The Colombian jungle had a sense of tranquility. Mist and warm drizzle enveloped me as I approached the exit of the “Red no go zone” where a military checkpoint approached. Local peasants had picked me up and given me a lift along the jungle track that lay within the boundaries of the Putomayo region. At the checkpoint, the Colombian military commander poked his head through the window. He recognised most of the locals - apart from myself - and a German who I'd met enroute. He asked if we were the foreigners that had disappeared the week before.......
“Yes we are”.....my Spanish was still good; I had travelled in Colombia a year before - I knew that the interrogation that was about to unfold wouldn't be awkward......
We were escorted to the commanders office while anticipating some resolution about the N.D.E. (near death experience) within the no go zone. At his desk the commander had an array of questions that seemed impossible to answer: “You were taken by The F.A.R.C. guerillas, is this correct?”....
”How did it happen?”....
”Can you describe them?”.....
”What weapons were they carrying?”...
”How did you escape?”............
The small, local micro bus that I had boarded the week before was headed towards the Putumayo Rio. I had 15 kilos of camera equipment and the clothes I was wearing. The bus was full of indigenous locals heading home to the Amazon region, The music was screaming 120 db, there were baskets of chickens and caged piglets on board. The German who I'd befriended seemed lost and bewildered due to the drama within the bus. There was nothing but rain forest and jungle ahead on the mud track. We had crossed in to the “Red Zone” where the control was run by F.A.R.C. (Revolutionary armed forces of Colombia). Within a few hours, inside the “no go zone”, the driver stopped to pick up what appeared to be a well dressed woman that looked out of place, she boarded the bus then reached into her bag. Hastily pulling out a pistol, she steadily pointed it at the driver. I freaked. I knew this was real and sure enough on the verges of the jungle, F.A.R.C. guerillas appeared - as if from nowhere - carrying heavy arms. My first reaction was to hide my bag under a local's seat, covering it with his belongings. We were asked to exit the bus then line up together. Then we were frisked and interrogated.
The woman that held the bus up searched the contents on board and found my hidden bag. I held my breath: this could have resulted in a quick execution. After an hour long propaganda speech from F.A.R.C rebels, the locals on the bus were freed but we remained prisoners.
The German was nervous: his pants were wet.
“Whats going to happen now?”, he asked. My answer was direct : “You see the sun today?”.
“Yes” he replied.
“Well enjoy it because it's the last day you'll see it"
"Prepare for your death”
We were escorted to their jungle hide-out where all types of questions were asked: what nationalities were we and what we were doing within the remote area that they controlled. The body search was dismal; they didn't bother to check my private parts where I'd hidden my credentials. I spoke with humble words to keep them from harming us and kept a cool, steady voice throughout the ordeal in an attempt to show respect. Our fingers and ears would have been worthless if they'd intended sending our body parts to the Bogota Govt.
Upon release with my back to them my first step weighed a ton waiting for the bullet from behind.
Back at the checkpoint, the commander's eyes widened; “ How did the F.A.R.C. let you live....I don't understand. They killed 4 foreigners two months ago.”
“You came here with 9 cats - now you have 8 left”.
Leaving Colombia on that trip left a bad taste in my mouth. However, I've returned three times since. I still enjoy the variety of experiences the country has to offer.
Touching the essence of any country - people from all walks of life, their politics, their culture and an array of ever-changing landscapes has driven me to capture it all in photographic images. Many experiences, like the one described above went un-witnessed by my camera but have remained as etched memories in my psyche; I've also been shot at by The Sendero Luminoso (shining path), jailed for alleged spying in Iran. I've nearly ended up as shark feed in the roaring 40s in Southern Chile, survived a blistering Tibetan winter, been harassed in Venezuela by corrupt military, chased by thugs in Tanzania....
And then there are events the camera lens watched and captured, many of which are shared on this website. Stay tuned for the story continues.......
