Out of Captivity : Surviving 1,967 Days in the Colombian Jungle

Settling In 123In truth, this argument with Pollo was just one in a series of unsettlingthings that had put me on edge. The FARC kept seven white pigsacross the creek from us. Sometimes they would cross the creek to ourside. Some of the FARC would yell and scream at the pigs to get themback across to their side. We didn’t think much of it, but later we heardthe bloodcurdling sound of a pig screaming. The FARC had apparentlydecided to castrate one of the domesticated pigs, but were botchingthe job or doing it in the most inhumane manner possible. The pig’sscreams went on for forty-five minutes, shattering whatever calm anyof us had managed to find for ourselves.Even worse, a few days before the pig castration, we were in ourboxes when we heard a single gunshot and a woman’s piercingscream. We heard the FARC scrambling around and a whole lot ofcommotion and yelling and sobbing. No one would tell us what hadhappened, but it was clear that someone had been shot. Was it a guerrilla?A hostage from another group? (We’d heard rumors that therewere other camps similar to ours scattered around our zone.) Wereexecutions starting? Had the FARC purposely killed one of their own?In the absence of any information, our thoughts and speculations ranwild.To say the least, my nerves were already frayed when Pollo showedup and refused to give me my medicine. None of us expected the FARCto treat us with kid gloves or hand out special privileges. We simplyasked that they treat us humanely and decently. That was how we weretreating them and we expected that it be returned in kind.KEITHStress does different things to different people. I’d seen it in all kindsof situations on the job, with my family, driving down the street. Tom,Marc, and I all had to choose how we were going to deal with our confinement.I think having to stay f lat on my back in the hooch mademy choice a bit easier and kept the monkey on my back under control.