'I spent 246 days as a Hamas hostage - here is how I stayed sane'

When Almog Meir Jan found himself wrapped in a blanket and driven towards an unknown destination, he was convinced he was about to die. Only hours earlier, he had been dancing with friends at the Nova music festival in southern Israel. Now, surrounded by Hamas militants, he believed his life was over.

Instead, the 246 days that followed would change his life forever. Sitting in a small chair in front of a silent audience at the Nova Exhibition in London, surrounded by screens and cameras, Almog, now 24, spoke about his life as a Hamas hostage. Two years after his release, his voice was soft but confident, echoing the acceptance of his own past.

In the morning of October 7, 2023, like many other Nova festival goers, Almog was ecstatic. "I can tell you, it was a beautiful party. There was amazing music. People were just happy, dancing, smiling." The then 21-year-old Israeli from Or Yehuda was supposed to start a new job just a day after the festival.

But at 6.29am, as the music suddenly stopped, everything changed. Organisers told people to evacuate as Hamas militants launched their attack on the festival.

Almog initially fled in a friend's car, but gunfire quickly forced them to abandon the vehicle and run away while being shot at.

"During my running, I heard the bullets whispering inside my ears. I heard the whistling of the bullets," he said. Soon, he lost sight of his friends. "This was the last time that I saw them. Three of them got killed on that day."

After roughly one mile, Almog hid inside the bushes and sent a message to his mother. "She told me, 'Don't try to be a hero. Just take care of yourself, and I love you.'"

For nearly an hour, he was hiding before hearing voices speaking Arabic nearby. That's when he understood he had two options: either be taken hostage or die. "After 40 minutes, one of the terrorists saw me, grabbed me by my shirt and with a gun to my head told me, 'If you want to live, come with me.'" He got inside their car.

On the road, he could see dozens of dead bodies, burnt cars, and hundreds of Hamas militants celebrating the attack, shooting bullets in the sky. Within minutes of crossing into Gaza, large crowds of civilians surrounded the vehicle, climbing on the roof and applauding his capture. He was told to stay silent to avoid being attacked.

Almog's first destination was a dark basement where he was beaten before losing consciousness. When he woke up, he was chained and interrogated. Soon afterwards, he was wrapped in a blanket and driven away again. "Okay," he thought. "This is how I am going to die."

Instead, he would spend the next eight months moving between several locations in Gaza alongside fellow hostages Shlomi Ziv and Andrey Kozlov, eventually being held in an apartment in the Nuseirat refugee camp, where they would later be rescued.

He spent the very first days of captivity in complete darkness. Blindfolded for five days with his hands tied behind his back, Almog was forbidden from speaking to the other hostages.

"I was five days with two people that I didn't even know how they looked," he told the Express.

Surviving on just half a pita bread each day, they were allowed to use the toilet only once every 24 hours and, at times, were forced to relieve themselves in a basket. Showering consisted of a basket of freezing cold water. To keep his sanity, Almog deliberately disconnected himself from reality. But his thoughts constantly returned to his mother and whether she knew he was still alive.

His mental state was also tested by psychological abuse from his captors, which took different shapes. The hostages were given Arabic names and forbidden from speaking Hebrew. They were pressured to convert to Islam and promised mattresses, showers and better food if they cooperated. "Every time they actually did it, I felt more and more proud to be who I am," Almog spoke of his resistance.

Sometimes their captors deliberately taunted them by bringing plates piled with food before taking them away again, leaving them with only pita bread and olive oil.

On another occasion, Almog woke to find a gun pointed directly at his head. He was told that permission had been given to kill him before pulling the trigger. Moments later, he heard the captor laugh. The gun was unloaded.

One of the men guarding the hostages was Abdallah Aljamal, later identified as the son of a prominent doctor, Ahmed Aljamal. With deep links to Hamas, the Aljamal family was widely respected in Gaza's Nuseirat camp.

Abdallah was a freelance journalist who regularly wrote for The Palestine Chronicle and was a former spokesman for Gaza's Hamas-run labour ministry.

Almog described him as deeply unpredictable. "He had two faces," he said. "You never knew what you were going to get."

One moment, Abdallah would invite the hostages to play cards. Minutes later, he would deny them food, restrict access to the toilet or threaten them. "If one of his family members got killed during the war, all the hate and the violence went to us."

Almog learned to study his moods, his sleeping habits and even whether he had suffered nightmares.

Learning how to survive also meant learning when not to fight back. At first, he challenged his captors during conversations about the war. The punishment that followed left him barely able to stand for days.

"When I managed to stop doing that, it saved my life."

From that point on, he focused entirely on cooperation.

If cleaning was required, he cleaned. If cooking was needed, he cooked.

"I told myself - don't do anything stupid. Be a good boy and let them do whatever they want."

When asked about how he built resilience, Almog said it was a long process. For months, he cried almost every day, replaying October 7 repeatedly and wondering what he could have done differently.

"I ate my mind with negative thoughts," he said.

Eventually, something changed in his perspective. Almog said: "You can't control the outcome of the war. You can't control the outside. You can't control whether a bomb will hit your house. You can't control when the war will finish. The only thing that you can rely on or change is your perspective."

Instead of focusing on everything he had lost, Almog began deliberately practising gratitude. He reminded himself that many people at Nova had been murdered. The bush he had hidden in had not been sprayed with bullets like others nearby. He was not being held underground in a tunnel. And he was not alone.

As hostage negotiations repeatedly stalled, Almog stopped waiting to be rescued. Instead, he convinced himself he would only be released after two years. If freedom came sooner, it would simply be a bonus.

Three months before his rescue, he created a small paper calendar, carefully drawing a box for every day until the imagined date of his release. In the final square, he wrote that he would be home.

Every morning, he crossed off another day while repeating mantras such as "every day is a gift" or "every day in Gaza is a day less in Gaza." Ironically, rescue became something Almog feared almost as much as captivity itself.

His captors repeatedly warned him, "if the army comes to rescue you, we'll kill you", and he believed them. He prayed that any release would happen through a negotiated deal rather than a military rescue. Despite many deals collapsing, he refused to abandon the calendar. After 75 days, one of the other hostages asked why he was still marking the boxes. "This is faith," he said.

The following morning, June 8, 2024, he crossed off another square. Two hours later, Israeli forces stormed the apartment and saved the hostages in an operation that killed 274 Palestinians, according to Gaza's health ministry.

Back in Israel, Almog was reunited with his mother and sister. "It was like I was reborn again," Almog said. When asked about resilience, he mentioned the choice of looking at any situation with "proportion" - the idea that however difficult a situation may seem, there is always a wider perspective - and things can be much worse.

"It's really hard to annoy me now," he said. "I learned how to be patient."

Two hours after his release, Almog's relatives sat him down and told him there was bad news. His father, Yossi Jan, died from an apparent heart attack the night before the rescue. That morning, Almog's aunt had gone to tell him that his son had been freed. When nobody answered the door, she went inside and found him dead.

"I couldn't accept it," Almog said. "The first place that you go after you came back to life is your father's funeral."

The thoughts that had haunted him in captivity returned. Why me? Why did this happen?

Lying in his hospital bed, he forced himself to use the same tools that had helped him survive Gaza.

Yes, his father was gone. But at least he had been able to attend his father's funeral and say goodbye.

Visit the exhibition for yourself.

The Nova Music Festival Exhibition runs until Sunday, July 5, at The Stage in London. Recommended for children age 12+, anyone under 16 should be accompanied by an adult. Click here for more information.