It was a time when a sterile woman was likened to a dead tree, a childless man was counted lifeless and the crown of existence was the birth of a male child to carry the name of his family.
What could a sterile woman or a lifeless man do in those days? They went on pilgrimage to holy sites where long dead saints rejuvenated stale unions. Those were the clinics where infertile couples were impregnated and where male off springs took place in wombs where only female broods were born. When a child was conceived, the pregnancy was announced to the sound of cries of joy. From that moment, every precaution was justified to carry the pregnancy to full term.
My conception was announced in a whisper and although my parents lived in Israel, far from Maghreb, cries of joy spread the news in my hometown, from its northern edge at the Fort of Tel Hi to its south end at the JFN Nursery.