General translation:

It was good. There was no fear. Everyone was ok. We left the synagogue. We went outside to the market, to hang out. I mean, we were free – you’re not scared.

Perish the thought that an Arab would do something terrible to a Jew, “his luck would fall” (expression). The Jews there are hot-headed and love each other very much.

We are from Tripoli and we spoke proper Tripolitanian, not like the way they speak in the villages. For instance, “Would you like something?” “We will give it to you!”. It was all good.  

The streets there were mixed – Arabs and Jews. We lived together when the majority were Jews. If someone did something bad to a Jew – they showed him alright! We were fearless.

It was good amongst the Jews. No fighting. If you fell out with someone, they would immediately make peace between you. They would say “what’s with the fighting? We are neighbours, aren’t we?.

Tripoli is a big city; there’s no chance to get to know everyone in the community. Only those who you meet on Shabbat and holidays.

We had a place called “Communita” – if there was anything you needed – they would bring it to you. All you had to do is ask, and without even knowing, you’d find it right there.