As they recount their experiences, their words seep into our consciousness. The feelings are seared into our bodies. Through their stories, we can momentarily enter their captivity. We can feel the blood freeze in terror for a split second. We can be in the depths of shock. We can taste the sand. We can inhale the dust and mold. We can smell the horror and suffocation. We can also witness the strength of spirit beyond the realm of normal human experience. We marvel at their courage, survival instincts, fighting spirit, and faith. Their bravery at every moment, from the time of their abduction to the present – in the lives they are trying to build in this insane reality.
In the end, it's the small, simple things we take for granted: morning coffee, the quiet on the balcony, routine, freedom. "Going to the bathroom freely without asking permission, showering when you're sweaty, leaving the house, simply opening the door – and going out." These are the moments Shlomi and Almog now savor and appreciate so much.
After 246 days in Hamas captivity in Gaza, after the inferno and torture, after the fear of death was an inseparable part of the air they breathed, after severe humiliation, "creative" punishments, deceptive "rewards," after severe violence, wounds, pain, and longing, the two tell their story.
"What really hit hardwas that even in the shower, even in the bathroom, you had to get permission and also hope they'll agree," says Shlomi Ziv. This is the first time since he was rescued from Hamas captivity along with Almog Meir Jan, Andrey Kozlov, and Noa Argamani in Operation Arnon, that he's sits in front of cameras and sharing. In normal life, he really doesn't like being photographed. The whole setup and public exposure make him feel a bit shy. Nevertheless, he's aware of the immense importance of documentation. "If it's for the world to know what they did to us, what we went through in captivity – I am willing to do it," he says.
"That's what's important – to pass the story on," notes Almog, who's now sitting next to him in front of attorney Susie Ozsinay-Aranya, the documenter from the Government Press Office. "When I came out (of Gaza) and heard that there are people who deny it – like Holocaust denial, I didn't understand how it's possible. I was part of it! Of course I feel a need and also a desire to say 'This happened to me. I experienced it. It's about me.'"
This is one of the main goals of the national documentation project of returnees and families of hostages for the State Archives, a project led by the Government Press Office (GPO) under the leadership of Nitzan Chen, with the support of the National Public Diplomacy Directorate. "This is the 'Yad Vashem' of October 7," says Chen, referring to the national Holocaust memorial and museum. Ozsinay-Aranya add, "So that the whole world will know. So that even our grandchildren and great-grandchildren will know what happened to our people in the worst tragedy since the Holocaust."
As part of the project – which we've been following closely in recent weeks – 25 released hostages of all ages and 21 family members of hostages, many of whom are still in the midst of the horror, share their story of captivity and return to normalcy, from the most terrible and horrifying place where they are denied the most basic human rights – to freedom. Shlomi and Almog, and everyone documented before them – for those are still in the Hamas hell on earth – to illustrate how time is running out and how immediate the danger is. How captivity doesn't let go, even when they're no longer there.
"It's strange to be home"
Shlomi arrives wearing a Nova shirt with the inscription "WE WILL DANCE AGAIN," a silver necklace with the symbol of the struggle to bring back the hostages from the Nova rave on Oct. 7, and another necklace with a dog tag from the Nova community. Almog sits next to him, and they both attach the microphone to their shirts. Almog's new tattoo – designed like a newspaper page documenting their heroic rescue – peeks out from under his pants.
On Shlomi's hand is a tattoo documenting his first encounter with terror, in 2002, on in Hebron. At the top is the inscription PTSD, revealing another part of the inner strength that helped him cope with the trauma of captivity. "So, how does Shlomi look on camera? Handsome?" Almog asks jokingly and winks at his good friend. As in captivity, even now Almog manages to lighten the atmosphere and give those around him a moment to breathe. "I need a moment of quiet," requests the sound technician, and Susie briefs them: "We usually start the testimonials with each person introducing themselves."
"I'm Shlomi Ziv. 41 years old. I was in Hamas captivity for 246 days."
