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

Reunited 335By the end of 2006, we hadn’t managed to recover our losses fromthe highs of early October, but the radios and one another had helpedus to avoid a complete free fall. If we were a barrel of oil, we were atabout forty-eight dollars—not bad but not setting the world on fire,either. None of us was too happy with being on the march again, but asthe year came to a close we did manage to enjoy a few moments—evenif the enjoyment came vicariously. Christmas Day 2006, the FARC letus rest in our temporary camp. They offered us a bit of their homebrewedfruit-based alcohol. The stuff was pretty good, and a few sips tocelebrate the holiday and the relief from the march were welcome. TheFARC partied all day, mostly just playing volleyball and drinking. Thegames got louder as the day went on. We tried to ignore them, and wewere glad to hear them yelling, “¡Pare la bulla!” at one another insteadof telling us to keep it quiet.At one point, one of the young guards who seemed like a decent guywaddled over to take his post. He was clearly shit-faced, and when hesat down on his platform, he could barely keep his head up. His buddieskept coming by to straighten him up, but he’d list to one side or theother, half asleep and fully buzzed. Finally they gave up and draggedhim back over to the volleyball court. I was glad for the distraction andwatched the other guerrillas give him hell. Marc was sitting next to mereading, and Tom was off playing chess. I nudged Marc in the arm.“Merry Christmas, bro.” I pointed to where the FARC were playing.“And Happy New Year, too. That’s Ferney. What is he doing here?”“Look who’s with him.”“And 2.5, too? I guess they’re having their own reunion.”“Maybe what we’ve been hearing is true.” It was a surprise to seesome of the guards we’d left behind at the abandoned hospital after theforty-day march. At one of our camps, some of the military guys hadseen a group of four prisoners off in the distance. We suspected thatthis other group might be the prisoners we’d parted ways with back atthe hospital. Now, as we saw their guard crew mingling with Enrique’s