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By the mid of 2005 I was very happy. I had just been recognized as a refugee by Bolivia. Very few persecuted Israeli citizens have survived to see such a moment, and I was the first one recognized by a Third World country. Meir Dagan – head of the Mossad terror organization - could not claim I was an economic refugee. I was working on The Cross of Bethlehem
Meanwhile, Somewhere in Tel Aviv…
”I don’t want him to have fun! A political dissident is to suffer!” said Meir Dagan, his bald head resembling a modern, evil version of Humpty Dumpty.
Patsies unable of moral judgments began planning the Mossad’s next attack. After the failure of the first violent attack, they decided making it in a softer fashion. After all, attacking a formal refugee could cause diplomatic repercussions.
Back in Bolivia
The Mossad has a small substation in La Paz, Bolivia. It’s hidden within a Bolivian-Israeli restaurant at the very heart of the backpackers’ area. “El Lobo” (“The Wolf”) it is called and it functions even now (May 2010) more than a year after Bolivia cut its diplomatic relations with Israel due to the crimes committed by the last in Gaza. It was one of the very few locations I was advised not to visit by the Bolivian authorities at the time the refugee status was awarded to me. Late at night, the indefatigable conspirators sat under the tenuous light of cheap kosher candles and began planning.
What type of access to me could they find? The entry points were clear: Suma Qhana and the Bolivian Police. The last acts as an autonomous and very corrupt entity. The attack against me in July 2009 couldn’t have been possible without their help; this would be disclosed in an article soon to be published.
Suma Qhana is a Bolivian music group that produces Christian music following the musical traditions of their Aymara ancestors. The name means “Road of Light” in Aymara. It refers to a well known Spanish-Aymara hymn which includes the following beautiful lines:
“Lead me, Oh Lord,
Through Your Road of Light
And happily, I’ll follow You
Until the end”
Suma Qhana members (Oswaldo Choque H., Carlos, Callisaya, Heriberto Callisaya, Luis Fernando Blanco, Ruben Tito Flores, and Julio Tito Flores) belong to the same congregation I was at the time. They have extensive contacts with American missionaries, which in South America double as CIA informants or worse. Consequently, I keep distance from missionaries and from Suma Qhana. At the time there was a war in Bolivia between the DEA and the CIA. The CIA planted coca while the DEA eradicated it. Later on, they were expelled by the new government of Evo Morales. Meir Dagan smiled smugly under his non-existing moustache; the young kids of Suma Qhana would be an easy prey.
The first attack seemed foolish, but in fact it created the background for the attack in July 2009 when everything was robbed from me. A friend sent me a few CDs of music (the same ones I mentioned in Surviving Passover). One of the members of Suma Qhana (Luis Fernando Blanco) entered my room and stole them when I was out. I took him to the pastoral body of the congregation. He admitted his deed, made a blasphemous statement in justification and was not punished; he never returned the stolen items. I never again left anything of value in the church. Meir Dagan’s smile became wider.
Several minor violent events happened after that, none of them of relevance, until I was violently robbed in a bus in February 2006. After that I made my first trip to the US. Upon my return, things had changed. Every time I left the church I was openly followed by locals. I began studying the events and quickly concluded they were watching the building’s electricity consumption; whenever the lights were turned off – it meant I was leaving or going to sleep. The solution was simple; I just stopped using mainframe electricity. There are other ways to produce light.
Meir Dagan was foaming with rage. On December 31, 2006, I was invited by the president of the congregation (back then Andres L.) to his house to celebrate the New Year. It was unusual, but I couldn’t refuse. In a small two-room apartment he lived with his wife and his eight children. Imagining myself at a military camp again, I did manage to fall asleep there. Next day he didn’t let me leave until the late afternoon. They wanted all signs of the intrusion to dry.
Back in the church things were wrong again. The surveillance re-appeared. One of my students at the seminary asked me “what were you doing yesterday up at 3 AM?” It meant now they could hear what was going on within my room. I placed a formal denounce at the refugees office, but they didn’t provide any help.
Three of the Quispe Brothers | Israeli Collaborators |
Eventually, I requested from the congregation to change room (the church building has three small apartments). By mid 2007 I got that. Meir foamed again and the new president of the church – Wilson ACho - made a bold move: he brought from nowhere a group of five young bothers to live in the church. This was unusual, since the congregation is mainly composed from people from Chejje, Sorata, but I couldn’t oppose that. I was forced to move to a little room that can be surveilled from the street, especially since Munaypata (“Hill of Love” in Quechua) is a very steep neighborhood. The Quispe Brothers were brought for more than moving me upwards to a seeable room. They were noise makers. Accordion serenades at my door at 3 AM, and other types of noise. They made suspicious phone calls, whenever I entered and left the building, apparently informing their masters of my movements. They suddenly displayed an unexpected level of wealth, which included a new fancy harp; none of them has any level of studies and they live on subsistence jobs. Moreover, at the same time an important member of the congregation openly told me he was offered a gift if I married one of his daughters (she could be used then by Israel to extortion me afterwards). I openly asked from the congregation to help me find a rented room in March 2009. Renting a room in La Paz is difficult for me; the Aymara areas of the city are quite xenophobic, while the Spanish speaking neighborhoods were far beyond my financial capabilities.
Wilson - the president - began playing a delay game, I was offered no help with the room. “Mañana” was the lemma. Eventually, the morning of July 23, 2009, was unusually noisy and I left early. A truck was waiting there; shortly afterwards I was strangled almost to death and robbed of everything (soon I’ll describe the event in excruciating detail). The same day – after getting a massive dose of cortisone that enabled me to speak – I spoke to the congregation describing the event. I explained it was the result of the cooperation of certain members of the congregation with the Terror State of Israel. I did speak about that for years, so they knew the theme; most of them even knew who I was talking about. Then, Wilson broke in open laugh. Was he counting the silver coins promised to him?
Suma Qhana | Serving Judas |
The attacks in the church continued and eventually I left the congregation in late November 2009. Since then, I’m living in guesthouses – with the little income from The Cross of Bethlehem
Wilson Acho: Congregation President | Partially responsible for the attack on me Zion | People know the truth |
Is out there any decent society capable of providing refuge from the Zionists?
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Please contribute to my cause by purchasing a copy of my book The Cross of Bethlehem
Roy Tov is a refugee recognized under the 1951 Geneva Convention. Due to a recent attack by Israel, he was left with permanent damage in his throat. Israel attempted also to entrap him in several ways, even by using a prominent American politician. He is seeking resettlement under the 1967 Geneva Protocol or to be gracefully recognized by other country under the 1951 Convention. In any case that must be in a country with no diplomatic relations with Israel.
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