I heard the same thing over and over again, when asking Israelis about the hostages, having returned to Israel at the start of this war.
"I think of the hostages when I'm in the shower...as the warm water rushes over me..." people say.
"I think of them when I eat...and when I shower."
All of this time, I have wondered - do they really not shower? Once, I read about Hamas terrorists watching the women when they shower, which of course is chilling, but - did that mean they shower?
I know from Tom Hand that his young daughter Emily didn't shower during her two months in Hamas captivity. I know that her "group" was given bins of warm water and a cloth. I know they all had lice from the filth of their conditions - and Emily's group was above ground, not in a dark, wet and moldy tunnel, where even oxygen is scarce.
What about toothbrushes? Feminine products? Toilet paper? All of these thoughts about hygiene have been top of mind for those of us consumed with the plight of the hostages, but even for someone as determined to keep these men, women and children in people's minds all over the world, I eventually became less preoccupied with them myself. I was recently so tired from a surgery, that the thought of a shower seemed monumental. I put it off for hours, and once I got it done, I dreaded the always challenging task of brushing my long and knotted hair. "Another chore," I texted my friend dramatically, until I finally went digging under the bathroom sink to find my detangler spray.
When I found it, I had a deja-vu from childhood, remembering that it had been called "No More Tears," and this was appropriate since right as the bottle was found my tears had arrived, my head back in Gaza with these young and beautiful girls...where it should have been all along.
Those early days in Tel Aviv, approaching random Israelis to ask them how they were not obsessed with the hostages all of the time - to ask them how they were functioning.
I couldn't imagine living normally, working and smiling. I was so lucky to have just completed a work contract prior to October 7th, and to not have to really do anything. I was blessed to be able to totally fall apart, and to watch the news day in and day out.
I was lucky to have the time and the ability and the fearlessness and the idea to fly to Israel. The gorgeous customs woman in the empty airport in Tel Aviv had opened my beyond expired Israeli travel document and said, "You haven't been here in a long time."
"I know," I said in Hebrew, looking down, my face just milliseconds away from crumbling.
"Like, a really long time," she pressed, in Hebrew, and at least, after eleven years, I understood her, but I'd wanted to fall to the floor and beg her forgiveness.
"I know," I repeated, and my eyes filled to the brim. "I've been alone," I said carefully, "since my mother died, and...and then October 7th, and nobody called, and...I needed to be here. I needed to help. I'm going to write about the families..."
I'd looked back up at her sheepishly, so humiliated and...guilty...for this (hafkara?) abandonment of my dear country, and I was surprised to see it was now her face only milliseconds away from crumbling, and her eyes filled to the brim with tears.
We were looking in a mirror, she and I, a mirror of pain and of understanding, and I knew in that instant - that I was back home.
"Toda," she said, unable to utter more, her tough Israeli-ness fighting to win. Thank you...
...and I was waved in - after eleven years "ba chul," - outside of Israel - "out there."
And this website was built, and I focused on the male hostages, and was then led to the community and tragedy of Kibbutz Be'eri, and so incredibly, throughout all of this time, I have not written about Naama Levy or the other women taken hostage, though I know their stories.
We all know their stories.
These girls were the eyes of Israel. They were tasked with watching the border with Gaza - that's it - and they saw this attack was coming. They saw it and they warned their higher-ups about it, and they were told, "You are the eyes - you are not the brain."
These girls, 19 years old, could see Hamas in obstacle courses, practicing for something. They could see that undoubtedly an attack was being planned.
These girls were and are our warriors - yet they were not taken seriously.
And at 6:30 in the morning, their base at Nachal Oz was ambushed, their friends and fellow soldiers murdered, and the famous image of Naama, being pulled out of the back of that damn Jeep, her grey sweatpants bloodied at the crotch and elsewhere, would go viral in those early hours after the attack - an image so powerful and horrific - that it has become a symbol for women internationally to dress like her and protest, hands behind their back.
Naama's mother Ayelet, has been tirelessly interviewing and advocating, and is a doctor. Just the knowledge that Naama was shot on October 7th has had her worried her daughter would not survive her time in captivity. I have seen interviews where she talks about the shrapnel being poison, and how it leaking into her blood - how that alone - can kill her.
