I miss my daughters, my Dafna and Ela. They were abducted from Nahal Oz on that fateful Saturday. Pulled from their beds in pajamas and shorts, even without shoes, moments after being separated from their father Noam, his partner Dikla, and her son Tomer. They might have witnessed the moment they were murdered. It's been 45 days and nights since and they are all alone. In a photo I found on Telegram, I saw that Ella had been injured in her hand.
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Days and nights pass quickly, and winter is already here. It's raining. And my daughters are alone. In fear. In uncertainty. In a war zone. They are held captive by the devil who murdered their father. And me? I sit and wait for pieces of information that don't come, worrying about their mental and physical well-being.
I have so many questions: Are they in a heated place in these cold days? Are they eating? What are they drinking? Can they sleep? If so, on the floor or a mattress? Are they together or alone? Are they looking out for each other, or completely separated and unaware of each other's fate? I am in a state of fear combined with horror, in terrible uncertainty. A million thoughts race through my head every passing day.
Today marks World Children's Day. Every parent wonders if their children are getting all their basic rights: food, drink, warmth, a shower, education, love, security, a proper bed, a pleasant environment, and more. As a mother, I don't even know if my daughters are alive.
My daughters should be doing what children their age do: TikTok videos, listening to music on YouTube and going to the movies and ballet classes. Instead, they are in a tunnel, dozens of feet underground.
I appeal to the International Red Cross; I am begging for help: Forty-five days have passed, and you haven't visited my daughters and the other captives. Forty-five days have passed and you have yet to check if they are receiving their rights according to international law. Forty-five days have passed and you haven't checked if the basic needs they require are tended to.
I love my daughters, and I miss them so much. There are days when my heart completely breaks. I don't understand why my daughters are not here yet. How I haven't hugged them yet. How the world sits on the side and does nothing.
If my daughters see this article, I want them to know that I am doing everything I can to bring them home as soon as I can and to make sure they are safe and sound. I won't stop fighting for them until I see them at home.
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