From near-death in Gaza to a $100 million exit: Itamar Ben Hemo’s extraordinary journey
From near-death in Gaza to a $100 million exit: Itamar Ben Hemo’s extraordinary journey
Injured in war, recovering in hospital, and mourning a friend’s loss, Rivery's CEO led his company to a transformative acquisition. "On January 8th, I was on the verge of death. By the end of December, I reached an incredible peak. After I signed the deal, I turned to my wife and said, ‘This is crazy. We were millimeters away from you being a widow marking a year at my grave, and instead, we made an exit.’"
Saturday, October 7, 2023: "I heard TV news anchor Danny Kushmaru talking to a girl. She whispered that her father had been kidnapped. I went to the warehouse and took out my uniform after six years of not touching it."
Monday, January 8, 2024: "I'm lying in a helicopter after being shot, and I hear someone asking, 'Where to?' Another voice responds: 'Seven minutes to Barzilai Hospital—they won't survive longer than that.'"
Thursday, July 4, 2024: "At noon, I get a call: 'I don’t know how to tell you this.' Itay Galea, one of the company’s employees who was working late the night before to wrap things up before heading to the reserves, was killed by a Hezbollah rocket."
Wednesday, December 18, 2024: "I told my wife, 'This is insane. We were a millimeter away from you being a widow marking a year at my grave, and instead, we made an exit.'"
This is what the past 15 months have looked like for Itamar Ben Hemo (49): a flight from New York to Israel to spend the holidays with family, a national disaster, volunteering as a paratroopers' major in the reserves and entering Gaza, a serious injury, a prolonged rehabilitation, the loss of a friend and colleague, and an exhilarating business deal in which he sold his company, Rivery, to Boomi for $100 million. The journey has been deeply personal, professional, and national. Now, just moments after the exit, Ben Hemo reflects candidly on the disasters, successes, and interconnected missions that have shaped his life.
From Be’er Sheva to New York
"I was born in Be’er Sheva. My father, David, originally from Morocco, was a firefighter, and my mother, Ruthie, born in Iraq, worked at the Ministry of Education. She was on her way to earning a doctorate in literature, even though she hadn’t finished high school. When I was 11, she died of cancer at the age of 37. My dad always said, 'She would have become the director general of the Ministry of Education, but everything was cut short.'
"He was left with four children—aged 18, 14, 11, and one-and-a-half. He kept working and relied on my grandmother, who lived nearby, to help us manage. I have this image of Dad holding my baby sister in one hand and washing dishes with the other. That’s how he was. Even when Mom was alive, he cooked and encouraged her to study, and she treated him with immense love and appreciation.
"No matter which world-renowned CEO I meet, my father will always be my role model. When he heard about our exit, he cried and went to the cemetery to tell Mom, 'Thank you.'"
Ben Hemo studied physics in high school and served as an officer in the 101st Paratroopers Battalion during his military service in the security zone in Lebanon. "I lost friends and faced a lot of pressure to stay in the army, but I decided to leave. I had a younger sister at home, and I wanted to be with my family."
After his discharge, he studied information systems engineering at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev and began his career in the data field, working at Gilon Business Insight and 888, an online gambling company. "After two years there, in 2007, I co-founded Vision.BI (a database engineering company) with partners. I managed the company, and we quickly gained significant customers. In 2020, it was sold for tens of millions of dollars. Around the same time, I helped establish Rivery."
Rivery, co-founded with Aviv Noy and Alon Reznik, offers companies a platform to manage, build, and automate data. "From all sources—billing, finance, marketing—our system collects the data in no time, providing businesses with analysis models and integration between all sources. We deliver the processed information they need."
In 2017, Ben Hemo, his wife Porat, and their four children (then aged 14 to 1) moved to New Jersey for work in New York. "Our eldest later returned to Israel to enlist in the IDF as a lone soldier. She wanted to become an officer, and we promised her that if she did, we’d return to Israel. But I couldn’t, not with the business. Rivery was growing rapidly—half of the employees were American, and most of the customers were in the U.S. So, in 2022, my wife and kids returned to Israel, and we agreed that I’d stay in New York for all of 2023. The family would visit during the summer, and I’d come to Israel for the holidays."
War: When Everyone Who Can, Goes
During the 2023 Jewish holidays, Itamar Ben Hemo was in Israel. "On October 7th, at 7 a.m., my wife woke me up, saying, 'Something crazy is happening.' I listened to the news and realized that a war had started. Each of us felt, in that moment, as if our own house was being breached. My father told me, 'Itamar, look, 20 people are dead.' I responded, 'Dad, it’s going to be at least hundreds.'"