"I'm Almog Meir Jan. 22 years old. I was kidnapped from the Nova party. I was in Hamas captivity for 246 days and was rescued with Shlomi and Andrey."
"How is it to be home?" Susie asks, and both respond: "Strange."
"Everything has changed," Almog shares. "People's attitudes, how they look at you on the street. Everything you do represents something. I'm happy that I can represent something so big, and even happier that I'm here, but it's not as if I am back and everything is the same," and Shlomi adds, "That's what's hard for me. It's a completely different life."
Shlomi arrived at that fateful party as a security guard on Thursday already. For the pre-party. There, in the command post, he stayed even when everyone started to pack up and flee because "part of security is that you have to go last." Only when shots were fired in his direction and "someone shouted 'They're coming! They're coming!' – we started running," he recalls. "Everyone who was there. I ran through the entire parking lot, westward – towards Gaza. I hid in a bush. I heard gunfire, and someone came running and shouted 'The terrorist is coming.' I thought to myself – either I run, or I stay. I decided to stay. I said – either the terrorist takes me, or the story ends. He saw me, called me, and didn't shoot. I understood I was going towards Gaza. I thought about what I could do now to get out of the situation, but I realized that there's nothing I could do."
At this stage, Shlomi and the terrorist see Andrey, who also worked as a security guard at the party, coming running from nowhere. "The terrorist told me 'Call him.' I call Andrey, he comes to us, and we sit on the ground and wait. The terrorist asks me if I can drive, and it's running through my head, what do I answer him now? Andrey even thought the terrorists was an IDF soldier. Only in the car did he understand. I looked at him and said 'It's not what you think. Understand the situation.' I got behind the wheel. Andrey sat next to me and the terrorist directed us to Gaza."
"Through looks, in whispers"
Even here, in front of the cameras, they give each other strength. The special bond formed between them is stronger than words. A hand resting momentarily on a knee. A glance. A smile. A wink. The humor. The understanding that only those who were there and survived countless encounters with death together can have. In retrospect, Andrey Kozlov said in a testimony he gave a few weeks before them that "every decision we made was the right decision – but we couldn't have known it at the time."
Shlomi and Almog can relate to this. There was a very difficult event – the house where the three of them were staying was under IDF bombardment. Shlomi, Almog, and Andrey were still chained, completely helpless. The terrorist guarding them was reciting chapters from the Quran and wouldn't allow them to escape. "Andrey said the terrorist really wanted to be a shahid (martyr)," Susie tells them.
"It was a very difficult day for all of us," Shlomi agrees. "The homeowner came in and said in Arabic to the guards 'Captain so-and-so called'. I hear 'Captain' and I understand it's Israeli intelligence saying to leave the house – because they're going to bomb now. Within four minutes, there wasn't a single person in the neighborhood. You hear the women and children taking themselves and fleeing. In the house too, except for one who stayed with us – all the captors evacuated and we were left there chained, hearing the planes in the sky, and the one guarding us standing with a knife in his hand, because Andrey wanted to go out."
Almog looks at Shlomi and continues his thought: "We thought about what to do. Maybe we should jump him and escape."
Shlomi: "Physically we could have done it, but... Okay, we go outside and then what? They see us with chains, they understand exactly who we are. It's not like we're completely free now." In these terrifying moments, the friends communicated with each other "through looks, in whispers." They understood they had no way to escape the situation. "We understood there was no option to escape, that the most important thing was to stay together," says Shlomi. "At every stage we chose what to do – we checked all the chances, all the possibilities, and came to the conclusion that it wasn't worth it. You can't risk your life on something you plan in a minute and a half."
"We were literally with mattresses on top of us, so shrapnel wouldn't fall on us," Almog says. "We tried to protect ourselves as much as we could," adds Shlomi, and Almog seems to continue his words: "Mostly we prayed and started to say goodbye. You hear the planes and then sss... the whistles." Shlomi shivers. "It was one of the scariest days," he says. Even after the first hostage return deal ended, the three experienced a difficult period "of missiles and bombardments," Almog recalls. "We were very close to the fire. We heard gunshots all night." And Shlomi adds: "Close explosions that shook the entire building."
