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

412 OUT OF CAPTIVITYWe all quickly glanced at one another. This was our chance to getthe letters we’d written to our families out of the country. We were justgoing to have to figure out how to get them in the hands of the commissionwithout the FARC knowing.Enrique continued, “You will be allowed to write letters. Be very carefulwhat you write. If you do anything that gives away our location, Ipromise you this. If you fuck us, we will fuck you.”Enrique’s pupils narrowed to BBs behind his thick glasses. “You understandme? We’re trying to be nice to you. We bring you clothes.Some of you aren’t accepting them. You don’t want those clothes, thenwe’ll have problems.”Marc spoke up. “I’m the one who didn’t accept the clothes. Don’tget on these guys for that. I’m not going to wear them. I’m an American.Let me dress like an American. I’m not a Colombian. I’m not acampesino.”Enrique set his jaw and pursed his lips. “You should be so lucky asto be a campesino and not an imperialist.”He went on for a bit, but we tuned him out. All we could think ofwas the great news. We’d be able to get word out to our families. Overthe years, we’d written so many letters in our heads and on paper; untilnow they’d never had a chance of getting out. This time would be different.It had been nearly five and a half years since I wrote somethingthinking that others would read it. Now all I had to do was press mypen to paper and I could make myself heard.