Did you know right away you’d enlist?
"I did many years of reserve duty in Gaza, mostly on the fence. During Operation Cast Lead, I was a brigade commander. I know the area and the situation well. When I heard TV news anchor Danny Kushmaru talking to a girl who whispered that her father had been kidnapped, I went straight to the warehouse and took out my uniform, which I hadn’t touched in six years. My wife asked, 'What are you doing?' I told her, 'Everyone who knows how to fight must go.'"
So you went down south, and then?
"We arrived at around 1 p.m. The Reconnaissance Battalion went down to help in the kibbutzim, and they told me, 'The commander is abroad; set up the control room.' We gathered people from the battalion and went to war. At first, we operated in Jenin and Nablus. Then we entered Gaza. Our role was to create a defense line for our soldiers, supply and evacuate casualties, and inspect the tunnels in the sector. Our dream was to reach the hostages.
"We operated around the Netzarim corridor, between population centers, engaging in daily clashes. There were hundreds of casualties in our brigade."
Weren’t you afraid?
"I didn’t even think about the possibility of getting hurt. I’m an optimistic person, but we experienced some difficult incidents. Guys got hit by a bomb just half a minute after I’d passed, and that’s when you start to realize—it could happen to you."
Injury: This Is What the End Looks Like
It happened on January 8. "We got a call about a soldier who was slightly injured, and we set out with two Hummers to extract him. Driving along Gaza’s central axis, one side was secured by our forces, while the other side bordered Zeitoun—a tough neighborhood the IDF hadn’t yet cleared. Suddenly, terrorists fired an RPG at the unit we were joining. There was a massive explosion.
"We tried to understand what was happening and join forces. The sergeant major and I moved forward, and in one of the alleys, I was hit by an AK-47 bullet just below the heart. It passed through my body and lodged in my vest at the back. A 7.62 mm bullet makes a big hole."
Later, Ben Hemo would learn the bullet caused severe damage to his diaphragm, spleen, kidney, and colon. His spine was nearly affected. "At that moment, I was losing a lot of blood, and everything was burning like crazy. The fire continued, and I saw my sergeant major advancing before taking five bullets himself (he has since recovered).
"One of the soldiers I recruited at the start of the war, Zion Gidoni, saved me. Zion is the brother of Liel, who was killed in Operation Protective Edge in the same battle where Hadar Goldin fell. I didn’t want to bring Zion into Gaza—he’s a bereaved brother, and I know the family. But he came anyway. He and another soldier, Yossi, pulled me out of the fire, moved me behind a wall, and saved my life.
"We’d been conducting rescues daily, so everyone was skilled. They took me to an airstrip we’d set up in the heart of Gaza, loaded me onto a helicopter, and gave me blood transfusions."
What do you remember from those moments?
"I heard someone in the helicopter ask, 'Where to?' Another voice answered, 'Seven minutes to Barzilai Hospital—they won’t survive longer than that.'"
Did you think it was the end?
"They say you enter a tunnel. Suddenly, I felt this incredible suction, chills, silence, and peace. My family flashed before my eyes like a movie. I saw my wife, and then my children—Omer, Amit, Eilon, and Yonatan, one after the other. Then I woke up, still in the field, and decided I wouldn’t fall asleep again.
"I told myself, 'I won’t fall asleep!' I thought about it like a startup: the first thing you have to do as an entrepreneur is survive. That’s what a startup is—survival, survival, survival, exit. I told myself, 'I’m like my startup now. I need to survive, no matter what.' So I stayed awake."
Ben Hemo stayed awake all the way to the hospital. "They took me for a CT scan and prepped me for surgery. Someone handed me a phone and asked, 'What number should we call?' I couldn’t remember my wife’s new cell phone number, but I remembered my father’s—it hasn’t changed in 30 years.
"I called him, took a deep breath, and said, 'I’ve been injured. I’m at Barzilai, heading into surgery. Come here.' My father, calm as always, reassured the nurse who was crying, saying, 'He sounds fine; it must just be a scratch.' That’s also what he told my wife. So when the doctors later said I was in 'difficult but stable condition,' she was stunned. 'How can that be?' she asked. 'We thought he only suffered minor injuries.'"
