luding some from Mishmar Hasharon, descended on them and, armed with clubs and wooden staves, drove them away. I was shocked. I’d seen the photos in Davar le Yeladim celebrating the airlift, with the Yemenis kissing the airport tarmac in relief, gratitude and joy at finding refuge in the new Israeli sta

is with curiosity and trepidation through my halting attempts to read Davar le Yeladim, the weekly children’s edition of the Labour Zionist newspaper Davar. We children felt an additional connection with what was going on. One of our Dror housemates, a boy named Giora Ros, had left the year before when h

luding some from Mishmar Hasharon, descended on them and, armed with clubs and wooden staves, drove them away. I was shocked. I’d seen the photos in Davar le Yeladim celebrating the airlift, with the Yemenis kissing the airport tarmac in relief, gratitude and joy at finding refuge in the new Israeli sta

is with curiosity and trepidation through my halting attempts to read Davar le Yeladim, the weekly children’s edition of the Labour Zionist newspaper Davar. We children felt an additional connection with what was going on. One of our Dror housemates, a boy named Giora Ros, had left the year before when h

him after Saturday lunch at his home. When I arrived, Rabin got right down to business. “Ehud, you wanted to see me?” he said. “You’ve probably seen Davar,” I replied. “It was a pretty nasty piece. It distorted things.” Yet as he began asking for details, it seemed he had no idea what I was talking abou

him after Saturday lunch at his home. When I arrived, Rabin got right down to business. "Ehud, you wanted to see me?" he said. "You've probably seen Davar," I replied. "It was a pretty nasty piece. It distorted things." Yet as he began asking for details, it seemed he had no idea what I was talking abou