Eli Sharabi’s 491 days as a Hamas hostage: The darkest moments revealed

Many could only imagine the horrors the 53-year-old endured during his 491 days in the hands of terrorists, forced underground into a dark, airless tunnel, and starved and deprived of basic necessities.

What stands out most in the 208-page book are the astonishing details Sharabi manages to recall from his lengthy and terrifying experience. He reconstructs, almost blow by blow, the moments he was marched into Gaza: the dates, the times, the transfers from mosques to family homes, and ultimately into a tunnel. And he describes the relentless abuse – verbal, physical, and psychological – as well as the severe lack of food.

Sharabi also provides vivid portraits of his captors, their cruelty tempered occasionally by rare flashes of humanity, referring to them by the creative nicknames that he and his fellow hostages invented.

“Every minute, every day, every situation we had, I remember it,” he continued, adding that it was almost impossible to forget anything that happened to him.

The key to keeping a clear mind and to storing all the information in his head, even as he cried himself to sleep and suffered through severe hunger, was to maintain a routine for himself and the three other, younger hostages who were held with him – Or Levy, Eliya Cohen, and Alon Ohel.

“It was quite easy because first of all, I insisted of the young guys I was with that we have to wake up every morning and that we have to have a routine,” he said, describing how they would first pray, then workout – if they had the strength – and then talk about their families and friends, tell jokes and laugh together in order “to stay sane.”

Sharabi said that the four of them managed to keep track of the time and days based on the Muslim prayer times their Hamas captors religiously observed and also by asking them surreptitious questions.

“They have five prayers every day and we could hear everything, so we knew when it was the morning prayer,” he noted. “But we also used to ask them many, many questions so we would know what time it was, anything except the obvious question of ‘What time is it now?’”

In the memoir, Sharabi describes how sometimes even harmless questions could result in beatings or reduced food rations.

Sharabi also breaks down the nicknames that he and his fellow hostages gave to each of the Hamas terrorists based on their demeanor and attitude.

“When you live with them 24/7, obviously you have a relationship with them,” he said in the interview.

“It was a very delicate relationship, and sometimes it was confusing because they give you your food, and they decide everything about you – if you have a shower or if you can go to the bathroom or not – so you cannot – and we [the hostages] talked about this all the time – get confused. They were not our friends, and we had to be very, very careful when we were speaking to them.”

In one chapter, Sharabi lays out how each terrorist got his nickname.

“The Triangle is a fifty-something-year-old, strong-looking, tall, and broad mountain of a man. He’s often the one who stops the other captors from losing their shit or acting on sudden bursts of cruelty, and I get the sense that he sees himself as a professional. Whenever he is around, the situation seems under control.

“When the Triangle makes us food, it always comes out tasty. He’s an excellent cook, given the conditions in the tunnels, and compared to the others. So whenever there is food to cook, it’s often his job to serve it up. Our other captors call him ‘the Chef,”’ Sharabi describes.

Other terrorists were given names such as “The Square,” “The Circle,” “Smiley.” and even “Garbage” and “Trash.”

“Trash,” writes Sharabi in the memoir, “gets his name because it becomes blindingly clear, early on, that he’s especially cruel, never missing an opportunity to open his filthy mouth at us or make cutthroat gestures in our direction.”

“Garbage” is described as “especially violent and cruel and takes pleasure in humiliating us – and since “Trash” is already taken – he becomes “Garbage.”

In the interview, as in the memoir, Sharabi explained that the four Israelis worked hard to figure out who was best to approach for simple requests such as asking for a bit more food, and by whom.

“We would say ‘Alon, you’re going to talk with this guy, and I’m going to talk to this one because he likes me more,’” he said. “We analyzed them all the time.”

Asked what surprised him most about those who were holding him, Sharabi said it was hearing them “cry into their pillows at night.”

“They were in a very bad mental situation,” he said.

“The other thing was that they kept their batteries powered so that at 10 p.m. every night they could watch a Turkish soap opera… It was like their escapism from the reality and we were very, very surprised by this,” Sharabi said, adding that “it was funny in a way.”

“These two things really surprised us because when you think about terrorists, you think about somebody bad and vicious and cruel, and then all of a sudden you can hear them crying into their pillows or you listen from the other room as they get all enthusiastic while watching a soap opera,” he said.

But those glimpses of humanity did little to change the way Sharabi now views Gaza and the Palestinians.

“I lived on Kibbutz Be’eri for 35 years, and we used to do a lot of things for our neighbors [the Gazans], such as taking them to hospitals in Israel from the border, giving them food from time to time and, a very, long time ago, they used to work on Be’eri, so we still had a connection with some of them,” said Sharabi, adding, “we really, really, really believed that we must live in peace with our neighbors.”

“But after all the things that happened in Be’eri – and some of the cruel things that happened in Be’eri were not just by Hamas but also by Gaza civilians – everything for me has changed,” he said.

“I didn’t meet any civilians in Gaza that were not involved in some way; so for me, now everybody’s involved, and I cannot see hope,” Sharabi said of the situation two years later.

“In every argument with the terrorists while we were in captivity, or even in regular conversations, they promised they were going to arrive in Israel in 2026 or 2027 or 2028 and, if they see me again in Be’eri, they will slaughter me.”

Sharabi, who speaks fluent Arabic, said he was also shocked by how little those he met during his lengthy captivity knew about Israel or Israelis.

“I was in a family home in the beginning and would talk to the children about life and why they needed to fight for their land all the time instead of focusing on making Gaza a really good place to live, but I realized they really don’t know a lot about Israel or the world – they are really, really brainwashed,” he noted.

As for what he knew about the atrocities committed by Hamas on October 7, or the fate of his own family, Sharabi said he learned the truth upon his release. He emphasized that he still doesn’t know everything that happened in Israel and his community that day.

“When we were there, we didn’t really know what was happening. We knew there was war around us, but we didn’t know what was really happening or if Israel was okay,” he said, adding that he has been exposed to the brutal events of October 7 “bit by bit.”

“I think what I was most overwhelmed with was what the Israeli people did to demand our release and how they help our families – not just the Israelis but the Jewish communities worldwide. It was very, very surprising for me,” Sharabi said. “We [the hostages] were sure that it was just our families and our friends who were standing once a week with our posters and protesting.

“Every place I go now, I find people that lived every moment since October 7 with Israel,” he continued, describing how he can no longer walk down the street in Israel or elsewhere without someone recognizing him, approaching him, and wanting to talk to him.

“I understand it. All those months my face was on posters in their homes, so I try to be available for anyone who wants to talk,” Sharabi said.

Since his release, Sharabi has campaigned relentlessly for the return of the remaining hostages, especially Alon Ohel, who, he said, became be like a son to him.

“We are waiting for Alon. We’re waiting for my brother’s body so his family can have a grave to cry on, and Israel needs it to finish. It’s too much time. It’s really, really sad,” he said.

Reflecting on his own personal loss, Sharabi stated, “I cannot do anything to bring back Lianne or my daughters… and crying all day does not give me anything. I cannot find any meaning in being angry or being sad all day.

“My family fought for me, and my friends fought for me. They stopped their lives for me, so I don’t have the privilege to stay in bed all day and cry,” he concluded. “The grief and the loss will always be a part of me until the day I die, but it will be in spite of life, not instead of life.” ■