Tag: Thomas Hand

Humanizing hostages’ plight

Rabbi Jonathan Infeld, left, in conversation with Thomas Hand at Congregation Beth Israel. (Adele Lewin Photography)

Emily Hand was a healthy 8-year-old girl with chubby cheeks on Oct. 7, 2023, when she was abducted by Hamas terrorists from a sleepover at a friend’s home on Kibbutz Be’eri. When she was released, 50 days later, she was a pale, gaunt 9-year-old who would not speak above the faintest whisper.

Emily and her dad, Thomas Hand, were in Vancouver this month, where the father was part of Congregation Beth Israel’s Selichot program Sept. 28. He spoke with the Independent in advance of the conversation he had with Rabbi Jonathan Infeld at the synagogue.

On Oct. 7 last year, Emily was at the home of her friend Hila Rotem-Shoshani. After the terrorists invaded the kibbutz and the murderous rampage subsided, Thomas Hand had no idea where his daughter was. It was almost midnight that evening when the Israel Defence Forces made it to Be’eri and rescued the survivors. In the chaos of the moment, Hand was told that his daughter was dead.

His immediate response was relief.

“It’s a terrible thing to say,” said Hand, “but I was more relieved and at peace that she was at peace and not being terrorized or beaten or threatened or in the hands of the Hamas.”

Eventually, it would become known that, of Be’eri’s approximately 1,100 residents, about 100 were murdered and about 50 taken hostage to Gaza. Be’eri’s surviving residents were removed to a location near the Dead Sea.

After a few days, Hand was informed that there was no evidence that Emily had been murdered. Her remains were not found and neither was any of her DNA. Hand has no explanation for how the misunderstanding occurred. His former wife, however, was found dead. (Emily’s mother died of cancer when Emily was 2.)

Now, Emily was officially missing. 

A kibbutz member mentioned to Hand that they had seen Raaya Rotem “and her two children” led away at gunpoint. Hand knew that Rotem has only one daughter – Emily’s friend Hila – and that was his confirmation that Emily had been abducted alive.

“When they told me that she was actually alive, I was in the nightmare of not knowing what the hell was going to happen to her,” he said.

It is now known that Emily, Hila and Raaya were taken to Gaza, moved from location to location for the first couple of days and then held in a house along with several other hostages.

They lived in constant terror and were given very little food – a quarter of a pita a day sometimes, though they could smell the plentiful food their captors were cooking. Their accommodations were squalid, they were watched while using the toilet and warned to remain totally silent.

Doing what he could to raise global awareness of his daughter’s situation, as well as those of the other hostages, Hand launched a campaign, beginning with a trip to Ireland. Hand had made aliyah from Ireland and Emily, as a result, is a dual citizen. Hand then traveled to the United States and appeared on American TV, further humanizing the plight of the hostages and their families.

In November last year, during the temporary ceasefire, Emily was one of 105 hostages freed. She was released along with Hila. Hila’s mother Raaya was released a couple of days later.

Hand has no clear memories of their reunion, except that he would not allow himself to believe it would happen until they locked eyes. 

“Anything could go wrong,” he said of the temporary ceasefire negotiations and promised release of the hostages. “Not until the very last second did I really believe that she was coming back, only when I saw her eyes.”

The joy of reunion was mixed with the harsh reality of what she had endured. 

“She came back a different child,” Hand said, reflecting on her transformation from an innocent 8-year-old to a much-matured child shaped by trauma. The changes were most immediately noticeable physically. “Her cheekbones were sharp, her body much thinner.”

The effects of being threatened for more than two months to remain silent did not dissipate immediately either.

“When she came back, she was whispering, just moving her lips,” he said. “Her confidence was shattered.”

Since Emily’s release, the Hands – she has an older brother, 29, and a sister, 27 – have been working to help her recover. Therapies, including horse riding, dog training, theatre and singing, have played a crucial role in rebuilding her confidence. Regular psychological support in Tel Aviv, despite being a two-hour drive, has also been essential. 

