By The Associated Press
Five hostages of Hamas are free, offering some hope to the families of more than 200 others snatched in southern Israel during the militants’ deadly rampage on Oct. 7.
But the families of those still in captivity have questions, such as why progress has been so slow, why some and not others are being released and whether Israel’s punishing bombardment of the Gaza Strip puts their loved ones in danger.
Israel on Monday announced its first hostage rescue — that of army Pvt. Ori Megidish. Hamas had earlier released Americans Judith Raanan, 59, and her daughter, Natalie, 18. Also let go were Yocheved Lifshitz, 85, along with Nurit Cooper, 79. Their husbands remain in captivity.
Hamas has said it would let the others go in return for thousands of Palestinian prisoners held by Israel, which has dismissed the offer.
Here are stories of some of the more than 200 still held.
Clemence Mtenga and Joshua Mollel
Agriculture is Clemence Felix Mtenga’s love.
The shy, studious Tanzanian skipped his graduation ceremony from Sokoine University of Agriculture near home in the Kilimanjaro region for a year-long internship in Israel. It was his first time out of the country.
“He was so excited to learn and meet new people,” said his sister, Alphoncena Mtenga. “He wanted to start his own agri-business.”
Clemence, 22, and another Tanzanian agriculture intern, 21-year-old Joshua Loitu Mollel, were working on cow farms and living in separate kibbutzim not far from the Gaza Strip when they were taken in the Oct. 7 rampage by Hamas militants.
Clemence had been placed at the kibbutz Nir Oz. Joshua was living at Nahal Oz. They had arrived in Israel in mid-September. Loitu Sindoeni Mollel had last spoken to Joshua, the eldest of his five children, on Oct. 5.
“I told him, you’re in a foreign country, you have to have good behavior so you can succeed,” the father said by phone from his home in Tanzania’s Manyara region. “Now, my other children ask me every day, ‘Where is my brother? Where is my brother?’ But I have no answers.”
Joshua, kind and outgoing, had just graduated from an agriculture college about three hours from Dar es Salaam. Like Clemence, he had never traveled outside of Tanzania. And he, too, had dreams connected to the land. “He wants to be a big farmer,” his father said.
Clemence is the youngest of four siblings in a tight-knit family, his sister said. Socially, he often kept to himself. He attended church every Sunday back home and sang in the choir.
“He has a beautiful voice,” she said. “He dreams of being a very successful person.”
Thirty-six agriculture interns from Tanzania were living near Gaza at the time of the attack, according to the human rights organization Hotline for Refugees and Migrants. The rest have been accounted for.
—Leanne Italie
Bibas family
Ofri Bibas couldn’t bring herself to tell her brother, Yarden, she loved him when his home came under attack, fearing that might signal some kind of irreversible finality, she said.
Yarden Bibas, his wife, Shiri, and their sons, 4-year-old Ariel and 9-month-old Kfir, were snatched from their home in the Nir-Oz Kibbutz during the Oct. 7 Hamas onslaught.
Her brother initially believed the volley of rocket fire was “just another bombing like we’re used to,” said Ofri Bibas, who lives elsewhere in Israel.
But he soon realized it was “something much bigger and much worse,” she said, speaking earlier this month at a rally in support of Israel in Larnaca, Cyprus, that she and other relatives of the hostages attended to raise attention to their loved ones’ plights.
Ofri Bibas said she communicated with her brother in a flurry of texts as the Hamas gunmen roamed around outside his home. She said her brother and his wife did their best to keep their sons quiet.
“Try to imagine keeping a 9-month-old and a 4-year-old kid quiet so the terrorists won’t come in,” she said.
Yarden Bibas told his sister he had a gun in the house, but couldn’t use it to defend his family against so many gunmen armed with automatic rifles.
Then her brother said he loved her. But Ofri Bibas didn’t respond she loved him too. “I just said, ‘Shut up it’s going to be okay, shut up. Just be quiet and follow the security and everything will be all right.'”
Later that night, Yarden sent a final text that the gunmen had entered the family’s home.
Ofri Bibas said she and her family learned that Shiri and the boys were taken by Hamas through a video released by the Islamic militants on social media. Later, Hamas released an image showing her wounded brother held by his throat by a militant holding a hammer in his other hand.
