The New York Times
Even Silence Has an End: My Six Years of Captivity in the Colombian Jungleby Ingrid Betancourt
A Bolt of Lightning tore through the forest, landing a few yards from me. In a burst of light, the space around me was revealed in all its horror. I was surrounded by gigantic trees, and was only two steps from falling into a ravine. I stopped short, totally blinded. I squatted to catch my breath among the roots of the tree just before me. I was on the verge of… See more details below
A Bolt of Lightning tore through the forest, landing a few yards from me. In a burst of light, the space around me was revealed in all its horror. I was surrounded by gigantic trees, and was only two steps from falling into a ravine. I stopped short, totally blinded. I squatted to catch my breath among the roots of the tree just before me. I was on the verge of finally taking out my flashlight when I noticed intermittent flashes of light in the distance, headed my way. I could hear their voices now. They must be very near, because I heard one of them shout that he had already seen me. I camouflaged myself among the roots of the old tree while praying to the Lord to make me invisible.
I followed their progress from the swinging of their beams of light. One of them aimed his beam at me. I closed my eyes, unmoving, waiting for their shouts of victory before they seized me. But the light left me, came back for an instant, then went away for good, leaving me in silence and darkness.
I got up, still trembling, leaning against the hundred-year-old-tree to recover my wits. ... From memory, I cleared a path where I thought I'd seen a passage between two trees while I waited for the next flash of lightning to free me from my blindness. The guerrillas were gone.
My relationship with the night world began to change. It was easier to move ahead, my hands reacted faster, and my body was learning to anticipate the lay of the land. The sensation of horror was beginning to fade. My surroundings were no longer totally hostile. I began to think of these trees, these palms, these ferns, this intrusive undergrowth as a possible refuge. The fact of being soaked, bleeding from my hands and fingers, covered with mud and not knowing where to go-all of this lost its importance. I could survive. I had to walk, keep moving, get away. At dawn they would resume the chase. But with every step, I kept repeating I am free, and my voice kept me company.
The New York Times
The New York Times Book Review
- Penguin Publishing Group
- Publication date:
- Product dimensions:
- 6.40(w) x 9.20(h) x 1.30(d)
- Age Range:
- 18 Years
Meet the Author
Born December 25, 1961, in Bogotá, Colombia, Ingrid Betancourt was a politician and presidential candidate celebrated for her determination to combat widespread corruption. In 2002 she was taken hostage by the FARC, a brutal terrorist guerrilla organization. For more than six and a half years, the FARC held her hostage in the Colombian jungle. She was rescued on July 2, 2008.
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