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As night over the desert, a little girl sits by a bullet riddled bus too frightened to cry. The violated body of her mother lies a few yards away. Her father, the bus driver, sits slumped over the wheel; his blood has mingled with that of twelve dead passengers. She can’t see her older brother.
In a few hours an army patrol stumbles onto the scene of what the morning newspapers will call The Massacre at Scorpion’s Pass. The little girl was Miri Furstenberg and sixty years would have to pass before she found the courage to write about what happened that day.
Miri and the State of Israel were both born in 1948, and her story is laced together with evocative scenes from the country’s own ‘biography.’ From Tel Aviv in the austere 1950’s, to the relative comfort of a kibbutz, helping unearth Masada and serving in uniform during the Six Day War, the author’s vivid memories and stark honesty about herself make compelling reading.
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