On Jan. 20, 1981, minutes after Ronald Reagan was sworn in as president, 52 American citizens held hostage in Iran for 444 days were released. Today, 96 hostages in Gaza have been held for nearly the same amount of time. As the American White House changes hands, I implore President Biden and President-elect Trump not to forget about them.
Among the hostages are two young children: Ariel and Kfir Bibas, who were just 4 years old and 9 months old when they were kidnapped from the south of Israel along with more than 240 others, including an estimated 40 other children. I know the filth, the fear, the torture they endure because one year ago, I was one of them.
On Oct. 7, 2023, my 9-year-old son, Ohad, and I were visiting my parents in Kibbutz Nir Oz. We woke to sirens shortly after 6 a.m.
From television and WhatsApp groups, we learned the terrorists were near. I started to panic. I told Ohad to turn off the TV and get under the bed. I heard the sound of machine guns. We turned off the lights and locked the front door. My parents joined us in the safe room; it had no lock.
Then we heard the terrorists’ voices. My father, who walked with a cane, tried to hold the safe-room door shut. Suddenly, there were five armed men with us in the room. They took our mobile phones and led us outside. There I saw a line of cars was on fire; terrorists were driving golf carts filled with looted possessions. It was chaos.
Our captors put Ohad, my mother and me in a golf cart. My father had fallen as we left the house. He was still on the ground as we were driven away.
As we left the kibbutz, I saw a terrorist holding an 80-year-old family friend in a chokehold. There was smoke everywhere from fires set. Near the border fence with Gaza we were moved into a jeep. As we arrived in Gaza, it seemed everyone was celebrating.
We were kept alone in a darkened room and told to be quiet; we even suppressed sneezes. On the third day of our captivity, we heard on the radio that my younger brother, Roee Munder, had been killed. He had been found on the grass outside the burned shell of his home. For the first 12 days, my mother, my son and I were moved among apartments.
On Oct. 19 we were dressed in hijabs and moved to a hospital. After three days we were joined by four other children and three other adults. We were now five women and five children between the ages of 2 and 85, crammed into a single room. There we remained for the next several weeks.
We had little food or water. We couldn’t clean ourselves. We had five chairs and one mattress; sleep was nearly impossible. We shared one sink; trash cans became toilets. I cared for my traumatized son while also comforting children who had been separated from their parents. Their questions haunted me: “When are we going home?” they asked. “Who will be waiting for us when we come back? Where will we live? Who else was kidnapped and murdered?”
On Nov. 24, as part of a U.S.- and Qatari-brokered temporary cease-fire agreement, my mother, my son and I were delivered back to Israel in the first prisoner exchange. That morning our captors opened the door to our hospital room and told us we would be leaving that day. At first I tucked Ohad’s journal and some of his artwork into the back of my bra; at the last minute I left them behind, fearing we would be searched.
My captivity, which seemed to last an eternity, ended after 48 days. To return physically is one thing. The recovery has not been easy; as time passes it is getting only harder.
Complicating the joy of our return was discovering my father was alive but a hostage. For eight months, I did everything in my power to help save his life.
In August, our worst fears were realized: My father had been killed. We were, perversely, lucky: His body was returned to Israel and we were able to bury him in Nir Oz. We held a ceremony for him and Roee. For many other families, the nightmare continues. Their loved ones are still in Gaza, either alive, suffering in captivity, or dead and denied a dignified burial.
President Biden, throughout this past year you have supported the families of the hostages. You met with us and worked to secure a deal that would end this nightmare. We heard messages from you and the national security adviser, Jake Sullivan, over the radio when we were in Gaza. As you enter your final weeks in office, I stand with the families of all 96 hostages in urging you: Please don’t give up on them.
President-elect Trump: Thank you for speaking up in support of the hostages. Please stand by those powerful words. We implore you to keep fighting for the release of our loved ones, as a top priority during this transition.
Twenty-nine members of kibbutz Nir Oz are still in Gaza. I will continue to fight for them, in memory of my father, Avraham, and my brother Roee. To those still in captivity I say: We will not rest until you are free. The hostages cannot wait a minute longer.
We cannot start to heal until everyone is home.
Keren Munder is an athletics teacher for children with special needs. She lives in Kfar Saba, Israel. This article originally appeared in The New York Times.
