MENIFA’s “In the Company of My Brothers” program was recently featured in Israel Hayom, highlighting the life-changing impact of civilian mentors who support at-risk soldiers and young adults throughout their military service. The article shares powerful stories of resilience, demonstrating how personal guidance, trust, and long-term mentorship help vulnerable young people overcome significant challenges, complete meaningful military service, and build successful, independent lives.
Below is the English translation of the article.
Read the full original article in Israel Hayom:
https://bit.ly/4pm3g9d
“I didn’t see a criminal,” says Orly Fox, 46, recalling her first meeting with Dima Yermanko. “I saw a boy who had made a few mistakes that created a snowball effect. He had no family support network and no guiding hand, and things spiraled into tragedy. I met a lost boy who had been sitting in military prison and had become entangled in financial trouble involving hundreds of thousands of shekels—but when you look at him, you see an innocent boy, a law-abiding, ordinary person.”
Orly and Dima met through “BeHevrat Achai” (“In the Company of My Brothers”), a program operated by the Menifa nonprofit organization that matches civilian volunteers with soldiers who need guidance and support. She is from Haifa, married and the mother of three, an expert in physical chemistry and a business consultant. He is a young man who immigrated to Israel alone from Ukraine, fell into debt, failed to report for enlistment, was arrested, and was imprisoned for desertion.
The program is designed to strengthen the civilian support network of candidates for military service and soldiers who are the first generation in their families to serve in the IDF—new immigrants, lone soldiers, and young people who have left ultra-Orthodox society—alongside young adults from disadvantaged socioeconomic backgrounds who are at risk and coping with complex life circumstances. Its goal is to give them an opportunity to integrate into military service and complete it with a sense of capability, belonging, and meaning.
The military “melting pot,” as is well known, serves as a springboard into civilian life and enables social mobility. It opens doors to social and occupational integration, strengthens independence, and builds a sense of responsibility. Young people who do not have a supportive network behind them during military service—especially during wartime—may fail in their service, and in many cases that failure can become a barrier to their integration into civilian life.
At the heart of the program are the male and female mentors—citizens from across the country who volunteer their time in full and serve as a “significant adult” for the young people. They accompany them through moments of crisis, help them make decisions, support them as they deal with personal, family, financial, and emotional difficulties, and sometimes remain in contact even after their discharge. The personal relationship that develops gives the soldiers stability, trust, motivation, and a sense of belonging.
Creating that relationship is no simple challenge in itself.
“The connection was not immediate,” Orly admits. “At first, it was as though Dima deliberately did the opposite of whatever I told him. I asked to see documents so that I could understand how to deal with the debt and build a recovery plan for him, but he did not cooperate. You can understand him: suddenly a stranger arrives and enters his life. In the culture he came from, it is not customary to accept help from a stranger; it only arouses suspicion. It was hard for him to trust me, and for me it was extremely difficult and frustrating.”
Orly understood that she had two options: either give up, knowing that after the army Dima might drift into crime in order to repay his debts, or build trust between them and, together, pave a path toward a law-abiding civilian life of employment and family. She decided to have a blunt and honest conversation with him.
“I told him, ‘All right, listen. I completely understand you. A stranger is entering the most personal parts of your life. But this will not work unless you trust me. I promise that I will get you out of this and help you get onto the right path, but you have to do what I tell you. We will walk this road together.’ It was a moment of crisis. I remember him sitting there and crying like a little boy. It was the kind of crying that came from deep inside.”
“At that moment I felt that she wanted to give up on me,” recalls Dima, now 30. “I did not know how to explain that I could no longer breathe, that I had no air, no money, no food, and that I did not feel like a human being. My problems were always with me, and I could not think about anything else. Today I understand that Orly did not really want to give up on me, and that this was her educational way of shaking me awake, so that I would be in the process not at 30 percent, but at 100 percent.”
A Wake-Up Call
Dima immigrated from Ukraine alone at the age of nineteen and lived with his grandmother in Bat Yam. His original plan was to study Hebrew at an ulpan and enlist, but then he met people who proposed doing business with him.