Thus, terrified, with mattresses barely shielding their bodies, they were etched into the collective memory in the stunning footage from the IDF soldiers' GoPro cameras when they found them. Throughout their captivity, they hoped they would be rescued, but also feared it. "We understood there was a better chance of coming out alive in a deal," says Almog. "We thought a lot about freedom," describes Shlomi, "we heard about the three who tried to escape and were accidentally shot by the IDF. All this makes you think and fear taking the next step."
Almog: "When you think about trying to get out, you take into account that the IDF is close and there will be gunshots and explosions. Our captors also knew that the IDF was approaching, and then it goes through your mind – Will they shoot us, or will they tell us 'go hide' while they fight? It's a situation we don't want to enter, because we don't want our soldiers to risk themselves for us – and we didn't want to risk ourselves either."
Shlomi: "The biggest fear was that they would kill us. They'd say, 'If the soldiers come here, then tak-tak-tak' [implying being executed]. They also told us to our faces that if they come to rescue us, they'll kill us. That if the IDF manages to reach us, they'll managed to bring back only bodies."
Alongside the fears, the three hostages never stopped imagining scenarios and planning how they would act in every situation. After the first deal, they thought with concern, "They released the women, could it be that they'll forget about us? How long will it take until the next phase? How many years? You hear from them that there are talks about a deal on the table," says Almog. "It gives you strength and hope," adds Shlomi, "and then a week later they announce - no deal, and all the time they tell you 'Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu doesn't want, that's also what's written in Al-Jazeera'." Almog: "They tell us – 'They don't want you, they don't care about bringing you back alive'."
Shlomi: "The biggest fear was that they would kill us. They'd say, 'If the soldiers come here, then tak-tak-tak' [implying being executed]. They also told us to our faces that if they come to rescue us, they'll kill us. That if the IDF manages to reach us, they'll managed to bring back only bodies."
What kept them hopeful was also the strong internal knowledge that they would return home, even if it could take many years. "I thought I was going to be there for at least two years," says Shlomi. Almog: "I was very optimistic that we'd return home, but it was hard to maintain the optimism." Shlomi: "Every time there was something on the table I thought maybe they'd surprise us, and then you're disappointed again," and Almog completes his words: "But the faith was very strong in us. We always believed we'd return home. We planned for the day after. I imagined myself already at home. What I'm doing, what I'm fixing, where I'm traveling, I put myself in the mode that I'm coming back."
The dreams, which have disappeared for Almog since returning, also protected them in captivity. "The good dreams," Shlomi emphasizes. "You don't have a picture you can look at. You're afraid of forgetting the faces. There were moments when I'd say 'Wow, I hope I don't forget what Mom looks like, what my wife looks like...' and then when you dream – it fills you up, it gives you a good boost."
"When you miss someone, the only thing you have is thoughts, memory, imagination," adds Almog. "If we dreamed that we saw our family, I would tell him (Shlomi) 'Wow, I saw my mom, I saw my dad'."
"The project of life and death"
"Beyond the historical documentation – the big picture is important. The puzzle is coming together as we hear more testimonies," says Nitzan Chen, director of the GPO, which, as mentioned, is leading the project of documenting the returnees and families of hostages for the Israel State Archives with the support of the National Public Diplomacy Directorate. "And beyond that, we want there to be a current and international impact," he stresses.The GPO created, from all the testimonies, a difficult-to-watch video containing the essence of the evil and horror experienced by the hostages who returned; a video that was screened on Holocaust Remembrance Day for representatives of international media and diplomacy and stirred many echoes. "We approached the project with a mission," says Susie, "but you can't be mission-oriented in such an event. It's hard to hear all the horrors and not cry with them during the filming. This is essentially the state – the establishment crying with them. It's also challenging, because when you come to a family whose world has been destroyed and they blame the government – and for many we are state employees – we remind them 'We are here for you. For your benefit. To make you story live in posterity'."
