I came from the hut…from Tira. I was in southern Tira. I came…we bought the hut. I came (and) I saw…I had neighbours…neighbours…Muslims. There was Umm Hussein, her husband…and her name was Hejar. I stayed there…for more than fifteen years we were neighbours. My family went to Haifa and bought a house. And my husband wasn’t working. Yossi was little. One month old. I left him with her. I said to her, “Um Hussein, take care of him. I’m going to work. Housework.” For three hours and I’ll come back home. But take care of him.” “Go, my daughter. I’ll take care of your children.” There was Meir, and Mazal, and little Yossi. I would leave him at her place. I love her more than my mother. One day, a thirteen year old boy from my father’s family died. And we all had to go there. An army car ran him over. So I took my youngest son in my arms and said to Um Hussein, “please look after Meir and Mazal.” At night, when a car came, when they buried him, we came. It was nighttime. They put Mazal to sleep with the girls, and they put Meir to sleep with the boys. Mazal didn’t agree to sleep. She went outside and started crying in the street. A police officer came and said to her, “what’s wrong, Mazal? Why are you crying?”. She said to the police officer, “my mother left me with the Muslims and I don’t want to sleep with them there. So the police officer brought my daughter. We had just then came (home). I went in (to the house) and was putting Yossi to sleep in the bed. He said to me, “where’s your son?”. I said to him, “at the neighbour’s house.” He went and knocked on their door. He had a little shack. Four metres by four metres. There were ten people sleeping. They were sleeping on the floor. He said to her, “where is the Jewish woman’s daughter?”. The husband got up, looking…they didn’t have light. (He was) searching…and said to her […] the Jewish woman’s daughter. The neighbour. I got up. I just wanted to put Yossi…to put Yossi in the bed. I was screaming, “Umm Hussein! Don’t worry! Mazal is with me!”. She said to me, “On G-d, if you hadn’t come now…I would have miscarried!”. Yes. I used to believe in her. Every day, in the morning, they would do agriculture. She would bring me a box (with) whatever they would sow. When they picked (the crops), only for the neighbours. And my children were at her place all day…until I came (home) from work they would go (there). She would cook, and she would give them (food). One day a Jewish man came. He had a friend. He brought him to the hut, to the kitchen. One day, Meir came with his friend. They fought. He (the friend) took out a knife and stabbed it into Meir’s leg. Where did they go? To Umm Hussein. Umm Hussein was pregnant. It was twelve o’clock (and) they had come from school. Umm Hussein went…she picked up Meir. He was eight, nine years old. She knocked on the door of the nurses at the health clinic kiosk near our house. She said to them, “I’m begging you, open the door! The boy is bleeding!” They stayed…(and) closed it (the wound). It’s not my son! After that, they came and closed (the wound on) his leg. (I swear) on my life, G-d, Umm Hussein helped me more than my family. I love her. I worry about her even now, believe me.