To reach the unrecognized Bedouin village of Karkur, where Farhan Alkadi lives, visitors must pass the Dudaim waste site, navigate a bumpy asphalt road and continue on a dirt path until they reach the village.
To find the tent where Alkadi has been receiving guests from all over Israel since his rescue from a Hamas tunnel in Rafah, one must cross the village to a spot marked by an Israeli flag. Near the flag, Alkadi's family set up the guest tent, adorned with small yellow flags and a picture of the kidnapped father and son, Yousef and Hamza al-Ziadna, hangs at the entrance. Alkadi, 52, sits in the tent, welcoming visitors—both Arabs and Jews. One of them greeted him, saying, "Congratulations on escaping Gaza."
"I hope every family receives the embrace I did from the people of Israel and that everyone gets to return to the embrace of their parents," Alkadi told Ynet. "Family is family, pain is pain. I want to thank the people of Israel for embracing me and the IDF soldiers who risked their lives to rescue me and continue to do so now. We're drinking coffee here while they’re risking their lives. I invited the prime minister, Abu Yair, to come here, first of all, to bring the people home [the hostages]. Every minute they’re there is too long."
Throughout the conversation, Alkadi repeatedly mentioned the hostages still in Gaza. "When I first met the IDF soldiers, I told them, 'Check if there are any other Israelis here,'" he recalled. "I've returned to my family, but I don't feel whole because I know there are still people suffering as I did. They're starting to take my picture off the list of hostages, and I hope we can do the same for everyone else. People are suffering there. It’s not worth it."
'No distinction between Jews and Bedouins'
On the morning of October 7, Alkadi, a father of 11, was at work as a guard at a packing house in the moshav of Yesha near the Gaza border. He heard the sirens and took shelter, thinking it was a routine event that would quickly pass.
"Then I saw Al-Qassam fighters, and they started shooting at me," he recounted. "They shot me in the leg, tied me up and took me. People need to remember that Bedouins were also killed. They made no distinction between Bedouins and Jews. When a missile hits Segev Shalom or Be'er Sheva, it doesn’t differentiate. We live together, and no one will change that."
He spent the early days of captivity with Aryeh Zalmanovich, an 86-year-old abducted from Kibbutz Nir Oz, who later died in captivity. "Zalman passed away by my side," Alkadi said. "We spent a month and a half together in a room, talking about what he wanted to do after we were freed. I told his son Boaz that on the day he died, he managed to say goodbye to everyone. I got close to him, and he said goodbye to the kibbutz, his friends and his granddaughter, whom he loved. He died at midnight."
When asked how they passed the time together, Alkadi said, "He told me about his home in the kibbutz, and we planned that I’d visit him when we were released. He was worried that his belongings had been burned at the kibbutz. From October 7 onward, we were like family, and suddenly you lose that. You’re alone in captivity. Instead of tears, I had his stories. In the months after he died, I had nothing to do, but I didn’t let myself sink into despair because there was always hope for tomorrow. Maybe there’d be a deal. There was always that thought in the back of my mind—maybe tomorrow? Maybe in a week? Two weeks? A month?"
Grateful for the IDF's rescue
Alkadi also shared his experience of being rescued by IDF soldiers. "They gave me sunglasses, water and a hug. Each one of them hugged me. They told me to call my family, but I asked them to wait. I only called when I was on my way to Soroka [Medical Center]."
It seems like you’re receiving support from everyone here.
"Families from Eilat came here just to hug me. I welcomed them and asked them a small question: How did you find me? How? I struggle to find my way here myself. Even patients in hospitals sent me letters and gifts—people who can’t leave their beds sent them because I couldn’t visit them. At Soroka, they gave me a farewell, and everyone was in tears. It was very emotional. No one can break this unity. Israel is a mother to us all. We’re all one big family. In the army, Bedouins, Druze and Jews fight together."
Still 107 movies to go
A Jewish coworker visiting the tent told Alkadi he feels like he’s in a movie he can’t yet process. Alkadi replied, "There are still 107 movies to go." He strives to stay optimistic about the future. "I’m not angry because anger and dwelling on bad things are pointless. Eleven months in captivity—if I had been angry, it would have taken me to a dark place."
Did you hear about the protests for the hostages' release?
"No. I was disconnected. If I had known, it would have been easier. I worried about my family, but the State of Israel embraced them from the first moment and took care of them. They brought my kids a bomb shelter, and the Defense Ministry didn’t leave them for a second. If I had known that, I would have been more at ease in captivity."
"As a Bedouin, I can’t imagine living in a country without Jews. We’re always together, and I hope it stays that way. My eldest son is 24. Where does he live? Who does he work and hang out with? I have a friend from Moshav Patish, and our sons were born the same week. They met and worked together at the same factory, and we didn’t even know it. They’re continuing the circle of friendship."
"When I was released, I asked to call a friend from a Gaza border town whom I was worried about. Eleven months, day after day, hour after hour, I thought about him. He was with his family in Ofakim, and he’s okay. I felt complete. But another friend from one of the moshavim was killed. They found him in his car with his friends. They all went through October 7."