Consuelo GonzalezHere is a translation of an article (25/03/2008) taken from the official website agirpouringrid.com:
Extracts of letters brought back by Consuelo Gonzalez
On the 29th of January 2008, the French newspaper Libération published the hostages’ letters brought back by Consuelo Gonzalez at the time of her liberation and made public by a number of the families. These first-hand accounts allow us to better understand the conditions of the hostages’ detention, their disarray and both their physical and moral suffering. You shall also find, at the end of these letters, an account by Clara Rojas who was set-free – along with Consuelo Gonzalez – last January.
“Turned into a rag and pulled from each side”
Letter from police Lieutenant William Donato (kidnapped on the 8th APRIL 1998) to his family:
“No-one can imagine the pain provoked by such a long and perverse absence of communication […]. All this time, I’ve paid such a huge price to this bank called “kidnapping”, and at times I feel deader than the dead in this degrading and senseless existence. There are no words to describe the day in the life of a hostage, but I’ve learnt how to stay alive. I have found in myself a strength which gives me the required energy to affront the difficult moments and periods of ill-health […]. A strength found in the love which you have brought me, and in the hope that one day I shall find myself by your side. […]
I am conscious that I am in a situation with an easy solution – but those that hold this solution render it difficult. Why? Quite simply because they have turned us into rags, a rag tugged from each side and which is pulled in order to gain the best piece. Is it that which makes us feel as though we do not exist, that we are worthless […]. Where is the value of life? Where is the part of humanity in those who hold the power to decide on our freedom?
“Tied to a pole with chains around my neck”
Letter from police Colonel Luis Mendieta (kidnapped on the 11th January 1998), to his family:
“It started with pain in my legs, bones and joints. My feet were burning. At the beginning of my illness, I walked with a pole. The long marches continued. I continued to weaken. I was limping. Later, I walked with the aid of two forked branches which served as crutches. I think that my blood vessels were infected. My legs grew dark, almost black. I feared the worst […]. Until the day I could no longer get up […].
They carried me on a sort of stretcher […]. They left me in places full of creatures; flies, mosquitoes, various coloured and sized ants, wasps. In order that I might relieve myself, I had to pull myself through the mud with only the aid of my arms because I could no longer stad up […]. But thanks to God, they gave me an anti-tetanus vaccine - followed a few days later by injections of penicillin […]. How long had I been ill? I do not know. I was unable to walk for five weeks.
Right at the beginning of my convalescence, an incident and some kind of misunderstanding occurred. As a result, a person decided to tie me once more to a pole with chains around my neck. […] I would say that I had been in good health for the first six years. Afterwards, everything deteriorated little by little […]. I had two bouts of malaria, one of which lasted for twenty days […]. For one a half years now, I suffer from pains in the chest, in the heart […]. I have a large brown patch on my back […].
We haven’t had a single book to read over the past four years . Sometimes they bring us the magazines Semana and Cambio, which we read and reread […]. At times, Alan Donato, Murillo [other hostages] and myself take an hour to learn English. At other times, Russian […]. Yet, with age, the lost neurones due to ill-health, the lack of books and notebooks, this work is difficult […].
It is not the physical pain which holds me, nor the chains around my neck which torment me; but the mental agony, the viciousness of the nasty and the indifference of the good – as though we were worth nothing, as though we did not exist…”.
“I want to ask you, Lucy my love…”
Letter from the parliamentarian Jorge Eduardo Géchem (kidnapped on the 19th February 2002), to his wife:
Lucy, you who are all my life, I must evoke my health problems objectively. I have suffered a lot: problems with my heart (five serious heart-attacks and two minor ones), the spinal cord, a very bad lesion of the 4th lumbar. […] I can only bend forwards with difficulty, I cannot carry anything, I cannot wash my clothes – not even my spoon – because it would mean having to carry the water and I cannot…. I suffer regularly from headaches ever since I received a blow to my head, from when they slipped while carrying me on a hammock across a stream.
