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

182 OUT OF CAPTIVITYOf course, I wasn’t thinking about it in those terms at the time.Instead I was thinking about how on the boat ride to the political camp,Tom had been taking a break from doing a lot of translating. It seemedto me that he spent a lot of his time talking to Sombra and the twoof them were sharing some laughs. I didn’t like that. I didn’t want tosocialize and be a buddy with Sombra, and I didn’t want Tom to, either.He wasn’t doing anything but being Tom—a gregarious kind of guy—but his approach to things was different from mine. The FARC was ourenemy and we used the guards to gain an advantage, nothing more.Tom hadn’t crossed any lines or done anything he shouldn’t have, butepisodes like the boat ride made language an easy target for my angerand frustration. I hated having to rely on him to do one of the mostfundamental things that makes us human—communicate with others.It was as if I had a broken leg and had to have someone bring me myfood. I was still hurting and wondering about the fate of the twins.My resentment only got worse the longer we were at Camp Caribe.I saw how Tom was interacting with the Colombians. He was doingnothing but being himself and enjoying their company, but as with hisjokes with Sombra on the boat, it worried me. Sombra’s warning to usabout Ingrid may have been a ploy, but based on what I had witnessedin my brief interactions with her, I didn’t need him to tell me that shewas a snake. I’d seen what some people might call her charm and hercharisma, but I’d also seen how she’d gone from pissed-off bitch towelcoming hostess in the span of just a couple of minutes. I knew shewasn’t crazy; she was smart. She was a politician. I sensed that she sawno advantage in continuing to openly confront us. When the decisioncame down that we were staying in that part of the camp no matterwhat she said or how much she whined, she had to switch gears. Thewoman was shrewd.On top of my suspicions about Ingrid, I knew that in dealing withpeople in captivity, whether it was the guards or the politicals, knowledgewas currency, knowledge was power. Having to constantly ask