“I did not understand that these were shady schemes, or that money does not grow on trees,” he explains. “I was not smart enough as a kid to realize that I was being taken advantage of. I went into debt for 100,000 shekels, which, with all the interest, grew to more than 200,000 shekels. These were not debts to illegal lenders; they were debts to the bank and to various companies—and I did not know how to get out of them.”
Orly Fox: “At first, it was as though Dima deliberately did the opposite of whatever I said. I asked to see documents so that I could understand how to deal with the debt, but he did not cooperate. You can understand him: suddenly a stranger arrives and enters his life.”
“In the meantime, I received my initial military summons, and they determined that I was suitable for combat service. I did not attend the later summonses, and then suddenly they called me and said that I had to report to the induction center the next day to enlist. I was shocked, because I had not even received the document with my enlistment date. I traveled to Tel Hashomer, brought all the documents showing my debts, and explained that I could not enlist like this. They told me it did not concern them and that I had to get on the bus to basic training. Instead of getting on the bus, I walked out of the base and went home. That is how I began the process of evading military service.”
For three and a half years, he was considered a deserter. Military police came several times to look for him at his grandmother’s home, but he no longer lived there. Eventually, the civilian police arrested him while he was riding a motorcycle without a helmet, and from there he was transferred to the military police. At his trial, he said that he had wanted to enlist and be a good soldier, but that all the problems he was facing left him unable to breathe. The military defense attorney assigned to him persuaded him to enlist and promised that the army would help him deal with his debts through legal channels.
After seventeen days in prison, Dima was released and reported to the recruitment office, as he had promised.
“I received a uniform and began basic training,” he says. “I was already twenty-four, six years older than most of the others, but I really enjoyed it. I loved the atmosphere and the action. I asked to be a driver and to serve on a daily-return basis so that I could also work and repay my debts. They therefore sent me to the Air Force Technical School in Haifa for a driving course. I continued serving there, and I really loved the role I was given.”
The army kept its promise to help him. It provided him with legal assistance from an attorney and connected him with Orly, his mentor, through the nonprofit organization, which works in cooperation with the military.
Orly, how did you become involved with the nonprofit?
“Six years ago, a friend of mine who was the nonprofit’s northern regional director told me that they had a problem with a soldier they were supporting and that they could not figure out how to crack the case. She said he was in serious distress and that she thought I was the person who could help him. I told her, ‘Gladly.’ She connected us, and he was my first soldier. I met him every week, mostly in restaurants, because I like to spoil him and let him order whatever he wants. We also spoke a great deal by phone, but I felt that it was not working—until that conversation.”
The wake-up call that Orly gave Dima worked, and it became a turning point in the relationship between mentor and mentee.
“From that moment on, he became like clay in the hands of a potter, and we set out with a recovery plan. It was a highly intensive process that included meetings with the attorney who accompanied him and the submission of reports to the Enforcement and Collection Authority. At the same time, he continued his military service as a driver in the Air Force. His commanders also allowed him to work alongside his service, and in this way, little by little, with my close guidance and supervision, he managed to put money aside.”
But Orly was not only strict.
“She came to my home, helped me organize the invoices, told me what I was doing right and what I was doing wrong, and took care of me just like a mother. I owe her for the rest of my life. To this day, no matter what is happening, if Orly calls, I answer immediately. If she needs something from me, I drop everything and run.”
A Deep Bond
After Dima managed to save some money, he submitted a proposal to the Enforcement and Collection Authority, under Orly’s guidance, to settle all his debts.
“The Enforcement and Collection Authority accepted it. We closed his case and canceled the order barring him from leaving the country,” Orly summarizes. “As things began to fall into place, the connection between us deepened. Once he told me, ‘You were more than a mother to me.’ I did not come to replace his mother, but when he said that sentence to me, I choked up. It moved me beyond words.”
Toward the end of his service, Dima stood before 200 lone soldiers at an evening attended by the commander of the Air Force and told his story. An entire hall applauded one soldier who had traveled an almost impossible road. Dima did not forget to thank his commanders, the attorney from the Military Defense Counsel—and Orly, his mentor.