I want to ask you, Lucy my love, to take the head of a movement of solidarity in the country and the world, on my behalf. I have thought of two alternatives concerning my grave state of health. The first: Ask President Fidel Castro to intervene with [Colombian] President Uribe and the FARC secretariat [the ruling hierarchy of the movement], and propose my transfer to a hospital in Havana for treatment. If I recover, I shall go to a Cuban prison as a political prisoner in expectation of a humanitarian accord. The second: Ask [Venezuelan] President Chavez, [French] President Sarkozy […], Monsignor Castro [president of the Colombian Episcopal Conference], to intervene with President Uribe and the FARC secretariat in favour of a humanitarian accord concerning my case, to exchange myself for guerrilla prisoners who are unwell […]. I want to stay alive, but if these propositions do not come to fruition; my drama shall go on and my physical resistance will not last – I am tired and in agony…”
“We let ourselves be carried by the sadness…”
Declaration by Clara Rojas, Ingrid Betancourt’s friend and political collaborator (kidnapped on the 23rd February 2002, set free on the 10th of January 2008). Extract of a recent interview on Radio Caracol:
“Hostage taking is a crime against humanity […]. The soldiers and police [hostages] live all day long with a chain around their necks. Whatever they do, wherever they go, to bathe, to wash their clothes – they do so wearing their chains. We live through horrible moments of risk and great danger. The army’s helicopters shoot with their machine guns from very close quarters. […]
I have no news from the father [of her son Emmanuel, born on the 16th April 2004, as a result of a liaison with a guerrilla-fighter]. I don’t even know whether he knows he’s the father of the child […]. I haven’t the faintest clue whether the FARC know who it is – I heard that he could be dead […]. I was very worried for Emmanuel’s health. His arm was broken since birth […].
I wrote to the FARC secretariat asking that they entrust the child to my mother through the International Red Cross, but I never received an answer. Then, they convinced me that it would be better that I separate myself from him. They told me that they would arrange for him to receive medical care and would return him to me in two weeks […].
I know nothing of Ingrid since three years. Our relationship deteriorated after a failed attempted escape. We both accused each other for this failure. We no-longer had the same energy, had lost a sense of humour, we stopped eating, we let ourselves be carried by the sadness.”
“Turned into a rag and pulled from each side”
Letter from police Lieutenant William Donato (kidnapped on the 8th APRIL 1998) to his family:
“No-one can imagine the pain provoked by such a long and perverse absence of communication […]. All this time, I’ve paid such a huge price to this bank called “kidnapping”, and at times I feel deader than the dead in this degrading and senseless existence. There are no words to describe the day in the life of a hostage, but I’ve learnt how to stay alive. I have found in myself a strength which gives me the required energy to affront the difficult moments and periods of ill-health […]. A strength found in the love which you have brought me, and in the hope that one day I shall find myself by your side. […]
I am conscious that I am in a situation with an easy solution – but those that hold this solution render it difficult. Why? Quite simply because they have turned us into rags, a rag tugged from each side and which is pulled in order to gain the best piece. Is it that which makes us feel as though we do not exist, that we are worthless […]. Where is the value of life? Where is the part of humanity in those who hold the power to decide on our freedom?
“Tied to a pole with chains around my neck”
Letter from police Colonel Luis Mendieta (kidnapped on the 11th January 1998), to his family:
“It started with pain in my legs, bones and joints. My feet were burning. At the beginning of my illness, I walked with a pole. The long marches continued. I continued to weaken. I was limping. Later, I walked with the aid of two forked branches which served as crutches. I think that my blood vessels were infected. My legs grew dark, almost black. I feared the worst […]. Until the day I could no longer get up […].
They carried me on a sort of stretcher […]. They left me in places full of creatures; flies, mosquitoes, various coloured and sized ants, wasps. In order that I might relieve myself, I had to pull myself through the mud with only the aid of my arms because I could no longer stad up […]. But thanks to God, they gave me an anti-tetanus vaccine - followed a few days later by injections of penicillin […]. How long had I been ill? I do not know. I was unable to walk for five weeks.