3 View gallery
Itamar Ben Hemo (center) alongside Rivery co-founders Aviv Noy and Alon Reznik.
(Photo: Courtesy)
Rehabilitation: Work lifted me up
Itamar Ben Hemo was hospitalized until the end of March. Throughout his recovery, he was surrounded by relatives, friends, colleagues, and members of his community. "When I was undergoing surgery in Barzilai, Avi Eyal from Entrée Capital was sitting with my family. When they brought me to Tel Hashomer and took me out of the ambulance, Nir Adler from State of Mind Ventures was already there waiting for me—both of them were our first investors. The community in Modi'in, where my family lives, helped us immensely.
People from every chapter of my life came together: friends from the army, reserves, elementary school, and high school—all relationships that had been on the back burner were reignited. I reconnected with people I hadn’t spoken to in 20 years. It gave me a lot of strength. The support from my family and all these people made me want to get back to life."
Work was also pivotal. By this point, Ben Hemo’s startup had about 80 employees and 450 clients. "I knew my survival and my startup’s survival were interconnected, and I had to manage both challenges simultaneously."
What does that mean?
"From the moment I woke up, I was on WhatsApp and Slack. After two and a half weeks, I was already holding board meetings in the rehabilitation department. Slowly, I returned to the office for a few hours at a time, and after three months, I was working full-time. It was scary at first—it started with ‘fake it till you make it’—but I knew I had to get back as quickly as possible. That gave me a significant mental leap forward."
Why did you feel it was urgent? They would have managed without you for a few more weeks or months.
"You’re afraid that if you let go, everything will collapse. At this stage of the company, the CEO is everything. When that role suddenly disappears, gaps arise, no matter how hard everyone else tries.
"You open WhatsApp or Slack and see difficulties emerging. Some employees lose confidence. One of the team leaders visited me in the hospital with cookies and said, ‘Rivery is a good company; don’t give up on it.’ I asked, ‘Why would you say that?’ He replied, ‘If you don’t come back...’ I told him he had nothing to worry about.
"At the end of the day, what does a startup have? Only belief in the impossible. If people stop believing, you feel it slipping through your fingers. You’re terrified of losing everything. This affects the employees, including managers abroad who didn’t fully understand what was happening here, and it affects the investors, too. In the first week after my injury, they already had a ready-made excuse: ‘Guys, what can we do? The CEO is dead.’"
Although Ben Hemo admits he was "very lucky," he resists the word "miracle." "You can’t call everything that happens a miracle," he says. He also avoids attributing his survival to divine intervention. "When my daughter suggested we start keeping Shabbat, I told her I wasn’t ready for them to make commitments on my behalf."
He has since returned to playing soccer and continues the psychological therapy that began during his rehabilitation. "In the hospital, I had recurring dreams about what happened. I’d wake up from them. Today, as a CEO and entrepreneur, I wake up with different worries, but I’m still in therapy. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. War is a difficult thing. You see people get hurt, you see people die—you witness scenes no one should have to see. Therapy is important."
He is also committed to helping others rehabilitate. "The Ministry of Defense does sacred work with victims, but as high-tech executives, we also have a responsibility to help victims rebuild their lives through work. Work is what helped me the most. These are young people, often in their 20s—they have another 50 years of work ahead of them. We must help bring them back into the workforce, which is a central part of life."
You’re actually on both sides of this story.
"Yes, I represent both groups. I’m an example of how important it is to get back to life, and I’m also a voice for others who have been injured and are undergoing rehabilitation. You can fall into a black hole, but we, as high-tech professionals, have an obligation to absorb them, help them, and do everything possible for them. It’s crucial to give them this opportunity."
Itay: A feeling of suffocation
Ben Hemo knew Itay Galea from his previous company, Vision.BI, years ago. "He was part of the team that later founded Rivery, but he left before we officially started. In November, I met him by chance at the entrance to Gaza. I told him, ‘Come join us. Rivery is taking off, but it won’t be complete without you. When this war is over, you’re coming. What role do you want?’"
Major Galea finished his reserve duty in April and joined Rivery in May as a specialist developer. "He got right to work. Two months later, on July 3, I saw him in the office late at night. I asked, ‘Is there a critical bug?’ He said, ‘No. I was called up to reserves in the north, and I need to finish a few things here.’ I hugged him and said, ‘There’s nobody in the world like you.’"
That was their last meeting. "The next afternoon, I got a call from his sister-in-law, who also works at the company. She said, ‘I don’t know how to tell you this—Itay was killed.’"