He successfully completed his military service and worked in the profession he had acquired in the army—as a truck driver. Orly remained in contact with him even after he became a civilian. When he decided to start a business, he consulted her, and she recommended that he approach the Chamber of Commerce and obtain guidance for small businesses. Today, Dima runs a successful business transporting and installing furniture for luxury companies. He owns two trucks and employs five people.
“He works, he is diligent, and he is succeeding,” Orly says proudly. “He lives with his girlfriend, he is very happy, and I am happy too. I thank the nonprofit for the privilege of giving. I volunteer in several other places, but what is special here is that this is an established organization. We undergo training, including sessions with outside lecturers who share their educational and social experience, as well as joint meetings of the mentors in which we raise our dilemmas and challenges and brainstorm with the program director, Yehuda Weil, and with the coordinators and social workers who lead the project. We have an open, daily channel of communication with them, and they help with everything we need.”
After Dima got onto the right path, Orly continued with her next assignments.
“I mentored a young woman who had grown up in a residential institution without family support and very much wanted to enlist, but she had an extensive psychiatric history and the army did not want to accept her. I told her that the role she wanted and was aiming for in the military was not realistic, but that there were many other meaningful positions. I suggested that she enter the army as a volunteer. She agreed, and then the task was to approach the army, find the right position for her, and persuade the relevant officials.”
“In the end, the army accepted her as a volunteer in the role of guard-duty coordinator. She felt that she was doing meaningful work and enjoyed organizing the guard rosters. After a few months, once she was satisfied with her service, the relationship between us loosened, and today I am no longer in contact with her. A deep relationship does not develop with everyone.”
Today, Orly is supporting two young women. One is a candidate for military service, a new immigrant from South America who is expected to enlist in the coming days.
“She has a wonderful family and a warm, loving home, but because her parents know nothing at all about the army, they are extremely anxious about her enlistment and do not know how to guide her,” Orly explains. “I am helping her find the most suitable role in the army and preparing her for enlistment—even down to what she needs to buy. I also became close to her family, and at one point her mother told me that one of her employers had failed to contribute money to her pension fund, so I stepped in to help her as well.”
The second young woman is a soldier who was removed from her home by court order when she was ten and was unable to manage in the position to which she had been assigned in the army.
“You can imagine the circumstances that led to her being removed from her home. She is a wonderful, sweet, intelligent young woman who is full of determination to succeed. She simply needs a guiding hand—an adult who can help her a little at the crossroads along the way.”
“Our relationship began a few months ago. She went through a crisis in the army and was sent for reassignment. The first thing I did with her was simulate an interview with a placement officer. I helped her speak in a way that would open up more options rather than fixating on something she had heard about from a friend. In the end, she received a much better position than the one she had initially considered. She serves in the office of the Soldiers’ Complaints Commissioner and sorts the initial inquiries. For her, it is a source of great happiness.”
“She told me, ‘Now I make sure that every soldier in the army is treated well. Look at how things have come full circle.’ She asked me for a weekly meeting, and that is what we do. We meet every week and speak by phone every other day. I feel that my relationship with her will be long-term.”
Etia Dan, the nonprofit’s founder: “Our role is to be the soldiers’ civilian support network. We do not replace their parents, but we have mentors who care for soldiers like parents, and there have even been mentors who financed academic studies for their soldiers.”
“When people ask why I love volunteering, I answer that it nourishes my inner self. We had a mentors’ gathering at the President’s Residence. I am not a religious person, but I said there that God has given me abundance in life, and I feel a need to go out into the world and share that abundance. It brings blessing into my life. I cannot change the whole world, but if I can change one person’s world, that is enough.”
Emotional Responsibility
The range of cases accompanied to date by the nonprofit’s male and female mentors reflects both the broad spectrum of soldiers supported by the organization during the eleven years in which the program has operated and the nature of the relationships that develop between mentors and the soldiers who rely on them.