Karina Ariev, who spoke to her parents the morning of the attack, famously told them to "continue their lives," something that reminds me that Israelis grow up with the knowledge and fear that something like this can happen, and that even when it does, there's a calmness and an ability to see what it could become (477 days)...and that the concern is family.
Karina speaks four languages fluently, is an expert at putting puzzles together, plays the flute and sings.
(Does she speak Arabic?)
She is from Jerusalem, a creative writer, and loves to cook.
(Did she cook for them in Gaza? Like Noa Argamani?)
Her sister Sasha told the Daily Mail, that she was ordered to "keep our parents safe and to be strong and not to wallow in sorrow but to continue living, should she not survive."
It is truly impossible to imagine having such composure and clarity and...foresight...at the age of 19 in the middle of a terror attack - and yet that is apparently who Karina Ariev is.
Liri Albag was recently seen in a harrowing hostage video, released by Hamas.
Her family asked that it not be shared in full with the public, but allowed still shots from it to be shared. These were enough for the world to see what her family called their unrecognizable daughter.
To brush Liri's hair...
You can see in these shots the filth this young woman has been subjected to for 477 days. You can see absolute desperation, devastation - and horror.
It's also important to note that these young women were not taken in their IDF uniforms, but in their bloodied pajamas, though we are prepared for them to be released "in uniform."
It's a fact in Israel that our soldiers are subjected to much worse torture than our civilians, so just imagine what is done to female soldiers.
"I wake up in the morning alive and go to sleep dead," her father Eli told the BBC in January of 2024, struggling with his inability to have kept his daughter safe.
"I couldn't sleep for three days [after seeing her picture in the blue hoodie] because I see my daughter in shock," he said.
Mr. Albag knows from hostages released at the end of 2023 that Liri was alive and "physically unhurt" at that time, despite having been kept in a tunnel with no electricity, food, water, or even air. He also knew for a fact that at that time - she had not had one shower in two months.
Adding to his nightmares is his near-certainty that she has been sexually assaulted during her time there. He felt the released hostages knew this and were attempting not to tell him to spare him the grief - but he could tell - by how they looked away when he asked them difficult questions - that they knew things about his daughter.
"She was the happiest...she liked music and to dance...and had friends from all over the world," he said about his youngest daughter, but added that all of them - her two sisters and little brother - that since October 7th, 2023, "we are not living."
Daniela Gilboa's birth name was Daniel, and this has been her name her entire life, but after the October 7th attack, her parents visited a rabbi who advised they change her name to Daniela, adding the Hebrew letter "hay" to the end, which sounds like "a," and offers divine protection.
"My dream is that she comes back and yells at us for changing her name," her mom told the Jerusalem Post.
Daniel(a) wants to be a singer, and is very talented, as seen in this video.
A video of her was released by Hamas in July of 2024, alongside Karina Ariev and Doron Steinbrecher, who was released last weekend on day one of this ceasefire.
"To my dear family," Daniela said in the video, "I miss you so much and love you - Mom, Dad, Nuni and Roiko. Please stay strong and do everything you can to bring me home while I'm still alive."
She spoke with her family and boyfriend on the morning of October 7th and was able to send her boyfriend a few short videos. Because of this, he saw what she was wearing and later that day, the family was able to recognize her from a video they came across - because of her shirt and her small ponytail.
Her boyfriend of now eight years has sought the blessing of her parents to propose to her.
"I picture her walking in the door and coming home," her mother Orly has been saying in interviews since the very beginning, as if this power of prediction would speak it into reality.
At the time of this writing, Orly's wishes are set to come true in less than 24 hours.
-- May these four beautiful women, their parents, their brothers, sisters, entire families and all of their friends, find the courage and strength it will take to embark on this long and difficult journey of healing.
May their souls be cleansed from the hell and suffering they have endured.
--
In case you want to help:
October 7th brought me back to Israel, the country I made my home in 2004 for seven incredible years. Watching the Hamas celebrations around the world and experiencing the silence from my "friends" inspired me to tell these stories. I've spent six months "on the ground" in Israel paying for rent in the US and accommodation here. Any assistance (even $18) will go to supporting me in this endeavor as I seek to find a publisher to tell these stories. To support my work and writing, please visit my GoFundMe. Thank you and Shalom!
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