By Ingrid Betancourt
"Betancourt's riveting account...is an unforgettable epic of ethical braveness and human endurance." -Los Angeles Times
In the midst of her crusade for the Colombian presidency in 2002, Ingrid Betancourt traveled right into a military-controlled area, the place she used to be kidnapped by way of the FARC, a brutal terrorist guerrilla association in clash with the govt. She may spend the following six and a part years captive within the depths of the Colombian jungle. Even Silence Has an End is her deeply relocating and private account of that point. The evidence of her tale are unbelievable, however it is Betancourt's indomitable spirit that drives this very specified narrative-an intensely clever, considerate, and compassionate mirrored image on what it rather capacity to be human.
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Additional resources for Even Silence Has an End: My Six Years of Captivity in the Colombian Jungle
The water is scalding, slightly tolerable. Steam is all over. i will take water in my mouth and permit it run slowly, warmly, down my face and neck. nobody is disgusted by way of it; there are not any sidelong glances. there is not any longer somebody judging me. i'm not available. I flip the tap. i would like the water to run chilly now. My physique doesn’t draw back. it's been informed by way of too many lengthy years of freezing water. Seven years in the past this day, Papa died. i'm unfastened, and that i weep. From sorrow and happiness, from bitterness and gratitude, too. i've got develop into a posh being. i will be able to now not think only one emotion at a time. i'm torn among contrary feelings that inhabit me and shake me. i'm my very own grasp now, yet i'm small and fragile, humbled via strength of condition, and all too conscious of my vulnerability and inconsequence. My solitude relaxes me. i will settle for my inconsistencies with out caring approximately other folks. with no need to conceal and with out the load of somebody who mocks, barks, bites. Seven years in the past, in this very day, I observed the guerrillas assemble jointly in a circle. They checked out me from a distance and talked between themselves. We had settled in a brand new camp. the gang had grown in quantity. Betty was once joined by way of different ladies: Patricia, the nurse, and Alexandra, a truly beautiful lady with whom all of the boys in love. Ten days sooner than that, there have been a caution that the chulos have been at the river. We have been at the run. We walked for days. i used to be unwell the whole trip. Patricia and Betty stayed within reach to assist. the line used to be large sufficient for two-way site visitors and associated the financial institution of 1 river to the mouth of one other, miles away. during this labyrinth of rivers that make up the Amazon, the guerrillas had equipped a community of roads that they saved mystery. They knew precisely how you can use a GPS and automated maps to discover their method. At one element we needed to pass a brand new river. I couldn’t see how we have been going to do it. It used to be lower than a month considering I’d been captured. I had a couple of small issues the guerrillas have been sporting in a bag of provisions that I observed switch fingers in the course of the trip. It have been set down at the riverbank, as though the bearer had had adequate. i used to be approximately to take it while the women driven me approximately into the scrub. I misplaced my stability and located myself at the flooring. “¡Cuidado, carajo! Es los angeles marrana. ” thirteen “¿La marrana? ” i used to be awaiting to be charged at any second by way of a rabid pig, and that i attempted to wake up as speedy as attainable. however the ladies held me down by means of the shoulders, expanding my panic. “¡Arriba, mire arriba! ¡Allá está l. a. marrana! ” 14 I appeared as much as the place one of many women used to be pointing. Above our heads, via a wide starting within the bushes and excessive within the transparent sky, used to be the miniature pass of a white plane. “¡Ésos son los chulos! Así es cómo nos miran para después ‘borrbardiarnos. ’”15 She mispronounced the verb for “bombard” as borrbardiar, like a toddler who had now not but realized to speak thoroughly. additionally they used “look” rather than “see. ” I smiled. might the aircraft manage to spot us from this kind of distance?