As part of accompanying the project, we were exposed to the unique details of the many and varied modes of captivity experienced by the hostages, but also to coping methods and experiences common to the survivors. For example, the fear of IDF bombings, the constant fear of the unpredictable reaction of the terrorists as a result of the intense fighting – which is repeated in many of the testimonies of those who returned from captivity.
"From many hostages we heard that their biggest fear was to be left alone," says Michal Bardugo, who along with Susie and Adiya Imri Orr, documents, investigates, and leads the project. Many of the returnees shared their immense difficulty when they were released and left hostages behind. "For the returnees – the most important project is the project of life and death. They took with them the responsibility for the soul of those they left behind," says Susie.
The fear of rape, sexual assault, and cases of sexual abuse also came up in many of the testimonies. "There was a family that shared how they feared for one of the daughters," Susie recounts. "Every little glance from the kidnappers would drive them crazy. There was constant verbal harassment. One of the kidnappers said he wanted to marry the girl, and that at her age, in their culture, girls are already married. The girl herself pretended to be asleep most of the time and minimized speech and communication with the kidnappers. There were female hostages who reported being touched in intimate areas while being dragged to the bathroom or for checks. There were female hostages who met other female hostages who had been sexually abused under threats.
"Many of the hostages talked about the 'chip check'. Hostages who were in houses, with families, underwent a physical examination when a Hamas or Palestinian Islamic Jihad terrorist would arrive – to verify that they didn't have a chip that the IDF had implanted in them in case they were kidnapped. They demanded they remove clothes and patted them down on their body."
Many hostages spoke to the documenters about the violent and frightening entry into Gaza. "They recounted how they were beaten, robbed of their jewelry. They had earrings torn from their ears. They shared how they saw the Gazan mob with toys, furniture, sweets, televisions, bicycles, and children's ride-on toys stolen from the kibbutzim. They saw this and couldn't believe it. They thought it was a hallucination. Many described how upon entering Gaza, the mob began to attack them, how they feared a lynching and how the terrorists tried to keep them away from the Gazans.
"The abductors' leader was always 'Mohammed'. One of the female hostages told how she made up names for each of them. There was one who liked to sing, so she called him 'The Nightingale'. The one who cooked was called 'The Chef' or 'The Cook'. The one who was scary or tended to threaten with a weapon was called 'The Devil'. In the midst of all the horrors – there were also moments when the kidnappers revealed "positive" sides. Chen Goldstein, for example, recounts how the family members who guarded her and her three children – shielded them with their bodies every time there were explosions or tremors. How they told them, "If we die – we die together".
Alongside few moments of compassion were many unbearable cases of abuse, of terrible treatment and humiliations. "It's meeting human evil in the eyes of the captors," says Susie.
Shlomi, Ziv, and Andrey describe in their testimony horrific tortures, humiliations, and a constant barrage of mental abuse. "There were punches, kicks in the stomach out of anger," Shlomi describes. "He (the terrorist) didn't know how to control his feelings. He had fits of rage. There was also verbal violence. He said we were insects, cockroaches, that we need to be sprayed, that we're bloodthirsty." Shlomi recalls "that we are nothing and worthless. That in another situation we wouldn't be here anymore. And we would listen and wound't answer."
Almog: "This is the process we went through there. This is the resilience. To detach yourself from the situation, to swallow your pride hard and understand that it's not important to answer him. What do I care what he thinks of me."
Shlomi: "There were times we confronted them," and Almog nods, adding, "But we paid a heavy price for it. You get punished. You go through days of severe humiliations, threats – 'At night I'll kill you. I'll take you down to the tunnels.'" Shlomi: "There was a lot of psychological warfare. Sometimes they would starve us, sometimes prevent us from going to the bathroom. He would really humiliate you and you're helpless." When Shlomi describes these matters, Almog immediately finds an example: "They allow you to shower once every two weeks. You're in an uncomfortable situation with yourself, feeling unhygienic, and they come in the morning with a spray of perfume, pass by you and say 'Wow, what a stench.'"
