Agam Goldstein Almog

Freed November 26, 2023

Agam Goldstein Almog's account of her 51-day captivity in Gaza is a chilling testimony to the horrors of war and abduction. At just 17 years old, Agam not only witnessed the brutal murder of her father, Nadav, by Hamas terrorists but also her sister, Yam, who was shot in the face. Agam vividly recalls the moment of her father's murder, saying, "My father was shot immediately as he stood by the safe room, clutching my sister's bed board. He screamed 'No no no' as we, huddled in a corner, were forcibly taken, stepping over his body without a chance to say goodbye."

Throughout her captivity, Agam lived under the constant shadow of death, encapsulating her fear with the words, "You live death. You don't know when it will catch you and what it will look like, whether it will happen through torture or if they just shoot you or from the air force bombings." This statement reflects the pervasive uncertainty and fear that dominated her existence during those dark days.

Agam and her family were subjected to frequent relocations, from houses to tunnels, increasing their sense of disorientation and despair. In these grim settings, Agam encountered other young women who had suffered unimaginably, bearing both physical and psychological scars from severe sexual assaults and untreated injuries. She reflects on their plight, saying, "It was in the tunnels that I met other young women. Most of them were just a year or so older than my 17 years. Some still had bloody gunshot wounds that had been left untreated in makeshift bandages. One had a dismembered limb."

"I heard from them accounts of terrifying and grotesque sexual abuse, often at gunpoint. They told me that when they were sad and cried, their captors took advantage of their helplessness even more, stroking and caressing them, and then shoving and grabbing intimate parts of their bodies."

"They were treated like playthings."

My mother, Chen, hugged them. They told us they hadn’t heard the word Ima (Mom) in so long. They ached for their mothers. My mom later told me that she felt like they all were her daughters, having just lost one of her daughters herself. " These words highlight the collective suffering and makeshift attempts at healing among the captives.

The emotional toll of her experience is further captured in Agam's description of the support they provided each other, "I was in a dark and damp tunnel deep underground when, in hushed voices, I heard the stories from the young women. Not stories so much as bits and pieces of living nightmares." This statement illustrates the fragmented and haunting nature of the experiences shared among the captives, forming a tapestry of shared trauma.

Upon her release, Agam's reflections on her family's ordeal and the loss of her father and sister are poignant, "My family was destroyed by that evil. A murdered father, a murdered sister, 51 days in the hands of terrorists—those are not things you know how to cope with when you’re 17 years old."