Cohen, Kivan (Isaac)

Son of Rachel and Jacob. He was born on Yom Kippur, 10 Tishrei 5763 (27.9.1982) in Iran, to his mother Rachel, a nurse in the Jewish hospital in Tehran and to his father Jacob, an aircraft technician in the Israeli military service. The delegates attacked his mother at midnight but she asked to see the Torah scroll in the hall before she gave birth to her baby on the holy day, overcame her pain, went to the synagogue, and only from there was rushed to the hospital where she gave birth to Kivan. The day of birth and her circumstances became a designer symbol in Kivan’s short but full life. He spent his childhood in Tehran, the capital city of the Khomeini regime, which compared the Koran to its fundamentalist interpretation of the country’s population and imposed itself on the way of life and the thoughts of the citizens of the country, which was in a long and exhausting war in Iraq. The city was bombed almost every night. There were no shelters. Kivan’s modest family fled with the sirens to the open street of Tehran and Lena under the open sky. The shortages that always followed the war affected everything, food and fuel were sold for coupons only. The plight of the Jews was greater than the plight of the Iranians. The Iranians did regard them as subjects of inferior religion, but surrounded them with rings of rings of suspicions of dual loyalties: one, the regime, ostensibly and the other, deep, deep-hearted, the State of Israel and the Jewish people. The decision to make the impossible and make aliyah was rewarded in the heart of the family’s mother, Rachel, when she suddenly felt that Kivan’s older brother, Eran, who had studied in the Jewish school under the strict ideological and theological supervision of the ayatollahs, His family. It was clear to his mother that her children could not be protected against brainwashing in Tehran and she was fighting for her right to leave the country for a short vacation. After months of efforts, the mother of the family was allowed to leave, provided her husband and children remained in Iran. Her pleas and tears did not help. Dressed in a chowder, as the Muslims demanded, Rachel came to the ayatollah who was in charge of Jewish affairs and tried desperately to divert her heart through religious and interfaith logic. “God,” she said to him, “did not take neither Isaac nor Ishmael, even though our common ancestor Abraham was willing to sacrifice them, on the altar and in the desert sands, and you will take the sons of one unhappy mother?” The Ayatollah, amazed by her argument and the mothers Rachel radiated, retreated. “The authority is given,” he said. Then came the fierce opposition of the immediate family, which had to remain in Iran. Rachel’s parents knew, of course, that this was not a passing holiday but a complete separation from them and her country of origin and immigration to Palestine, so far from Tehran. Rachel’s parents objected. “You are taking them to a land of endless wars, you are endangering the lives of your sons, who today are still children, but in an instant they will grow up and become soldiers.” “Until they grow up there will be peace in Israel,” Rachel answered and separated from her parents without seeing them again. When she told them fifteen years later about Kivan’s fall in a telephone conversation via the Internet, they remained silent and said: “We told you …!” Father Ya’akov, who remained in Tehran as a guarantee for the return of his wife and children, managed to bribe him at the price of all his meager possessions, an official in the Ministry of the Interior, pretended to be a Muslim, took a passport for himself and joined a mother who came to Israel via Turkey. A new immigrant and a mother of a single-parent family in Israel. The family lived in Petach Tikvah, and the five-and-a-half-year-old Kivun was absorbed in his new life in Israel faster than he could have expected. He was released from the traumas of his childhood in Iran and became a happy child. Within a few weeks he would chat only in Hebrew, and later we would spoil his Iranian languageAnd forgotten. The family lives very sparingly. The parents worked at odd jobs until the father of the family, after retraining and years of lack of tenure, was hired by Electra as a refrigeration technician. Kiven, in his graceful look, his smiling face and his free and restrained manner, was aware of the distress but never gave expression to his feelings. He made do with a little bit of awareness and demanded nothing from his parents. At the Gordon Elementary School where he studied, many of the children came from distressed families. Sometimes he would give them the sandwich his mother had prepared for him, and if her teacher had not told her, the mother would not have known about it. His scholastic achievements were good. He grew up and became a very sociable lad who radiated joy over his surroundings. During all his vacations, Kivan would work and fill in the gaps on his own. For his driving lessons, he paid for his few savings, and was proud of the restrained modesty that characterized him. After graduating from Amal Gimmel High School, Kivan was accepted to study engineering in the framework of the reserve, which involved postponing recruitment. Kivan did not take it. The best young men enlisted to fight the terror that spread in Israel at the outbreak of the intifada, and Kivan felt that his place was with them. His eldest brother, Eran, served in the first lines of fire in Lebanon at the time, and was often saved by a miracle – one of the many activities he took part in as a regular soldier was in the jeep that was hit. Kivan replied that he would not be able to influence his son to complete his studies before enlisting and therefore urged him to turn to a technical position. “What the state needs today is not technicians, researchers or professors,” he argued passionately and with