Right at the beginning of my convalescence, an incident and some kind of misunderstanding occurred. As a result, a person decided to tie me once more to a pole with chains around my neck. […] I would say that I had been in good health for the first six years. Afterwards, everything deteriorated little by little […]. I had two bouts of malaria, one of which lasted for twenty days […]. For one a half years now, I suffer from pains in the chest, in the heart […]. I have a large brown patch on my back […].
We haven’t had a single book to read over the past four years . Sometimes they bring us the magazines Semana and Cambio, which we read and reread […]. At times, Alan Donato, Murillo [other hostages] and myself take an hour to learn English. At other times, Russian […]. Yet, with age, the lost neurones due to ill-health, the lack of books and notebooks, this work is difficult […].
It is not the physical pain which holds me, nor the chains around my neck which torment me; but the mental agony, the viciousness of the nasty and the indifference of the good – as though we were worth nothing, as though we did not exist…”.
“I want to ask you, Lucy my love…”
Letter from the parliamentarian Jorge Eduardo Géchem (kidnapped on the 19th February 2002), to his wife:
Lucy, you who are all my life, I must evoke my health problems objectively. I have suffered a lot: problems with my heart (five serious heart-attacks and two minor ones), the spinal cord, a very bad lesion of the 4th lumbar. […] I can only bend forwards with difficulty, I cannot carry anything, I cannot wash my clothes – not even my spoon – because it would mean having to carry the water and I cannot…. I suffer regularly from headaches ever since I received a blow to my head, from when they slipped while carrying me on a hammock across a stream.
I want to ask you, Lucy my love, to take the head of a movement of solidarity in the country and the world, on my behalf. I have thought of two alternatives concerning my grave state of health. The first: Ask President Fidel Castro to intervene with [Colombian] President Uribe and the FARC secretariat [the ruling hierarchy of the movement], and propose my transfer to a hospital in Havana for treatment. If I recover, I shall go to a Cuban prison as a political prisoner in expectation of a humanitarian accord. The second: Ask [Venezuelan] President Chavez, [French] President Sarkozy […], Monsignor Castro [president of the Colombian Episcopal Conference], to intervene with President Uribe and the FARC secretariat in favour of a humanitarian accord concerning my case, to exchange myself for guerrilla prisoners who are unwell […]. I want to stay alive, but if these propositions do not come to fruition; my drama shall go on and my physical resistance will not last – I am tired and in agony…”
“We let ourselves be carried by the sadness…”
Declaration by Clara Rojas, Ingrid Betancourt’s friend and political collaborator (kidnapped on the 23rd February 2002, set free on the 10th of January 2008). Extract of a recent interview on Radio Caracol:
“Hostage taking is a crime against humanity […]. The soldiers and police [hostages] live all day long with a chain around their necks. Whatever they do, wherever they go, to bathe, to wash their clothes – they do so wearing their chains. We live through horrible moments of risk and great danger. The army’s helicopters shoot with their machine guns from very close quarters. […]
I have no news from the father [of her son Emmanuel, born on the 16th April 2004, as a result of a liaison with a guerrilla-fighter]. I don’t even know whether he knows he’s the father of the child […]. I haven’t the faintest clue whether the FARC know who it is – I heard that he could be dead […]. I was very worried for Emmanuel’s health. His arm was broken since birth […].
I wrote to the FARC secretariat asking that they entrust the child to my mother through the International Red Cross, but I never received an answer. Then, they convinced me that it would be better that I separate myself from him. They told me that they would arrange for him to receive medical care and would return him to me in two weeks […].
I know nothing of Ingrid since three years. Our relationship deteriorated after a failed attempted escape. We both accused each other for this failure. We no-longer had the same energy, had lost a sense of humour, we stopped eating, we let ourselves be carried by the sadness.”
Link to original article: http://agirpouringrid.com/Extraits-de-lettres-d-otages.html
Photo: H de C
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