Former Israeli hostage Eliya Cohen, his fiancé and Oct. 7 survivor Ziv Abud shared their experiences during an event hosted by Chabad. (Bri Nitsberg | Managing Photo Editor)

Around 300 students packed Graham Chapel this past Tuesday to listen to stories of horror, heartbreak, and resilience from former Israeli hostage Eliya Cohen and his fiance and Nova Music Festival-survivor, Ziv Abud. Their accounts detailed the strength it took to endure unimaginable loss and trauma while also highlighting the importance of honoring the courage of others. 

This speaker event was organized by student leaders on the Chabad Board; Chabad Jewish Agency for Israel Fellow, Hodaya Butz; and members of Student Union Treasury. The discussion was moderated by senior Ilan Barnea alongside Butz and marked the first time a surviving hostage has visited campus to share their story. 

“The 1,200 individuals killed and 254 taken hostage during the massacre might seem like a lot. …  Each one is an individual story and an individual face. If we were to have every person who has a story from Oct. 7 talk, we probably never would have left Graham Chapel in the first place,” Barnea said. 

The event’s large turnout, with 300 students taking a moment to step away from the fast-paced demands of school and life in the last week of classes to bear witness to Cohen and Abud’s testimony, sparked praise from Chabad Rabbi Hershey Novack.

“It was a tough week. … Tonight, I was particularly inspired by the large number of people who came. I spoke to one student who came for the opening 10 minutes and then went to the chem exam, and I thought that was particularly heroic,” Novack said. 

Cohen was 26 years old when he was kidnapped from the Tribe of Nova Music Festival in Southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023. That day, Hamas breached the border into Israeli territory, killing over 1,200 people, over 800 of whom were civilians, and taking an additional 254 hostages, among them 12 Americans. 

When Cohen and Abud first heard the gunshots and saw havoc breaking out, they retreated to a nearby bomb shelter, which has now become known as the “Bunker of Death,” as 49 people were crammed into this small space intended for just 10. 

Hamas militants quickly realized that Israelis were hiding out and began throwing grenades and firing hundreds of rounds of ammunition at the shelter, which was designed to only withstand missile attacks. Because of Cohen’s heroic actions in shielding Abud and himself with the already deceased bodies around them, she was one of only seven people who were not kidnapped or killed in the shelter that day. 

“For me, it was a very scary moment. I don’t remember too much. I lost consciousness again and again,” Abud said. 

Hamas militants noticed that Cohen was still alive, kidnapping and dragging him into the Gaza Strip while livestreaming the entire abduction and posting it on GazaNow. This video and similar ones were later seen by millions worldwide. Once in Gaza, Cohen was held in a residential area. 

“When I first arrived [in Gaza], the civilian people beat us, cursed us, and threw rocks at us,” Cohen said. “The house was a regular civilian house. Outside, there were children playing in the garden,” Cohen said.  

After two months, Cohen was taken to a mosque, a sacred space intended for religious prayer, that contained an entrance to the web of Hamas’s extensive underground tunnel network. Cohen was held here for the next 14 and a half months in a tunnel 100 meters below ground, measuring 2.6 feet wide by 6 feet tall. 

In a room within the network of tunnels, Cohen met other Israeli hostages taken on Oct. 7 also held by Hamas. One was Israeli-American Hersh Goldberg-Polin, whose mother, Rachel Goldberg-Polin, has served as a leading voice in the American movement to free those captured by the militants.

Cohen and Goldberg-Polin quickly developed a close relationship, exchanging stories and doing anything to pass the time. Weeks after their initial meeting in the tunnels, Goldberg-Polin was notified by Hamas that he was slated to be released. Cohen learned later that Hamas had lied to Goldberg-Polin and had actually transferred him to a new location, ultimately killing him in August of 2024. Nonetheless, it was time for the two to say goodbye. 

“Before he left, Hersh gave me a book in English, and he told me, ‘Eliya, keep it. I don’t know how much time you will be here, but keep it. It will keep you strong.’ I told Hersh, ‘Bro, I don’t know how to read English. I know nothing,’” Cohen said. “I didn’t know how to speak any English before this, but look at me now.” 

Cohen studied the English book Goldberg-Polin left with him every day and taught himself English during his time in captivity. 

Despite the sense of renewed comfort he felt reuniting with other Israelis, Cohen described the continued presence of Hamas’ cruelty. 

“I heard something in the background, and I asked the other people, ‘What is that? It sounds like chains.’ They asked me if I had been chained yet. I said no. They told me ‘Don’t worry, just wait.’ Then the terrorist came in and started tying us together with chains and big locks. From that day on, I was tied by my legs for 505 days.”

In addition, Cohen faced prolonged starvation and other inhumane conditions. 

“In this tunnel, there was no light, no food, no water. We lay on the floor all the time, and they just gave us one can of food each day for four people. After some days, they told us they won’t give us food anymore. We had to lick the walls of the tunnels just to feel a drop of water, just to survive,” Cohen said.

After enduring 505 days of horror, Cohen was released in a deal on Feb. 22, 2025 that saw 33 Israeli hostages exchanged for over 2,000 Palestinian prisoners. The reunion with his family was filled with overwhelming joy, and that happiness grew exponentially when he learned Abud was still alive and had spent the last year and a half fiercely advocating to secure his release.

“My mom said [Abud] survived 505 days like this. She looked out for you. She went everywhere. I told her without a photo, I’m not going to believe you. She takes out her phone, opens Instagram, and shows me a picture of Ziv fighting for me. I started to cry, I couldn’t believe [that she was alive],” Cohen said. 

Junior and Chabad Co-President Matthew Isaacs was particularly touched by how Cohen and  Abud grappled with the separation and uncertainty of each other’s conditions. 

“They didn’t know each other’s fate for 505 days, and Eliya didn’t know whether he was going to make it out alive, and yet, he was able to power through that. So it kind of puts things in perspective for me,” Isaacs said. 

This shift in outlook was shared by others in the audience, like senior and Hillel Board President, Charlie Weingarten.

“My main takeaway was the same thing that I took away from listening to [former hostage] Eli  Sharabi speak at the St. Louis Jewish Community Center [JCC], which was the strength and the hope that these people have after everything that they have been through. They are still here, and they are still sharing their story,” Weingarten said. 

Chained down within the cramped tunnel corridors, imagining a light at the end of the tunnel is what kept Cohen strong. 

“We really wanted to keep our hope going during captivity. We started looking for even the smallest good things that were happening to us. If one of the terrorists that we hated didn’t come and shout at us or if we got an extra spoon of [food], that was a good thing,” Cohen said. “If you are looking for a good thing, you will find it.”

Seeking to find the positives even in the darkest of places, Cohen’s perseverance and story reminded the 300 in attendance of the importance of supporting one another through hardship. 

The event concluded just as it began, with Abud honoring the over 1,000 lives that were cut short on Oct. 7. She reminded the audience of the voices that were silenced and the stories that have been left unfinished.

“Now, whenever I am with somebody, I love to say that I want just one more minute to talk with them. Just one more minute, because so many people didn’t come back home that night, and I don’t have any more minutes to talk with them,” Abud said.