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

352 OUT OF CAPTIVITYI detected something wistful in her tone, like there was more thatshe wanted to say but was afraid to.“But?” I asked.Ingrid looked at me and I watched as her pupils narrowed. I felt atwitch in my stomach; it was the same feeling I’d felt in school whena teacher asked me a question and was waiting for my response. I feltlike I was being evaluated in some way.“I wish that I had gone with him. I wish that I was out of here.”I was struck by the simple honesty of her words and the way theymirrored my own feelings. We all liked Jhon and marveled at what he’ddone, but there was a bittersweet quality to knowing that he was freeand we weren’t. Call it envy, call it reality, but I said to Ingrid, “I wish ithad been me, too.”“It’s hard to keep believing that my time will come.”I decided that she’d opened the door to the subject, so I asked, “Is ithard being outside all the time?”She looked up into the night sky and said, “No rain.” She laughedsoftly. “I know what you mean, and yes, it isn’t easy being the outcast,particularly when you’ve not done much to deserve that status.”“Do you mean because both of you tried to escape and Lucho’s notkept from everyone else?”“In part, yes. But because I am the only woman here, the FARC useit to their advantage.”I wasn’t sure exactly what she meant. I hesitated before asking, “Doyou mean they’re worried about another Clara? Another baby?”“Not so much that. It is difficult to explain.”I heard some of the enthusiasm in her voice drain. I’d tried to putmyself in Ingrid’s position a couple of times, but her comments aboutbeing a woman made me realize that I could only go so far in understandingwhat captivity was like for her.“Do you miss being with the other women? Having someone to talkto who could understand.”