conviction, “she needs to Warm. “Kevin was drafted in the summer of 2001, and the disappointment he discovered that he was assigned as a technician. Kivan, who had never converted his parents and teachers, turned his commanders this time, got off the bus that took him to his place of detention and was not satisfied until he had accepted him in a combat unit. Kivan was popular with his friends and commanders. His easy temperament, his willingness to help everyone and volunteer first for every mission made him a favorite of the department. The good-hearted smile was the hallmark of his personality. “Show happiness to all around you,” said one of his subordinates. He knew how to calm his quiet, confident gaze, and often Fischer only confided in one another. “A man of look,” described him who knew him. The young man, handsome and gentle, were friends. His optimism was contagious. But now his family knows that he carried a fear of death as a threat to fate. Kivan served at the Hyacinth outpost, which knew the days of battle and fire. He was not afraid of anyone and yet by SMS he wrote to his girlfriend: “I was born for you, and I fought for you and I was killed for you.” The things were burned like a firecracker and standing on the mound of his ashes, she was twisting this last letter in her hands. His mother, too, bore a sense of fate, and a day before he fell he felt a hidden fear gnawing at her heart and found no rest. Her husband reassured her, “There is no reason to worry, there is no sign from far and near that justifies any concern.” On the 20th of Elul 5762 (August 20, 2002), Kivan was killed in operational activity at the Hyacinth outpost in the Gush Katif area. He was killed in the morning by a Palestinian sniper. He was twenty years old when he fell. After his death he was promoted to sergeant. Survived by his parents, two brothers – Eran and Eitan and sister – Linoy. He was laid to rest at the military cemetery in Segula, Petah Tikva. Kivan’s wonderful voyage The smiling and confident boy from Tehran ended up in the land of Israel. His mother says that on the day of death hopedA friend of his father’s son, whose son the soldier also served at the Hyacinth post, was informed that there had been exchanges of fire. “Everyone’s all right,” his son told him, and he was quick to calm down Kivan’s father. The father tried to calm the mother, but instead of relaxing, she was shocked, called the outpost and asked to speak to the commander of Kivan. “Quinn is dead,” the mother said, and the commander was silent. That night he was at the head of his soldiers in the cemetery, clutching the shoulders of Kivan’s parents, who stood on their son’s grave and eulogized Cohen in a voice choked with weeping. Chief of Staff Moshe Ya’alon wrote to the family: “Kivan was described as an outstanding warrior, who invested most of his energy and strength in the job. He was the first to help and help all. “My father, the battalion commander, eulogized Kivan:” Kivan, I learned a lot about you on this day. You have captured the hearts of your friends, is considered to be the department’s lover, the leader in the department. You liked what you did, and you wanted more. “” He was a professional, a loyal friend, and first of all he was a human being, “said Daniel the company commander. “I was familiar with you on your first day in the army: a tall, handsome boy with a lot of smile,” says the company’s deputy commander, Yaniv. I found it very hard to see sadness. ” His friend Chen writes: “It is precisely now that we are in line and need the most for each other, you left us like this and joined the angels in heaven.” “I have three brothers, and I never had a brother like you … I’m very proud to have known a star like you and I’m sure that’s the way everyone is, and I wish my sons will have qualities like yours.” Shlomit, the company clerk, says: “You said that the main thing in your opinion is not to go first or last, but to come together and not leave anyone behind.” “My mother’s health problems do not impair my military functioning,” says his friend Ariel. “The country he came to when he was a child under the auspices of his parents buried her in her land, The star. “Assaf writes:” You shot with your new projectile straight to the point, as if it had always been yours. “Eivan, Kivan’s older brother, writes to him:” Kivan, there is no way in the world to part with a brother. You were born two years later and yet we grew up as twins. In 1987 we went to Israel, supported each other and integrated into the country despite the difficulties. From the day we came to Israel our paths were intertwined, we spent, played and experienced the same experiences of childhood in common and mutual support. We attended the same school and the same brigade. You chose to continue your career as a computer technician in the framework of reserve studies. The fact that I joined the army and you continued to study did not prevent us from remaining good friends, spending time and supporting each other. As a big brother, I always thought I would be an attentive ear to you, to Eitan and to my appointment. Today, after we’ve lost you, it’s clear to me that I can only be attentive to Eitan and to the appointment. Kivan, where you are, know that we will never forget you and will continue to bear with pride. From a convoy of heavenly angels that now carries you to heaven, I request, my brother Kivan with pride and pride that he deserves the care of an angel. My dear brother! Rest in peace and know that by the day of my death I will take care of our mother, father, and dear brothers with love and admiration that is unparalleled. We always love you. “The family wrote:” From Tehran to the Hyacinth outpost, “and in the lines of the personal inscription on the tombstone of Kivan, they parted from him in the sentence:” You have given this country that you loved all your heart and soul.