman was a Holocaust survivor who had little contact with his surroundings, but everyone knew him because of the number that was imprinted on his arm.
Panting and shocked by the tragic event I thanked Zalman for saving my life. He looked at me to walk, shook his head and not another word would continue.
This number, which I saw on Zalman’s arm, is etched in my memory forever. Since then I have been able to recite it from sleep. It was a life-saving number.
So you can understand the astonishment that gripped me in the taxi with my elderly passenger, the number on his arm was that of Zalman! Only the last book is different!
I was afraid to share it, maybe I’m wrong ?? How can I live with myself if I let him down? I looked at him and asked permission to take
The same for a short journey of about two hours:
‘I know it’s really weird, but believe me it’s something good, I told him.
Something in my eyes probably convinced him and he nodded his head in agreement.
I immediately pressed the pedal in a hurry and excitedly towards the kibbutz.
After about 50 minutes we arrived. I got out of the taxi near the house where Zalman lived years ago, with the confused passenger still inside. I knocked excitedly and hard on the door, doubting if Zalman was still alive.
After a minute or two that seemed to me like an eternity, the door opened and unbelievable; Zalman, alive and well, is on the doorstep!
He stood there with his stern look and I pounced on him with a fierce hug reserved for beloved family members … Elder Zalman remained indifferent and did not seem to remember me at all.
And so, while holding Zalman in the doorway of the apartment, the elderly passenger got down and stood in front of Zalman. Despite all the years that have passed and despite growing up and aging, there is a lot of similarity between the two.
Zalman as hypnotized reached out and revealed the number on his arm, the elderly passenger did the same. After a second that seemed like an eternity they hugged tightly and both cried! The brothers reunited after many years again!
At that moment I was given the intention of my life … Zalman is me that day so that one day, after so many years, I will return his brother to his arms. ”
