Our story begins in the difficult days of World War II. In 1941, when the entire world was in flames, Haifa was a city of constant tension. The struggle between Jews and Arabs in Palestine-Jewish Palestine intensified under the shadow of the Mandatory government, when in Haifa, the mixed city, yesterday's neighbors often became enemies. In those days, when the Germans approached the gates of the country, fortifications were erected in Haifa, and Hadar al-Kamel became a fortress of the Hebrew settlement opposite the lower city.
I grew up in this complex reality. In 1948, with the establishment of the state, I lived with my parents and my baby sister Desi in a one-room apartment on the fourth floor with a huge balcony, at 10 Yerushalayim Street in Hadar HaCarmel. We lived there on "key rent," as was customary in those days. My mother, Ada, the late, who was an educator throughout the Iberia region, was among the teachers who founded the mythical "Hogim" school, which was then located on nearby Pevzner Street. I was a first-grade student at the time.
Shortly after November 29, 1947, when the echoes of dancing in the streets over the UN resolution were still in the air, the War of Independence broke out. The relative calm that had been maintained since the events of the 1930s and early 1940s dissipated. Arab snipers stationed in the lower city began firing frequently toward the higher Hadar neighborhood, and the streets became a battlefield.
In front of the entrance to our apartment, on the roof of the building, my busy mother used to hang laundry. One day, while my mother was hanging the white clothes and my little sister was crawling beside her, a sharp whistle was heard. A shooting incident began in the area. Miraculously, the sniper missed my mother by a few centimeters.
My terrified parents frantically searched for the bullet on the roof, but the bullet had disappeared. The mystery was solved sooner than expected and surprisingly: it turned out that my baby sister, with toddler curiosity, had found the shiny "toy" that had landed next to her and simply swallowed it. My parents were at a loss and terrified, but after a while, to everyone's delight, the "lost bullet" found its way out naturally.
The housing crisis was also finally resolved. My parents closed off part of that balcony and turned it into another room, where my sister and I grew up safely. Happy ending, all is well, in our home and in our young country.
Author: Yael Balaban, nee Yehudai, Haifa 04/15/2026
A reminder in first-hand testimony that the events of the Guardian of the Walls are not a one-time event or an act of retaliation for the actions/words/decision of one or another minister or government, but rather a heavy cloud that this country has carried with it since we returned to it and established it, and it may come true again each time.
And we saw in the Wall Watchers what only a small part of the 11% of minorities who lived in the city at the time (mainly young men, but certainly not all of them) caused. Today, their proportion in the city is about 14%, according to municipal data, and their proportion will probably continue to increase due to natural increase and immigration to the city from the villages of the north. Where is the government and the legislature to stop this drift to the city and ensure our existence here? Today, even in the police, in my opinion, they are the majority and carry weapons. Some were even recruited without military service. And if and when Wall Watchers events break out in Israel again, who will take responsibility for the situation and the dilemma they face?
And all this is because no one in the government has a future vision for the fate of the country. We saw the failure during Lapid's time, who gave our enemies in Lebanon strips of water without responsibility, and also the promises made by this government about a year ago that Hezbollah was supposedly deterred and weak.
Nice story. It's strange that the baby swallowed a bullet from a rifle and didn't choke, but the bullet found its way through her digestive system and out of her body. All's well that ends well. By the way, the previous name of the 22nd Battalion Bridge was the Bridge of Heroes. There is the brook of Heroes. The bridge is of course named after the 22nd Battalion, which is mentioned in the story in the defense of Haifa with the establishment of the state against the Arab fighters.
Mentions parallel facts. A little sister, a closed balcony, whippings, classes and of course childhood in Hadar.
Beautiful story!!