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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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¿Quién Sabe?61took Keith seriously. We were <strong>in</strong> a vulnerable location, where we couldbe easily spotted from <strong>the</strong> air, but despite that, <strong>the</strong>y set up a tent for <strong>the</strong>three <strong>of</strong> us. We were all shiver<strong>in</strong>g so violently that <strong>the</strong>y built a fire, butwe were too exhausted to even crawl out <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> tent to sit by it.The only reason we woke up <strong>the</strong> next morn<strong>in</strong>g was that Johnnyreturned with an IV fluid drip for Keith. I was a little worried about thisjungle medic jabb<strong>in</strong>g Keith with a needle, but he seemed to know wha<strong>the</strong> was do<strong>in</strong>g, although it strangely took him ano<strong>the</strong>r couple <strong>of</strong> daysto stitch up Tom’s head wound. After an hour or so <strong>of</strong> Keith’s IV treatment,<strong>the</strong> bag was empty and we were on <strong>the</strong> move aga<strong>in</strong> with Keithstill dangl<strong>in</strong>g between two guerrillas <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> hammock.By Tom’s count, we had been on this march for eleven days s<strong>in</strong>ce<strong>the</strong> plane went down. We still had no idea <strong>of</strong> where we were go<strong>in</strong>g orwhe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong>re was a po<strong>in</strong>t to this march o<strong>the</strong>r than gett<strong>in</strong>g us as faraway from <strong>the</strong> <strong>Colombian</strong> Army as possible. Even if we hadn’t beensurviv<strong>in</strong>g on only a few hours <strong>of</strong> sleep, those days would have blurredone <strong>in</strong>to ano<strong>the</strong>r. Our exhaustion was so all-consum<strong>in</strong>g that anytimewe stopped march<strong>in</strong>g, even if it was for just a few m<strong>in</strong>utes, we immediatelyfell asleep. We were all experienc<strong>in</strong>g a k<strong>in</strong>d <strong>of</strong> vertigo; every imageseemed to dance <strong>in</strong> front <strong>of</strong> us with dizzy<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>tensity, as if we wereview<strong>in</strong>g everyth<strong>in</strong>g through troubled water.Though <strong>the</strong> FARC cont<strong>in</strong>ued to provide Keith with IV feed<strong>in</strong>gs,beyond that <strong>the</strong>y didn’t seem to care much about our mental or physicalstate. They pushed us relentlessly dur<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> next two weeks, andas <strong>the</strong>y did, our hopes rose and fell. Their answers to our questionsabout where we were go<strong>in</strong>g or when we would be able to rest rangedfrom “a little while longer” to “pretty soon” to “¿Quién sabe?” or “Whoknows?”This last one became more frequent and more frustrat<strong>in</strong>g as <strong>the</strong>days passed. On what would eventually become a twenty-four daymarch, ¿Quién sabe? was a tool <strong>the</strong> FARC wielded almost as frequentlyas <strong>the</strong> machetes <strong>the</strong>y used to clear <strong>the</strong> jungle, with each tool produc<strong>in</strong>g

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