Rafael (Rafi) Mordo
Rafi Mordo was born in Tel Aviv on November 28th, 1938, less than a year before the outbreak of the Second World War, and was destined to live a life full of twists and turns. A truthful speaker, often painfully so, generous in deeds, economical in words.
His father, Menachem, was born in Corfu, Greece, from where the rest of the family would be taken to the Nazi death camps. His mother, Rosa, was from Italy. He said little about his childhood, but he was a mischievous child, and at the age of eight, he paid a heavy price for it: during a game in which participants threw a knife or dagger into the ground to demarcate land areas, a dagger ricocheted back towards him and he lost his left eye. Rafi typically refused to pity himself and boasted until his last day that despite his one good eye, he never received a traffic ticket. He loved driving.
He was the second of four children. His sister, Racheline, is still with us. His younger brother, Yitzhak (Chaim), fell in 1961 as a paratrooper, a loss he never forgot. Only last April, he wrote on the IDF fallen soldiers' website: "Years have passed since you left, but your image is engraved in my heart, my little brother." The youngest in the family, Rivka, was perhaps the closest to him. A traditional Greek – beautiful and vibrant – she died of cancer, which greatly saddened him.
At the age of 14 or 15, he came to Be’eri as a member of a Youth Aliyah group. In the kibbutz, Rafi found a home he would never leave. He was a handsome youth who would grow into an impressive man. He rarely spoke about his military service, except for one anecdote: in a rookie tent where he slept, there was a guy who was taken from there to a military band whose name happened to be Arik Einstein. Rafi participated in the Six-Day and Yom Kippur Wars, but he never talked about it.
After the army, he returned to the kibbutz and married Etti, who was in the original Youth Aliyah group that came to the kibbutz. Kibbutz life and manual labor suited Rafi. He worked initially in auto mechanics and later in the Be’eri print shop. He was diligent, respected, and loved his work very much. His golden hands built beds and cupboards for many kibbutz members. Within a few years, Tmira and Sapir were born. From Tmira, who still lives on the kibbutz, he had three grandchildren – Roy, Gil, and Tomer, with Roy and Tomer still living in the kibbutz, and Gil living in Germany providing him with his first great-grandchild – 6-year-old Vega. Sapir moved to the United States, where he had two daughters - Alex and Inbar.
Rafi and Etti were married for thirty years. Rafi was a caring and devoted family man. For a relative or friend, he would do everything, but always in his unique way: straightforward and speaking his mind. "He could get up from lunch, leaving it behind uneaten, to drive someone who had asked for help." The balance between loyalty and criticism was also evident in his attitude towards the kibbutz. Every day he argued about the implications of privatization, complaining vigorously about the value members receive from their taxes, but he always remained a Be’eri member. He was also never concerned with the security situation in the area.
In his later years, his caregiver, Tzionah, a resident of Netivot whom he greatly appreciated, helped him. At the age of 85, Rafi was not considered a nursing-care candidate, and her support for him focused on laundry, company, and help walking to the dining room, where he met Tmira every day at exactly 11:30. Tzionah also had his last phone conversation with him. He told her that his neighborhood had been attacked and terrorists had broken into the house.
Rafi was critical and stubborn, but he was the first to stand by someone in distress. His life was characterized by complex romantic and family relationships comprising toughness, tenderness and a strong need for intimacy. He was critical but also committed in an unbounded way to others. Diligent, stubborn, talented, and possessing golden hands.
May his memory be blessed.
