📸 Photo

Drops fell steadily through the leaks in the roof onto the poncho and dripped down to the ground. Outside I could hear the raging storm. In a very short time the ground became muddy, then soggy. I lay drenched in my shelter, miserable, trembling with both cold and fear. There was nothing I could do but pray to God.

The storm grew worse, and my shelter began to blow away, leaving open spaces through which the water streamed down upon me. I wanted to cry, to wail. I wanted away from this horror.

Why, why, did this have to happen to me? Please, God, help me. I'm afraid of dying.

Each minute seemed an eternity, and I had nowhere to flee. It required fierce concentration to immerse myself in fantasy. This time I went home.

I am married and have small children. My brother, Moshe, and I start a ranch on huge tracts of land we have bought in the Upper Galilee. We stock it with cattle I bought in Bolivia and Argentina of a quality not to be found in Israel. Most of Israel's meat is imported from Argentina, but we have a good climate and unused open spaces for grazing. Why shouldn't we raise our own cattle?

My brother and I work hard. The ranch prospers. We erect a huge house and all live together: my brother, his wife Miri, his daughter Lilach, and his other children, and of course me and my wife and our children.