Helping Elkana return to life

Former hostage Elkana Bohbot is asking for support.

I would tell you his story myself, but he has written so beautifully that it is best to hear it directly from him:

For 738 days, the terrorists tried to drive me insane.

Every night, I check that Rivka is breathing and that Re’em is still beside me.

My name is Elkana Bohbot. I’m the husband of Rivka and the father of Re’em.

Even writing these words triggers me.

For hours on end, Hamas forced me,on camera, to say sentences that sound simple, yet became the nightmare of my life.

For two years, I lived in absolute darkness deep inside the tunnels, holding on to one ritual that kept me alive: closing my eyes and recreating the feeling of my son Re’em’s tiny hand inside mine.

I imagined his touch, his smell, the softness of his hand. It was the only oxygen I had down there.

While the terrorists screamed and me that I had no one to return to, I clung to that memory so I wouldn’t lose my mind.

I used to be “the life of the party” - the guy with the spark in his eyes and the smile that never faded.

On October 7th, that spark went out in the Nova’s parking lot. I was part of the production team, and when the massacre began, running wasn’t an option.

I stayed to help, to evacuate the wounded, to save lives.

Inside the fire and chaos, I saw sights that still haunt me. After trying to save my brothers and sisters who only came to dance, I was kidnapped into Gaza.

I endured two years of hell.

For 738 days, I didn’t see daylight.

I was held underground, beaten, starved, humiliated.

But the physical pain was nothing compared to the psychological terror. They enjoyed breaking my spirit.

Every morning, they whispered me quietly that I’d believe them:

“Your mother is dead.”

“A missile hit your home. Re'em was killed.”

“No one is looking for you, Elkana. They forgot you.”

I found myself crying, screaming to God, every day as my heart burned.

I imagined Re’em, only three when I was taken, telling me: “Daddy, I love you.”

I feared the memory would fade…

that he no longer remembered who “Daddy” was.

By the grace of God, the miracle happened.

And thanks to the people of Israel who never gave up on me,

I am now back with my wife and my son.

But my nightmare isn’t over.

At night, with one hand stroking Re’em’s head and the other gripping Rivka so we don’t get separated, I realize:

I left the tunnels, but the tunnels haven’t left me.

When I returned, Re’em recognized me, and it was the happiest moment of my life.

But the reality I came home to was a battlefield of its own.

Our family is wounded.

Re’em, now five, carries trauma no child should know.

He suffers from severe separation anxiety - he won’t release my hand for even a moment, terrified I’ll disappear underground again.

Rivka - my warrior, who fought for me for two years, is exhausted.

And my mother… while I was in captivity, cancer struck her.

I look in the mirror and see a shadow of myself.

Every sound makes me jump.

I used to be a hardworking man, waking early each morning, heading to the market to provide for my family.

Today, I can’t work. I can’t drive. I can’t be alone.

And the guilt… it crushes me.

Guilt for the friends who came to Nova because of me and never returned.

Guilt for the pain my wife and son endured.

Guilt about my mother’s illness.

Everyone tells me it’s not my fault, but the voices from the tunnel still echo.

After everything we’ve been through, I’m terrified for our future.

We have a long journey ahead.

I know we’re facing years of therapy to restore the broken pieces of our family.

I dream of giving Re’em and Rivka stability - a quiet home, the ability to live with dignity, without constantly worrying about how we’ll pay rent or cover the debts that piled up while I fought for my life.

I am ashamed to ask for help, but I have no choice.

I’m doing this for them.

The terrorists didn’t manage to kill me in captivity, and I won’t let despair kill me now that I’m home.

I cannot function the way I once did.

After two years spent not knowing if I would live or die, all I want is to close my eyes without fear,

to feel a few moments of peace that will give me the strength to rebuild my life.

Please, be our partners on this journey.

Help me be the father and husband they deserve.

They deserve quiet after two years of nightmare.

Help us return to life.

Help us feel like a family again."

Please consider giving generously to Elkana and his family.

Show him how much we love and support him!!

Help Elkana return to life