More than 400 days and nights have passed since my then 19-year-old daughter Naama was taken hostage to Gaza. Naama, a fun-loving teenager, loved by all, embodies the values of kindness, tolerance and compassion. From volunteering at a kindergarten for the children of asylum seekers to working to build bridges between Israeli and Palestinian children through the “Hands of Peace” organization, Naama is an idealist who believes in building a better world, not through her words but through her actions.
Over a year has passed since that horrific Saturday, when the world watched Hamas videos showing armed terrorists brutally dragging a beaten and bloody Naama with six of her friends into the trunk of a jeep that took them into Gaza, after forcing them to witness the murder of their friends. A year, and it feels like the world has moved on, and I am fighting daily to keep Naama’s name alive.
The haunting images of that day still torment me with a helplessness that I had previously only felt in nightmares. We know she was wounded, and today she and the 97 other hostages remain in grave danger. Released hostages have confirmed our worst fears about the violence and constant fear.
Last November brought a glimmer of hope when 105 hostages, mostly women and children, were released and reunited with their families as part of the first and only hostage release deal. But Naama wasn’t among them. Since then, despite numerous opportunities for additional deals, each failed negotiation has been another missed chance, another day of separation, another night of uncertainty.
I don’t know where Naama is, under what conditions she’s being held, what she’s going through, or her medical and physiological state. I must learn to cope with this uncertainty. For over 400 days, men, women, the elderly, and two young children have endured abuse, at times sexual, starvation, and darkness in underground tunnels. Now, with winter’s harsh cold setting in, their chances of survival under these inhumane conditions grow even more desperate.
As a doctor, it is chilling to me that the voice of the global medical community is barely heard. The October 7 massacre, the hostages’ health conditions, and the lack of medical access violate every international standard and law. I’ve met with both the Red Cross President and WHO Chairman on several occasions and was shocked to find that the hostages’ dire situation did not seem to be among their priorities. All they offered was a hug and a little empathy. While international organizations remain silent, we cannot afford to wait. Time is running out.
International Human Rights Day was earlier this week, marking the end of the 16 days of Activism Against Gender Based Violence. I am imploring the people of Canada, who have always stood for justice and human dignity: your voice matters now more than ever. Do not let these hostages fade from your consciousness. Do not let their suffering become yesterday’s news. Your support and advocacy could mean the difference between life and death for my daughter and the other hostages.
I constantly imagine the moment of Naama’s return and dream of our life together after this nightmare ends. These visions feel so real, so tangible. When I walk with Naama’s younger sister through our neighborhood, I can’t help but picture their reunion. At every step, every street corner, I imagine us together after she returns from that cursed place. Until then, I talk to Naama in my thoughts, telling her to stay strong, reminding her that she’s a true survivor, and that beyond all this hardship and suffering lie the good days ahead — when she’ll finally be free.
National Post