Many hostages spoke to the documenters about the violent and frightening entry into Gaza. "They recounted how they were beaten, robbed of their jewelry. They had earrings torn from their ears. They shared how they saw the Gazan mob with toys, furniture, sweets, televisions, bicycles, and children's ride-on toys stolen from the kibbutzim. They saw this and couldn't believe it. They thought it was a hallucination. Many described how upon entering Gaza, the mob began to attack them, how they feared a lynching and how the terrorists tried to keep them away from the Gazans.
The main captor, the homeowner who was later revealed to be an Al-Jazeera reporter, also had sadistic punishments he invented and inflicted on them without context. "He was 'creative,' this Mohammed. He would tie our hands tightly behind our back, or put a pencil or piece of wood inside our mouth between our teeth so that our lips would go back like this, strongly – for two hours. He ties the pencil, and you can't even swallow your saliva. We had cuts from it," Shlomi describes. "I would bang my face at him 'Have mercy on me,'" says Almog and demonstrates with a smile. "Let's say, he didn't like us walking in the house. If he saw one of us standing – suddenly 'Okay, you stood? No problem. I want you to sit for a week now. If you're going to the bathroom – crawl. I don't want you to stand.'"
Shlomi: "But we would have break after four days. We were the best we could be. Winning him over by being good children." Almog: "Dying to give him a punch, but swallowing it. Disconnecting the emotion." Shlomi: "Putting the ego aside."
As part of the deception meant to create total control, alongside the punishments the captor invented, "rewards" also came randomly and unpredictably. "You can't expect from the person what he'll do on that day. In the morning he would wake up in a mood 'Don't talk, I don't want to hear you.' Suddenly in the afternoon he was nicer: 'Okay, come on, you want? Let's watch a movie ('Speed').' And after five minutes: 'What, not good for you? You're making a face at the movie? Come on, get out. No more movies. That's it,'" Shlomi recounts.
Almog leans closer to Shlomi, puts two fingers to his temple and demonstrates: "There were situations where he just came to you with a gun and deliberated out loud: 'Kill you? Not kill you?'"
"Playing charades"
They weren't allowed to cry, even when it hurt or was scary. They constantly shouted at the children "Uskut" (be quiet). Everyone who was held captive underground talked about the sand that got everywhere, into clothes, under fingernails, into food, into breathing. "One of the older female hostages described how she remained mostly alone locked in an apartment," Susie recounts. "That she managed to develop a relationship with the animals around her. She noticed, for example, that the cats don't prey on the mice."
The severe hunger was one of the prominent issues in captivity, along with longing for family and Israel, but also for human company, to "hear Hebrew," as the project leaders explain. "The thing that was most significant for many of them was when they were transferred from the Red Cross to IDF representatives in Egypt – and suddenly heard Hebrew."
Time also becomes an enemy in captivity. Time that doesn't move, when there's always terror about the next moment. "Hours upon hours with nothing to do," many returned hostages described. "The adults who were together in captivity decided, for example, to play social games. They would play 'countries and cities'. They would decide to talk about, say, details in history. Take a topic and start analyzing it by countries. Or they would play charades to pass the time. For some of the children, they brought cards or papers and pencils so they could draw, but didn't allow them to take the drawings with them."
Many of the returnees talked about the psychological warfare. "All the time someone is sitting and watching you. Examining you. Wanting to know what you're thinking about. Most of them said that at some point they would place their weapon next to them – cocked," says Susie.
"Many of the hostages talked about the 'chip check'. Hostages who were in houses, with families, underwent a physical examination when a Hamas or Palestinian Islamic Jihad terrorist would arrive – to verify that they didn't have a chip that the IDF had implanted in them in case they were kidnapped. They demanded they remove clothes and patted them down on their body."
