Clara Merman stood before a crowd at a rally in Kfar Saba, greeted with warm embraces and tearful gratitude. At her side were her partner, Luis Har, and her brother, Fernando Merman, who were rescued from Hamas captivity after 129 days in a military operation named “Golden Hand.” Their appearance at the rally, held in Spanish for Israel’s Latin American community, drew dozens who stopped to thank and support them.
Merman, 65, was among the hostages taken during Hamas’ cross-border assault on southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023. She was abducted from her home in Nir Yitzhak along with Har, Fernando, her sister Gabriela, and 17-year-old niece Mia. She and the other women were released in a hostage deal the following November, leaving the men behind. Har and Fernando were freed months later.
“The life after captivity hasn’t returned to normal. I’m trying to rebuild it,” Merman said. “I was in hell for 53 days. Now it’s been 600 days. It’s a crazy number. It’s hard to understand. Our hostages are still there, suffering in tunnels, and their families are going through the unimaginable.”
Merman now devotes her time to advocating for the release of the remaining hostages and supporting their families.
“I’m all in. It’s the life Luis and I live now,” she said. “We try to support the devastated families who are being tormented every day. They see us as a sign of hope, that their loved ones might come back too.”
Since her release, Merman has dealt with what she calls “survivor’s guilt,” an emotional weight she says never quite lifts.
“I know it’s not my fault that I was freed, but the heaviness is always there. I still don’t understand how so many miracles happened—how we were held together and all managed to get out.”
Merman described harrowing conditions during captivity, including psychological abuse and fear for their lives. She, Har, Fernando, Gabriela, and Mia were guarded by five armed Hamas terrorists.
“We were terrified during the airstrikes. We huddled together in the middle of the room so flying debris wouldn’t hit us. We whispered stories, tried to focus on words, anything to escape the noise and chaos. Mia would ask about our lives in Israel—how and why we came. Those moments helped us survive. Having our dog Bella with us also helped. Caring for her gave us something to focus on.”
Merman recounted how their captors tried to demoralize them by claiming no one in Israel was trying to rescue them and that the Israeli government would bomb the building to eliminate hostages.
“They told us we were forgotten, that the economy was collapsing, that we were just pawns. They repeated it over and over,” she said. “They even bragged that 1,400 people had been killed on the first day. We didn’t believe it—it sounded impossible. But when you hear something constantly, it starts to chip away at you.”
Since her release, Merman has not returned to a permanent home. Nir Yitzhak, the kibbutz where she lived, is just three kilometers from the Gaza Strip and remains on high alert due to ongoing fighting.
“I long to go home, but how can I? The war in Gaza is intense and the noise is unbearable,” she said. “I go there for a few hours during the day, try to reconnect with the house, and return to Kibbutz Urim or the north with my daughters. I’m wandering. I haven’t truly returned to life.”
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Her family, too, is still recovering. Merman said none of their children have been able to return to work since the abductions. “Each one got involved in their own way in the struggle to bring us and the other hostages back.”
Har processes the trauma by sharing their story publicly. Fernando, more reserved, supports the cause quietly and has returned to work. He speaks about his experience selectively, mostly in forums connected to Israel’s security forces.
“He’s deeply grateful to those who rescued him,” Merman said.
Asked whether true recovery is possible, Merman paused.
“I don’t know. Right now, it’s not happening. We’re trying to live, but nothing is the same,” she said. “I can’t let go of the need to fight for the return of every hostage. As long as there are people still in Gaza, I’m still there too. My light is the hope that everyone comes home. Only then can we begin real healing—not just us, but the whole country.”