UNDER THEIR CLAWS

Chapter 1 THAT FATEFUL DAY At last I was back at my farm breathing in the aroma of the fertile earth and the fragrant air. For many years I had scraped this rich soil out from under my fingernails after laboring to nurse the plants in their first stages of life. I couldn’t wait to inspect our latest experiment, the ‘guanábana’ trees, in bloom for the first time. As usual, Jaider, the caretaker, was by my side. Suddenly, I felt the shocking sensation of two cold, iron objects pressed against my temples. I froze, “Oh, my God! Could these be.....??????” My head was pounding as my worst fears descended upon me. I squinted at the glare of sunlight bouncing off the shiny revolver barrels tightly gripped in the dirty hands of two gruesome looking men. It happened so quickly that all I can remember is the terrifying thought of death being but an instant away. My arms were trapped in the sturdy grips of my assailants, and I had no choice but to follow their orders. “The ‘patrón’ wants ya in the house”, one of them growled. My heart sank deeper as we reached the living-room where two other men were pointing guns at Nydia, (Jaider’s wife) their three children, my driver Rodrigo, and another worker. “Ya better not put up a fight and come with us or I’ll kill’em here n’now,” one of them threatened in a blood-chilling tone. He was a strange, ugly man with dark, ominous circles under his eyes and a cold, morose face. Mustering up all my courage I answered, “I’ll go with you, but please don’t hurt them.” Then I heard myself asking where they were going to take me. He gave me the same answer, “Ya better hurry - the patron don´t like ta wait. We’ll bring ya back this afternoon”. “Is this a kidnapping”? I asked. “No, are ya deaf? Ya’ll be back tanight. We’re even gonna’ go in yar car. Where’ya been? Ya ain’t been ‘round for five weeks. We’ve been waitin’ around n’checking you out - ya ain’t easy ta find.” If they knew I hadn’t been there lately, what else did they know? One of them pulled a bottle out of his pocket while the other grabbed my hair, yanked my head back, and forced a greenish liquid down my throat. I fought to spit it out, so he pointed his gun at my head again and made me gulp it down. It was oh, so bitter! It must have been the famous ‘Burundanga’, a narcotic known to cause paralysis of the brain if taken in excess. My eyes met with stares of horror on the faces of my workers as I was dragged away. Two men stayed behind - one held them at gunpoint while the other tied them up. The man with the dark circles under his eyes demanded my ID card and the car’s registration papers. He grabbed my purse and pushed me into the back of my faithful, old, Peugeot truck that had transported me to and from the farm for many years. My shock was so intense that it didn´t occur to me this was the last time I would lay eyes on my beloved ‘finca’(farm); a nesting place for my young ones and a source of many wonderful family memories. Another man took the wheel and drove roughly to the gate, where he stopped to pick up two people waiting in a parked car at the side of the road. They were a strange pair; one was a woman and the other, a bizarre-looking specimen with long hair and a strong, muscular body that was absurdly out of place in a mini-skirt, leotards and make-up caked thickly over ‘his’ face. Was I hallucinating? There were rumors that the FARC were demanding a monthly ‘vacuna’ (vaccine), a nicer name for extortion, from two rich cattle ranchers nearby. These were the only FARC encounters I had heard of in the region. The man at the wheel was a terrible driver and couldn’t keep my truck under control. Between curses, he tried to pick up speed in first gear, forcing the clutch so hard, the car broke down. They simply dumped it by the side of the road and dragged me to another vehicle following close behind. By that time everything was hazy and I was seeing double. The rest of the day was lost to me. I must have lapsed in and out of consciousness, completely unaware of my whereabouts. Later, I found out that my abductors were common criminals, who carried out the actual abduction, and then sold their victim to the FARC.