"Do you want to see what a dead person looks like?" the little girl asked as she played outside. She then lay on the ground and demonstrated. A single moment of innocent play turned into a painful reminder of the trauma she endured during the 52 days she was held captive by Hamas in Gaza.
In November 2023, as part of the first hostage deal, 37 children who were abducted on the morning of October 7 returned home. According to a recent Health Ministry report, they returned thin, frightened and bearing physical and psychological signs of abuse. On average, they lost 10% of their body weight, with one case reaching 18%. But the deepest scars are those that are unseen.
Lior Lixenberg and Ruti Suliman, national civic service volunteers with the Aminadav organization, are there to listen, process and help the children rebuild their lives. Through their work with the Lending a Hand Foundation, they guide the children step by step in their complex journey toward recovery.
"Everyone carries something from their time in captivity," Lior says. "For each child, it manifests differently. For some, the post-trauma only emerges now, a while after their return."
From the oncology ward to captivity
Lior and Ruti plunged into deep waters. They’re only 19, in their second year of national service. During their first year, they accompanied children with cancer hospitalized in oncology wards, but nothing could have prepared them for their encounter with the children who survived captivity.
The cultural differences, they say, added to the challenge — they’re religious, while most of the children are secular, born and raised in kibbutzim. Yet, sometimes, the differences forge the strongest connections.
"At first, it was unimaginable," Lior recalls of the initial meetings. "We heard the stories about the war, the abductions, and captivity and suddenly we saw these children in front of us. Now, we’re like their friends. They share everything with us."
How is supporting children who survived captivity different from supporting children with cancer?
Lior: "When you enter an oncology ward, you can see the illness and pain on the patients — the symptoms of the disease are visible. With children who survived captivity, it’s often hard to tell that something is wrong at first. Only when you delve deeper — into their homes, their private spaces — do you truly uncover their pain, their sense of loss and the trauma they’ve endured."
‘Looking into their eyes, even in the hardest moments’
Their role might sound simple: playing with the children, helping with homework and spending time with them. But beneath this simplicity lies an entire world of responsibility. They've become like big sisters — figures who aren’t children but aren’t too much older either, people the children can trust and feel safe with.
What qualities does it take to fulfill your role?
Lior: "You need a high level of empathy, listening skills, patience and stability."
Ruti: "Emotional intelligence is crucial — to know how to respond to every situation, to look into their eyes even in the hardest moments. You have to think twice before reacting and act thoughtfully."
The children’s daily lives are a constant journey between moments of light and sudden darkness — between innocent play in the yard and memories that surface unexpectedly, between healthy laughter and an empty gaze that suddenly appears. Lior and Ruti navigate these emotional shifts, guiding the children step by step back to life.
How does a typical day with the children look?
"Our meetings are usually in the afternoon or evening, when the children aren’t in school," Lior explains. "Each session lasts about four hours. Sometimes, we leave the house with them; other times, we stay in. There are families we visit weekly and others less frequently, depending on their needs."
The children and their families’ new reality is like an invisible minefield, with triggers hidden around every corner — Arabic subtitles on TV, a passing car or even a meal at a restaurant. Any of these can instantly bring the children back to their moments of terror in captivity.
"We’re learning to recognize the triggers," Ruti shares, "and we know how to help them cope. Sometimes, just being there for them is enough."
At first glance, they look like any other children — playing, laughing, fighting over toys. But beneath the surface lies a deep trauma that sometimes emerges at the most unexpected moments.
"When you meet the children, they seem normal and typical," Lior shares. "Only when they start talking and opening up do you realize their sense of loss and see the depth of their trauma.
“Once, I went to the park with a little girl and she came across a sign about the hostages. She stopped to kiss her father's picture. She only knows her father through the photos she sees. It was very painful to see."
Small victories
For the children’s families, their presence is a ray of light amid the darkness. Many families lost loved ones in the October 7 massacre. Some fathers remain in captivity, while others have parents or family members who were abducted and later released or who survived the massacre but lost other relatives.
Amid this complex reality, with additional children in the family and parents facing their own trauma, the volunteers are a constant they can hold onto.
"They’re so grateful for the help we provide their children," Ruti says. "Even amid their overwhelming challenges, they always find time to say thank you. You can feel how much they appreciate us. Families with relatives still in captivity even take time to express their gratitude. They open their doors to us which is no small thing."
Amid this enormous challenge, Ruti and Lior look for small victories. Sometimes it’s a smile that wasn’t there yesterday, other times it’s a game that lasts a little longer than usual. One story that left a mark on them is of a boy who returned from captivity.
"He was withdrawn at first, afraid to leave the house," Lior recalls. "When we first visited him, he was shocked that we came just for him. Now, he eagerly awaits our visits. It might seem like a small change, but it’s everything for us."
The fact that hostages remain in Gaza makes recovery even harder. "It rattles everyone," says Ruti. "Some of them still have family members in captivity so they can’t fully heal. But we see the small victories — a child who smiles more, a teenager who dares to step outside, a family starting to talk about the future. That gives us hope."
5 View gallery
Lior and Ruti with Emily Hand (center) and Hila Rotem (bottom)
(Photo: Shavim LaHaiom project)
The work with children who survived captivity is an enormous emotional challenge, even for the young volunteers. They hear harrowing stories, witness deep pain and sometimes the line between caregiver and patient blurs. "It affects us deeply," Ruti admits, "but not during the meetings. Sometimes, it all surfaces afterward. We live with this 24/7, but we don’t let it in during the sessions."
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The young women themselves receive regular psychological support. They share an apartment with two other national service volunteers who also work with children who survived captivity, which may be their greatest source of strength. "We have to take care of ourselves to keep helping," Ruti says. "Living together helps us hold on. We understand each other without words."
In a few months, their service will end, but the children’s journey back to life is far from over. "A few days ago, a mother told us, ‘We’re able to keep going because of you,’" Lior shares. "These words give us the strength to keep going, even when it’s hard."