All the hostages who returned in the deal shared that they weren't afraid in the tunnels as much as during their emergence from the tunnels for the handover to the Red Cross. "These were the scariest moments, when they shook their car and again many Gazans swarmed them," Susie recounts. The exposure to daylight, when leaving the tunnels, was also difficult for the survivors. "You're blinded. Can't handle the light."
"At this stage they started bumpting onto the car, to get excited, to hit me in the head, guys from behind, fists, and I'm realizing an arena with stands packed with people, children, and women, and babies, and men," one of the women documented in the chilling advocacy video produced by the GPO describes – "to show the horrors that will be etched in international consciousness," says Chen. Another hostage describes: "The civilians were hitting, they made a demonstration as if I'm in the middle, and many people who were there hit me. All the men spitting and shooting and the women in the windows rejoicing."
There are hostages who returned in a very difficult mental state and currently have no ability to give testimony. "They sank into a terrible depression. With an inability to come into contact with the outside world. People who shut themselves off. Cases of suicidal thoughts, nightmares, extreme difficulty returning to routine. There are those who can't get out of bed," says Susie.
Eitan Yahalomi, the 9-year-old boy, describes how he was held alone, and the kidnappers showed him difficult videos of terrorists killing people. Another female hostage describes how one of the terrorists shouted at her that she was a murderer and intentionally hurt her. "Seven, eight terrorists entered, three with knives, one with a Kalashnikov and two more – one with a shovel... The entrance (to the tunnel) is terrifying as hell. It's the shock of your life. You see it on TV and suddenly in reality, and you can't believe it's in reality. And then they transferred me to a sort of prison with a few more hostages, like a dog underground."
Another female hostage describes: "There were hostages who suffered from nightmares at night, suddenly waking up screaming, suddenly developing a fever. There was a lice outbreak, I've never seen such big lice in my life. Predatory animals." Another hostage recounted: "I'm lying on a stretcher on the floor. They're making scary faces at me. Baring their teeth. Making this movement with their finger," he demonstrates a slitting motion across the throat.
"Our added value," Chen emphasizes, "is that those giving testimony know that they are for future generations, so they allow themselves to tell things they won't say on commercial and public television. For example, cases of sexual violence."
One of the female hostages describes, for instance, how they had to ask permission to enter the bathroom and also to exit. That the terrorists could enter the bathroom even during shower time whenever they wanted. Another female hostage describes multiple intrusive touches to intimate areas accompanied by curses, humiliations, and threats.
Another female hostage described: "The kidnapper approached her (one of the hostages), caressed her, took advantage of the moment to grope. It's so despicable when it's with a weapon pressed to the temple, and he's touching her in all parts of her body." Another hostage describes how she was dehydrated and didn't have the strength to stand or go to the bathroom. "You're helpless, can't move your body. Even if I wanted to resist in this situation, I can't. You're nothing and worthless and he really believes you're nothing and worthless. At every moment they wanted to break you spiritually, mentally, emotionally – in every possible way."
"The role of Avinatan"
"I am Ditza Or. There are many things I've been in my life, but since Simchat Torah, I am the mother of Avinatan Or."
Ditza sits in front of Susie, knowing that every word she says has deep meaning. That her pain and the disaster that struck her family have a part in the history being written now. We are accompanying the documentation – which is part of a collection of testimonies from family members of hostages and those who were held captive. In this part of the project, Liora Argamani was also documented while her daughter Noa, Avinatan's partner, was still in captivity. "Avinatan was kidnapped when he was 30 and turned 31 in captivity. He is the second of seven children," the mother says about her Avinatan: "He is dominant but quiet. Quiet with a powerful presence." She then shares the difficulty of talking about the day of the kidnapping itself. "It's still not deciphered for me. Still locked."
"The last time I met Avinatan was on the first day of Sukkot. His role was to build the sukkah and dismantle it at the end of the holiday. When the war started, many neighbors offered to dismantle it for me. After three months, our officer said 'That's it, it's time to dismantle.' It was very difficult. You expect Avinatan to come and do it."
