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

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

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

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Broken Bones and Broken Bonds209loud as she could to her absent child. For every day <strong>of</strong> those first fewweeks after Emanuel was taken from her, it seemed like Clara was on<strong>the</strong> edge <strong>of</strong> emotional collapse. None <strong>of</strong> us knew how to behave at thosetimes—not just toward Clara, but toward one ano<strong>the</strong>r. After <strong>the</strong> failure<strong>of</strong> our hunger strike, we felt hopeless and <strong>in</strong>capable <strong>of</strong> do<strong>in</strong>g anyth<strong>in</strong>gfor her. Never one <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> stronger people <strong>in</strong> camp, Clara grew weakerand weaker, and it seemed to us that she was hang<strong>in</strong>g on to <strong>the</strong> raggededge <strong>of</strong> our little society. See<strong>in</strong>g her <strong>in</strong> agony raised specters <strong>of</strong> our ownissues <strong>of</strong> anxiety and loss.The pa<strong>in</strong> <strong>of</strong> separation from our kids was one that <strong>the</strong> three <strong>of</strong> usknew all too well, but we couldn’t imag<strong>in</strong>e what it was like for Clara toknow that her newborn child was just a few yards away. Over <strong>the</strong> course<strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> next four months, <strong>the</strong> FARC would not relent and Clara and herson were essentially kept apart. We watched to see how <strong>the</strong> boy’s armwould mend, but we were all concerned that a more important bondhad been broken.TOMWhile Clara’s situation united all ten <strong>of</strong> us on certa<strong>in</strong> fronts, it didn’tstop fissures from form<strong>in</strong>g for all sorts <strong>of</strong> reasons. As <strong>the</strong> monthsrolled by at Caribe, we found that one <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> most frequent sources <strong>of</strong>contention was food. If <strong>the</strong>re was one th<strong>in</strong>g you could always count onto sow conf lict <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> group, it was food. Because <strong>the</strong> FARC had limitedsupplies most <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> time, food had always been an issue for us—evenbefore we arrived at Caribe. On <strong>the</strong> occasions when <strong>the</strong>re was enoughto eat, it wasn’t particularly tasty, and compared to <strong>the</strong> FARC, we wereprobably picky eaters. We knew better than <strong>the</strong>y did that food didn’thave to be just rice and beans and <strong>the</strong> worst cuts <strong>of</strong> meat imag<strong>in</strong>able.When we came to <strong>the</strong> political camp, our concerns about foodshifted. It wasn’t just that we had to deal with <strong>the</strong> quality <strong>of</strong> food, wehad to deal with ano<strong>the</strong>r issue—competition for food. At first, we’dtried to be courteous and set an example, go<strong>in</strong>g to <strong>the</strong> end <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> l<strong>in</strong>e at

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