Daniela, a pseudonym, was a seventeen-year-old preparing for enlistment who had severed ties with her ultra-Orthodox family. Noa, also a pseudonym, was her mentor and gradually became a close figure in her life, until Daniela became part of her household. Noa accompanied Daniela during a period in which she experienced sadness, lack of motivation, loneliness, and intense emotional dependence. She hosted her regularly and helped her in dealings with military welfare officials and the army. Alongside her desire to help, Noa also faced a considerable burden: uncertainty about how long Daniela would remain with her, heavy emotional responsibility, and a sense that at times she was the only person holding the entire situation together. Nevertheless, she continued to embrace and support Daniela.
“Two of my children are soldiers, and the third is about to enlist,” Noa says. “I see how important it is for them to have a place where they can release pressure and share what they are going through, and I wanted to give that to someone who did not have such a place. Of course, there are difficult and challenging moments along the way. When Daniela’s residential institution closed for a holiday, for example, I realized that she had nowhere to stay for two weeks, and I offered her a spare room in my home for the duration of the holiday.”
“I knew that this was a very significant commitment on my part and that it would not be easy for her, either, to adapt to the home and its rules—and it certainly affected the atmosphere in the house. The moment of success came when my eldest daughter said, ‘At last I have the sister I always wanted.’ It was a long process, about a year, but today Daniela is part of us, part of the home.”
Menachem, a pseudonym, came to Guy, also a pseudonym and his mentor, in an emergency situation. Menachem had grown up in a Hasidic ultra-Orthodox family that had become involved in a cult. He had no contact with his parents, had become entangled in debts of thousands of shekels to illegal lenders, and was facing threats to his life. He had no permanent home and would sleep at friends’ homes or in public parks. More than once, he went absent without leave from the army and committed disciplinary offenses. Guy, who works as a bank credit manager, was called in to try to help Menachem escape his debts.
“The first thing Menachem told me was that what mattered to him was completing full military service,” Guy says. “That sounded like an impossible goal to me, and the first objective was simply to get him back on his feet. I managed to arrange a bank loan to cover the debt and to help him fully exercise his rights as a lone soldier in his dealings with the army. It was not easy.”
“More than once, I felt as though I was chasing after him—as though the cow wanted to nurse more than the calf wanted to drink. Our relationship consisted of a meeting once a month and telephone calls. Sometimes he would not answer me for weeks, but I did not give up. In the end, Menachem succeeded in completing a military driving course and obtaining a truck license. He called me, deeply moved, and told me that this was the first time in his life that he had succeeded at something.”
Then, despite Guy’s guidance, Menachem became entangled again when drugs were found in his possession. He was tried and imprisoned, and his driver’s license was revoked. Guy tried to help Menachem cope with the consequences, and in the end Menachem completed three years of military service. Today, a year and a half after his discharge, Menachem has found steady employment, managed to save money, renewed contact with his parents, and is about to marry.
“Menifa was established to prevent young people from dropping out of the education system at an early age, but then we discovered that the work does not end at eighteen and that the army is critical, because successful military service leads to successful citizenship,” says Etia Dan, the nonprofit’s founder and director. “We began the project in 2014 with Israelis of Ethiopian origin, and three years later we expanded the circle to soldiers who are the first generation in their families to serve in the army and who need a family support network that understands what the military is. We cooperate with the army, and to date we have assisted thousands of soldiers.”
“Our partners are JDC, the Ministry of Welfare, Keren Kayemeth LeIsrael–Jewish National Fund, and Fox Group. Thanks to them, we support approximately 600 soldiers and candidates for military service, most of them immigrants from the Bnei Menashe community or from the former Soviet Union. The army refers the soldiers to us because it, too, now recognizes their need for support. The IDF understands that approximately 4,000 soldiers are at risk of dropping out of service, and it believes that with the right support, 2,000 of them can return to full—and even highly successful—service.”
“We do not replace the soldiers’ commanders, and we do not relieve those commanders of the responsibility to care for them. Our role is to be the soldiers’ civilian support network. Nor do we replace their parents, but we have mentors who care for soldiers like parents, some of whom have even financed academic studies for the soldiers they support.”
“I would like to use this platform to call on people to volunteer, so that we can reach all 4,000 soldiers who need this support.”