The Call That Changed Everything
It’s not every day you get a call that sounds like the setup for a prank. But in June 1992, my phone rang. On the other end was a “Professor Yuri Hanin,” a name I didn’t know, who introduced himself as a project manager for the Ministry of Agriculture.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, his voice serious. “We have an urgent problem, and we need your help.”
“A problem with what?” I asked.
“I can’t say over the phone. We must meet.”
The secrecy was palpable. Intrigued, I agreed. We set a meeting place at Nahsholim beach, near Caesarea. The journey there was an adventure in itself. The entrance was through a huge banana plantation, and I, in my trusty Skoda truck, somehow managed to get stuck.
And not just stuck. I was stuck right next to a massive pile of chicken manure, on an especially hot and humid Israeli summer day. Trust me, I eventually got used to the smell; the thousands of biting flies swarming me… not so much.
It was only after a tow truck arrived with a mechanic to fix my vehicle that I could continue the drive, finally arriving at the fish ponds feeling less like a scientist and more like someone who had just survived a bizarre ordeal.
The meeting itself was held between the large breeding ponds, inside an ancient Roman structure, one that had been repurposed as a British command post during World War II. The air was thick with history, and as it turned out, anxiety.
I walked in expecting a one-on-one chat. Instead, I was greeted by a panel of about 20 people—professors, scientists, and officials, all looking incredibly distinguished and incredibly worried. A long table was set with food and drinks, and for a bizarre second, I waited for someone to jump out with balloons and sing “Happy Birthday.”
That’s not what happened.
Professor Yuri stood up, introduced me to the panel, and then dropped the bombshell.
“We are in trouble,” he began. “The country is in trouble. And if we don’t solve this problem, we risk losing something that may never return.”
I was completely baffled. I thought, this has to be staged.
Then, he said it: “The fish in Israel, and perhaps the world, have… lost their sexual appetite.”
I was speechless. My mind immediately went to hidden cameras. They’re joking. This is impossible. But as they continued to talk, detailing the solutions they had already tried and the global experts they had consulted, I realized with a sinking feeling: they were dead serious.
“But… why me?” I finally asked, looking around the room. “I’m a water guy. I don’t know anything about the private lives of fish.”
“That’s exactly it,” Yuri replied. “We think the problem is the water. We’ve tried everything. The biggest companies in the world have tried to treat these ponds. Nothing works. We were told that you are the one who can solve this.”
The mission, as strange as it was, became fascinating. This wasn’t a problem for a biologist; it was a problem for a water physicist.
I spent a little time reviewing their data. They had tried massive UV sterilization lamps. They had tried chemicals. Every conventional approach had failed. It was clear that a conventional solution wasn’t going to work.
“Alright,” I told the committee. “I’ll try something. But it has to be a non-residual treatment.”
In other words, no more chemicals. We weren’t going to add anything to the water. We were going to change the water itself.
My idea was to use a technology that wasn’t yet mainstream. I proposed building a system that would pass the water through a cylinder and treat it with specific electromagnetic waves. We would then adjust the flow and frequency based on the measurements they were taking.
They asked me how much the experiment would cost.
“Nothing,” I said.
Frankly, I didn’t believe I could solve a problem that the world’s top experts hadn’t. They had already paid enough for failed solutions. I’d do it for the challenge.
We built the prototype and installed it. Then, we waited.
Two months went by. My phone rang. It was Professor Yuri, and his voice was frantic.
“Baruch! We need your bank account number, immediately!”
The experiment hadn’t just worked—it had been a staggering success. The call wasn’t just to pay me; it was to order hundreds more systems for installations across the country and, eventually, the world.
The Lesson That Became a Legacy
That day in Nahsholim taught me a lesson that became the foundation of my life’s work. The most complex problems often hide in plain sight – not in the fish, but in the water they swim in.
That early experiment, born from a seemingly absurd crisis, was the seed. It proved a core concept: that we can fundamentally change the properties of water and solve massive problems without adding a single chemical.
That idea eventually grew into our “HP” technology, a system that uses similar principles to treat limescale and prevent bacterial colonies in pipes, which is now a leader in its field.
But more importantly, that philosophy is the DNA of TipaTech.
We believe water isn’t just something to be filtered – it’s a complex, vital medium that can be treated, balanced, and enhanced. When we look at water, we don’t just see H₂O. We see a carrier of essential minerals, a medium for vital energy, and the source of all health.
The journey that started with saving the love life of fish now continues with protecting the health of your family. It’s the same mission: looking at water not for what it is, but for what it could be.