Before the documentation, Ditza had managed to meet – for the first time – with Noa. She doesn't share details she heard from her about the captivity, "that's hers." She does mention that "Avinatan had an opportunity to escape, but he didn't abandon Noa. That's who he is. He's the type who protects. If there was a reality where he escaped and they caught Noa, he couldn't have continued." Operation Arnon, in which Argamani was also rescued, planted a lot of hope in Ditza. "I believe it's possible."
"I had the chance to meet with Liora Argamani a few times. The last time at Ichilov Hospital. I told her about the meeting with Noa. That she has an amazing daughter, beautiful, incredibly smart, brave-hearted, good. 'You raised an amazing girl...,' I told her.
"From that moment on we (Ditza and Noa) have a very meaningful connection. Something very open, real, deep. It immediately goes to the truth... and we both love him endlessly." At the end of the first meeting between the mother and Noa, Ditza recounts with a smile and shining eyes: "I said in my heart 'Avinatan – I approve.'"
"Each testimony has three parts," says Susie. "We explain to those being documented that we're not looking for headlines. It's not like a TV report. We want to hear from the beginning to the end – who the person is, their background, what life looked like until the moment of kidnapping and how they're recovering since they returned. Every small detail about how they were kidnapped and their stay in captivity. Who they met there. The information gets reviewed by the censors, so often they feel very open to share."
When you hear the testimonies in full, and are exposed to the complete and detailed story, it's hard not to shiver from the abundance of sensations, feelings, and thoughts.
"I'm Doron Katz Asher. 34 years old. Married to Yoni. Mother to a 5-year-old girl and a 3-year-old girl. We were released in the first phase," Doron says at the beginning of the recording. She describes the anxiety that grew as the terrorists roamed Kibbutz Nir Oz and wreaked havoc, recounts how the terrorists who entered the safe room asked her and her mother to remove their jewelry. Her mother had a ring that had been passed down from her great-grandmother's grandmother, a Holocaust survivor. "It was a ring from Germany from generations back with black diamonds. When he asked for the ring I said: 'Mom, give it. They have a gun.'"
Later, Doron describes the violent kidnapping. "I felt I was injured. We sat in the wagon. I shouted 'I'm injured'. The tractor stopped. The Israeli hostages took my daughters, got off the wagon and ran into the field. I was injured and found myself on the tractor alone with my mother, she was still sitting... I brought her closer to me and realized she had been murdered. She was in her last breaths. I tried to find a place to put her head. I laid her down, hugged her and realized I had to get down. I was afraid they would separate me from the girls. I got off the wagon, started to realize I was going to lose consciousness."
The unbearable moments when Doron realizes she has lost her mother, Efrat Katz, 68, and she must find her children – are just chilling. Doron describes how Sharon Cunio came to take her to the girls until more terrorists arrived and forced them to get up and board another tractor.
"I started to sink. We pass a burning tank on fire. The entire Gaza fence is breached. Hundreds of civilians, children, shouting, throwing things, and meanwhile I see the terrorist with Raz." Doron shouted "The child!", and the terrorist passed Raz to the tractor. "They transferred us, 11 people, to a small private car. They pushed us on top of each other while I'm bleeding on everyone. We drove deep into the Strip. At high speed. The girls aren't crying."
Over the days that passed, Doron grew stronger and functioned despite the severe pain throughout her body. She asked the captors to bring papers and colors for the girls, so they would have something to do. She taught her younger daughter to write. The captors brought them baby toys from the house, but mostly Doron kept her daughters occupied with imagination games. "I asked them to close their eyes, guess what object I'm holding. The girls made a pillow course. At night the girls slept, I barely did. There were stressful booms and you have nothing to do. On the 16th day they woke us up 'Quickly! Quickly! The IDF called that they're going to bomb the house – we must leave!'"
"They took our identity"
Every released female hostage, every survivor who sits in front of the cameras and in front of the documenters, looks straight ahead bravely and describes the indescribable. The testimony of Chen Goldstein Almog, who was kidnapped from her home in Kfar Aza with three of her children, after her eldest daughter, Yam, and her husband, Nadav, were murdered before her eyes – is also breathtaking.