“She’s very strong, very resilient,” said her father. 

The Hand family has relocated to a semi-permanent residence near Be’er Sheva while they await the reconstruction of Be’eri, to which he is determined to return. 

“It’s been my home for over 30 years. I raised my eldest kids and Emily there,” he said. “It’s paradise. I want to go back home.”

Not all kibbutz members feel the pull to return, he acknowledged, though he estimates that 75% of the surviving members hope to rebuild there. Security, of course, is the foremost concern.

“The government needs to be different, and Hamas needs to be as weak as we can possibly make them because I need to feel safe in my own home before I would ever bring Emily back there again,” he said.

Reflecting on the international response to the crisis, Hand expressed frustration.

“Why is the UN or all the governments in the world not putting the pressure on Hamas to stop?” he asked.

To critics of Israel’s actions in Gaza, he is defiant. “We have to defend ourselves, and we will defend ourselves,” he said, “no matter what the world says or thinks.”

As Emily continues her recovery, Hand remains focused on a mission.

“Our primary concern now is getting the hostages back,” he said. 

Kibbutz residents returning

The medical centre at Kibbutz Be’eri, where at least five people were murdered Oct. 7, 2023. (photo by Melanie Preston)

I’m sitting in the dining hall at Kibbutz Be’eri, as people begin to enter for their Sunday lunch at 11:39 a.m. Sunday is like Monday here in Israel, the work week being Sunday through Thursday.

I’d never spent time on a kibbutz until now, except for a few days on my Birthright trip, which was my introduction to Israel. But now, I’m not only on a kibbutz, but on Kibbutz Be’eri, less than five kilometres away from Gaza, less than a year after the worst terror attack on Israeli soil.

On Oct. 12, 2023, in the Times of Israel article “Be’eri’s residents are gone, but their homes attest to the horrors they endured,” there was this incredible statement by Doron Spielman from the Israel Defence Forces’ Spokesperson’s Unit: “In the same way that Auschwitz is the symbol of the Holocaust, Be’eri is going to become the symbol of the [Oct. 7] massacre. The level of inhumanity of Hamas fighters surprised even us, Israelis who had no illusions about what Hamas is.”

And, yet, here I am, bearing witness as approximately 200 kibbutz members of the 1,100 total, have returned to live here. This does not include any children, due to the war next door in Gaza, and, of course, the traumatic memories of Oct. 7. 

The majority of Be’eri’s residents have just been moved from the Dead Sea-area hotels that housed them for the past year to Kibbutz Hatzerim, 45 minutes away from Be’eri, a wonderful community who rushed to build a new section of homes to accommodate them. This is where the families with children are now settling in and where school has just begun.

But there are many residents, couples with grown children, or singles without children, who have chosen to return to Be’eri. At first, they only commuted here to work during the week, but they are now choosing to stay full-time. They are determined to be back at home, to establish new routines, care for the grounds, hang out at the local pub and prove to the world and to the enemies who tried to destroy them and their spirit that they have done anything but that. The spirit in Be’eri is hurting, yes, but it is also fierce, and it will not be extinguished.

Last week, Israel’s Channel 12 aired a new documentary showing the horror that took place here on Black Saturday. It included footage from cameras all over the kibbutz, and the camera they kept returning to was right outside the dining hall in which I am writing right now.

How different it was to watch this documentary, how odd to watch the silent camera footage, how chilling, when I knew the reality on Oct. 7 was sirens blaring the entire day, due to thousands of rockets overhead, and screams from those being attacked all over Be’eri, in neighbouring communities and all over the nearby desert and forests, as young adults ran to try and escape the Nova music festival, many meeting a violent death.

I watched the tick, tick, tick of the digital clock in the corner of the TV screen on this documentary as Hamas terrorists methodically made their way through offices and the kibbutz’s medical centre, where at least five workers were massacred, and homes and children’s rooms, trapping people together and smoking and burning people to death, shooting them if they attempted escape, like Narkis Hand was forced to do when an RPG hit her home, setting it instantly on fire.

