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I was with my parents, happy, joyful and satisfied. My parents have been raising me for 12 years.


Rea (age 8), Sharat, Sh’mariah, Nechonah (age 12)

Then, suddenly on September 5, 2013 I was taken by the police together with my brother Rea, away from my parents. Together with my brother I was put in a foster family. From that day on I was no longer happy, joyful and satisfied. I might have had a little fun but not real joy.

First I thought I was in a good family, but then I noticed how the foster mother was against our community. I tried to tell her that we were living according to the gospel, but she didn’t stop talking against us.

My brother then was put in a different family, together with Noach ben Miriam. This was very hard. But when I look back now, I think it was good because what happened to me after this was even worse.

My foster parents started to mistreat me. I got to know how it is to be mistreated. I wasn’t loved the way my parents loved me. No longer could I stay there. It was too hard. So I ran away.

We found a kind servant* who allowed me to stay with my parents for the night. Next morning I went to the minchah* and had breakfast with everybody. Then I went with my parents to the judge. She had a few minutes for us. I told her what happened.

Then we also asked her why it is so hard for her to let the children go back to their parents. She opened up a little bit as she explained the great struggle inside of her. She had to decide between the law and her heart.

Perhaps she was about to cry…but she didn’t let me stay with my parents. The “Jugendamt” (Youth Department) came, looked for a new place for me to stay, and took me there.

I learned and saw the difference between discipline and mistreatment. I could see how horrible
it is to be mistreated (of which the authorities falsely accuse us).

Much love, Nechonah bath Sharat (12)
(still in captivity)

*Servant = a government official who serves the people, not one who lords it over them.

*Minchah = our daily gatherings, morning and evening, where we sing, dance, share, and lift up our thanksgiving and prayers.


Is there heart left in Germany?

Read about the Pfeiffer family.