What went through your mind at that moment?
"I didn’t fully comprehend it until I hung up. Even then, I acted like a machine. I informed the HR manager, the founding team, and his former colleagues at Vision.BI. Within 15 minutes, we called an urgent company meeting to update everyone. As the CEO, you’re the one who delivers the news, creating this suffocating atmosphere for everyone. Only after that did the reality hit me. The funeral was incredibly difficult. I paid my respects and shared our story."
Galea, 38, left behind a pregnant wife and two children. "After the funeral, the founders discussed it, and with the board’s approval, we doubled Itay’s shares in the company for his wife and children. Later, Boomi, the company that acquired us, added tens of thousands of dollars to the family as well."
How did that come about?
"During the acquisition process, Boomi’s CEO, Steve Lucas, asked me, ‘How are you? How are the employees? We’re following the news and thinking of you. I hope none of your team was hurt.’ I told him, ‘Steve, I’m going to say something that might kill the deal: There’s no one in Israel who hasn’t been hurt, murdered, or kidnapped.’ Then I told him about Itay.
"Steve immediately decided on the grant. His response made me realize that this deal wasn’t just the right professional move for Rivery—it was also a reflection of shared values. I told Steve, ‘This deal will close no matter what—because of what you just did.’"
Why was that so important?
"Because I understood their culture aligns with my values. When a company buys an Israeli startup—this was their first non-American acquisition—they need to understand what it means to be Israeli. They saw that we’re building something great here, that Israeli high-tech is resilient even in the toughest situations.
"In times like this, when being an Israeli company isn’t something you broadcast loudly, you wonder if foreign companies will be deterred. Will they hesitate when they hear an employee was killed or the CEO was injured? These people don’t live through what we do here in Israel. The question becomes: How much of our reality should we reveal?
"But I chose to share, and when I saw their response to what happened to Itay, I knew they genuinely identified with our challenges and pain."
Exit: Restoration for the market too
The exit came about five years after Rivery was founded, following approximately $48 million raised across three funding rounds. By this time, the company had established itself with a diverse client base, including SodaStream, Papaya Global, Lego, NBC, and Universal. "The emphasis on data makes companies more successful, and we’ve built data organization systems for hundreds of organizations, including most tech companies in Israel, helping them succeed. It’s a constantly growing market. Data integration is a $30 billion industry today—and our product is so user-friendly that you can learn how to use it within half a day."
Boomi, the American company that acquired Rivery, specializes in integrating various business systems within companies. According to Ben Hemo, "We’re completing something unique for them. Entering our field was a strategic goal for them, and we can now serve the 23,000 customers they already have."
When did the deal take shape?
"They approached us at the end of August. After some initial discussions, we received a first offer in early October, followed by negotiations and due diligence. Once things started moving, it all happened very quickly."
Why sell rather than continue growing independently?
"In a deal like this, I bypass four or five stages of growth that would have been necessary to scale on our own. This acquisition allows us to jump straight into the massive U.S. market."
How excited were you about this exit, especially at this time?
"I’ve sold a company before with Vision.BI, so the financial aspect of this exit wasn’t my main focus. What excites me more is the opportunity it creates for our employees, the organization, and the company as a whole.
"Our investors saw a good return, we achieved success, and the merger will be incredible. But the bigger picture here matters more—it’s not the largest exit in Israeli history, but it’s significant because an American company is entering the Israeli market during wartime.
"This acquisition highlights the resilience of Israeli tech. Our job now is to help restore the resources that have been sorely lacking over the past year and a half. It’s a sign of hope for entrepreneurs, a step toward bringing back foreign investors, and a signal to American companies that they can trust the Israeli market again.
"An American company entering the Israeli market during a war could be a sign of the return of confidence in local high-tech. But on a personal note, as someone who stands in Hostage Square every Saturday night, I can’t truly celebrate this exit until the hostages come home. That’s what this country needs most. Only then can it truly recover."
You also personally close a year that began with an injury and ended with a sale.
"On January 8th, I was on the verge of death. By the end of December, I reached an incredible peak. Most of the time, I don’t think about it, because I’m immersed in the work. When you’re in the moment, you don’t reflect on ‘how I started the year and how I ended it.’
"But after I signed the deal, I turned to my wife and said, ‘This is crazy. We were millimeters away from you being a widow marking a year at my grave, and instead, we made an exit.’"