Narkis Hand was Thomas Hand’s former wife and the mother of his older children, Natali and Aiden. Thomas Hand’s younger daughter, Emily, then age 8, was kidnapped by Hamas terrorists with her friend Hila and Hila’s mother Raaya for 50 days, though he was originally told she had been killed.

The first and only time I had been to Be’eri before now was last February, when I visited with a different resident, Adam Rapoport, whose older brother Yonatan was murdered at some point between “6:29 a.m. and the end of day,” noted the documentary, as the silent clock in the upper left-hand corner went tick, tick, tick on Oct. 7.

photo - Adam Rapoport by the Dead Sea
Adam Rapoport by the Dead Sea. (photo by Melanie Preston)

Like many others from these communities, Adam will never know exactly what happened to his brother that day, other than that he saved his kids’ lives by ordering them under the bed, where they would spend 11 hours listening to the horrors taking place in the peaceful community they’d grown up in. Six-year-old Aluma and 9-year-old Yosef would later tell their uncles that Dad had said he was going out to get the terrorists money at the ATM.

“There were just too many … bodies … to learn what happened, and that was just at Be’eri,” Adam told me back in February, at the Dead Sea hotel where he and other evacuees were staying, the day before he brought me here to bear witness.

This was an invasion into homes that lasted an entire day and involved such gore that I hesitate to go into detail.

It involved shooting a 3-month-old baby in the head, in front of her mother, in Kibbutz Be’eri, and burning an entire family alive from neighbouring Kibbutz Nir Oz, including all three young children.

It involved murdering parents in front of their children and then kidnapping the children – and these sons and daughters have still not returned home. Some are confirmed dead in Gaza and are bodies waiting to be brought back, like Adam’s best friend Itay Svirsky, which was how I initially met Adam and began learning about this community, while others are likely still alive in captivity, starving and suffering in ways human beings should not be permitted to suffer. But the Red Cross has done nothing for the hostages since the very beginning. 

In Israel, we have waited, prayed, hoped and fought. We have gone to weekly rallies in Tel Aviv and Kiryat Gat, saying the hostages’ names and counting the days, chanting “Achshav, achshav, achshav.” (“Now, now, now.”) 

We have had to silence our phones, as constant notifications appear, notifying us of the nonstop rockets entering our airspace and our cities from Hezbollah in Lebanon, the Houthis in Yemen and other groups in Iraq and Syria, while ongoing predictions about whether Iran will or won’t do something big (and when they will or won’t do it) are discussed and analyzed.

But, since arriving on Kibbutz Be’eri last month, I have felt a shift.

It’s a unique kind of optimism I have never quite seen. It’s pride and it’s love and it’s strength and it’s resolve and it’s “F—- you, we’re not leaving.” It’s coming from returning Kibbutz Be’eri members, it’s coming from people like myself who have come to Be’eri since Oct. 7 to help with the land and to work, to add to the life being rebuilt here and to help heal the collective broken heart of this community.

I fell in love with Israel because I fell in love with its people. I am here in Israel to tell the stories of what happened on Oct. 7, 2023, and is still happening, at every moment of every day for these incredible people, these people of Kibbutz Be’eri and elsewhere, who have come back to their lives and are attempting “normality” on their beautiful land. 

Melanie Preston is a Canadian-born, American-raised, Jewish writer and traveler who discovered Israel at the age of 26, immigrated to the country and stayed for seven years. She flew to Israel alone on Nov. 16, 2023, from her home in Charlotte, NC, and was there to March of this year. She returned to Israel last month to continue writing about the hostages and impacts of October 7th on Israeli society. She intends to spend more time with the survivors of Kibbutz Be’eri as it is rebuilt. To support her work and read more of it, go to melanie-preston.com, or visit her GoFundMe (Raising Awareness on Israel’s War).