"In the early morning hours we heard an explosion in the house... we heard light gunfire," she describes. "There was a child crying, but it was relatively quiet. Yam was very scared. You have to understand the low point we reached. Mortal fear that we experienced for the first time. Shock. We were quiet. We were using the bathroom in reusable bags, in boxes. You have to understand the magnitude of the distress... and then we hear screams 'Al-Yahud! Al-Yahud!' We realize they're in the house. They were outside the safe room door. I took the big teddy bear. I understood that they were shooting very quickly. I thought they were riddling us with bullets. I thought if I put the teddy bear on us, it would soften it a bit."
Nadav, the father of the family, tried to protect them. He took a board from one of the beds, stood by the door without a weapon, and was shot immediately. The terrorists also killed Yam during the preparations to leave. "I see that she's shot in the face," Doron describes. "It was a shocking sight. I'm in shock. Stunned. Is this what I'm seeing now? Later, in the frightening and difficult hours of darkness, I force myself not to forget this sight. I didn't throw myself on Nadav. I chose to go with the living. I didn't stay with Nadav and Yam. The terrible understanding was already there."
During one of the transfers between apartments, Chen describes how the kidnappers "brought us traditional clothes. It was very difficult. We got dressed and looked at each other, Agam and I, and started crying. They took our identity. They were fascinated that we wore the hijab. For them it's an honor to a woman. It's royalty."
Chen, like many hostages, describes the immense difficulty involved in the loss of privacy. When at every moment there's someone looking at you and trying to invade your thoughts. "You experience the crazy fighting and try to maintain hope. Optimism. It can't be that they'll give up on us. That they'll forget us like this. There were difficult days of crazy attacks that tore apart my body, my life, my soul. You can't explain what goes through your body in this destruction. We saw the fireballs from Gaza. There were days when I felt I was going to lose my humanity."
In the detailed testimony, Chen also talks about the emotional damage and the time that doesn't pass. "We tried to keep ourselves busy. To play, to write. One of the captors came with a lighter and burned the children's creations. They would go into the children's pockets, check what's there, 'take this out, write only in English' or 'just draw, stop writing in Hebrew.'"
Later they were transferred to a tunnel. There they met other young female hostages, wounded, full of inner strength, who managed despite severe physical injuries to take care of each other. "In the tunnel you always have sand in your mouth. Mold. Lack of air. Very difficult conditions. There's ambiguity and silence. There was already less food. More hunger was felt. The girls slept in cramped conditions. I got a mattress. Four girls sleep on two mattresses. One is injured in the hand and must ensure that no one touches her there. We slept like sardines."
"They're still there," she says painfully. "Our exit was a very painful moment. They thought they were next in line. Occasionally they were allowed to listen to the radio. They pick up Army Radio, Kan 11, Reshet Bet. Every newscast where they didn't say a word about the hostages – it was devastating to us."
"Keep believing"
At the end of the testimony, Susie asks Almog and Shlomi what they would say to the hostages who are still there. "To always keep believing – because it can happen. To be strong like they are until now and to take care of themselves," says Shlomi. "And it's very important for me to say thank you to Arnon Zemora, who lost his life in this operation. It's not taken for granted."
"May his memory be blessed," Shlomi and Almog say together, and Almog adds: "Just as we returned – I hope they will be stronger than us. That they keep the hope alive – it's easy to lose it, but you also need to know where to draw it from. If I could come to them in a dream and tell them something – I would tell them 'It will happen soon.'"
This is how they tell it now, while the event is still unfolding. While the private and collective trauma is still bubbling. They tell – not for today's news, and not just for our ears. They bravely give testimony for the grandchildren of all our great-grandchildren. They share and report – for documentation in the Israel State Archives, for the world's condemnation and eyes – about war crimes. Severe crimes against humanity. Crimes against innocent human beings. Crimes that undermine human existence, of vicious and cruel terror that continues to maintain the October 7 tragedy to this very day.