Ofri Bibas said every time she hears children playing, she thinks of her little nephew, Kfir, hungry and afraid.
“They must be terrified. We just ask everyone to help us bring them back home,” she said.
— Menelaos Hadjicostis
Omer Neutra
A small forest of candles melted into the chocolate icing of a birthday cake in New York’s Long Island last week, but the guest of honor wasn’t there.
Omer Neutra, an Israeli soldier, turned 22 seven days after Hamas ‘ attack on Israel on Oct. 7. Israeli officials told his parents that Hamas took Neutra and his unit hostage, Orna and Ronen Neutra said in a telephone interview. They were told he was seen on video footage released by Hamas.
At their home in the U.S. on Oct. 14, the family took a break from doing what they can to secure Omer’s release by celebrating his birthday. They did not blow out the candle flames, because, they said, Omer wasn’t there to do so.
The scene is a glimpse of the difficult limbo in which the Neutras find themselves as they and the families of more than 200 other Israeli hostages — and dozens more people who remain missing — await word on their loved ones’ fates, with hope.
“Omer is tough,” said his dad, Ronen. “We feel that he is well.”
Omer Neutra was born in Manhattan a month after the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks, the son of Israeli-born parents. Also a dual citizen, he attended a conservative Jewish school and “knew all of the statistics of the New York Knicks,” Ronen said.
He lists Omer’s leadership positions as captain of the basketball, soccer and volleyball teams at the Schechter School of Long Island, as well as a regional president of United Synagogue Youth. Omer, Ronen said, was offered admission to the State University of New York at Binghamton — but instead deferred, took a gap year and then moved to Israel to join the army.
The Neutras last spoke to their son on Oct. 6, the night before the incursion, as he patrolled the Gaza border. Omer was looking forward to Shabbat, which on that weekend was also the start of a weeklong celebration of the harvest season in Israel.
“He was tired — motivated but tired — after a few weeks of lots of action on the border,” Ronen said. “He was hoping for a peaceful weekend to relax a little bit.”
— Laurie Kellman
Haran family
For days after the brutal Hamas attack, Shaked Haran sought any clues she could about the fate of her missing parents, sister, little niece and nephew, two aunts, an uncle, a cousin — 10 family members in all, spanning three generations.
There were strong signs that at least some had been taken hostage. Her parents’ house at Kibbutz Be’eri was burned but the shelter was intact and there were no bodies found in it. Phone locations were tracked to Gaza. Haran’s brother-in-law had been seen being put in a Hamas car. And after a friend called the father’s phone more than 100 times, someone finally answered in Arabic and then referred in Hebrew to a hostage situation.
If captivity was a terrible outcome, the alternative would be worse.
But earlier this week, Haran, a 34-year-old attorney who grew up on the kibbutz but now lives in Beersheba, got the devastating news that the body of her father, Avshalom Haran, had been identified — he’d died in the terrible violence at Be’eri. The news came shortly after her uncle, Eviatar Kipnis, had also been confirmed dead.
Now, Haran can only pray her other relatives are alive — and tell the world their stories. They include her mother, Shoshan, a longtime social activist who founded the nonprofit Fair Planet, which works to fight food insecurity in the developing world by helping farmers.
“She’s really dedicated her time to this, trying to get as many people out of the poverty cycle as possible,” Haran said, adding that her family had been committed to peace, with many active in peace organizations, and raised her “to think about the person on the other side of the situation.”
Also missing: Haran’s sister, Adi, a psychologist; her husband Tal and their children Naveh, 8, “a bright, open-hearted boy that makes friends in an instant,” and Yahel, 3, “creative and full of life.” Also believed abducted are Haran’s aunt, Sharon, her 12-year-old daughter, Noam, and another aunt, Lilach Kipnis.
Asked if she has a message on behalf of her family, Haran preferred to speak about all the hostages and victims.
“I love my family, but they’re one small story in this huge catastrophe,” Haran said. “They’d want the message to be that they’re part of the family of the kibbutz – and the family of Israel.”
— Jocelyn Noveck
