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In 1962 I went to Israel. The reason that I went to Israel really was my father. My father was Zionist just like my grandfather. My grandfather had a photo of Hertzel hanging on the wall and that was all his Zionism. My father’s plan was to go to Palestine, now called Israel. My mother would not go, she was not Jewish. Unfortunately my father has never had a chance to go to Israel, because he was murdered in Auschwitz. I was not so much a Zionist, but wanted to know what my father had hoped to find in Israel. Actually I wanted to make his dream a reality. After collecting information I ended up in Kibbutz Hazorea. As a volunteer you had to work for half of the day and the other half you learned Hebrew in the oelpan. So I started my life in the kibbutz as oelpanikkiet.
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