Interview with Ingrid Betancourt: 'I Feel Constantly Threatened' - DER SPIEGEL
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Interview with Ingrid Betancourt 'I Feel Constantly Threatened'

Ingrid Betancourt -- the 46-year-old French-Colombian politician and former FARC hostage, who now lives in France -- discusses her recent trip to Latin America, her time in captivity and her plans for working through what she experienced there.
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SPIEGEL: You recently visited Colombia for the first time since you were freed from captivity five months ago. Did the old fears return?

Betancourt: I suffer from a post-traumatic stress disorder, like many former hostages. If I hear the howling of a low-flying airplane, I have to run to the toilet and throw up. It's like a reflex.

SPIEGEL: Did you experience a lot of air raids during your captivity?

Betancourt: When we heard the sounds of an airplane or helicopter engine in the jungle, we would pack everything up and run away, immediately. The fear was terrible. What could we leave behind? Even when you're in captivity, you still have two or three belongings that you're still attached to. For me it was a shirt, a pair of pants, my bible and my radio.

SPIEGEL: So inside, you don't really feel free yet?

Betancourt: Sometimes the sound of a voice is enough -- short, overbearing sentences executed like in an interrogation -- to make me freeze up inside. It evokes the commanding tones of my guards and it blocks me.

SPIEGEL: When you returned to Colombia, did you fear the FARC rebels? After all, you are now considered a "military target."

Betancourt: I feel constantly threatened by them. I am protected in France, but in Colombia, we constantly had to change our travel routes and daily routine. The security authorities made certain that my agenda didn't become predictable.

SPIEGEL: Do the guerrillas still have such great influence?

Betancourt: FARC has been weakened, that's certain. Their leadership committee is unable to meet; the military pressure forces them to change camps frequently. That hinders decisions and weakens the organization. Thanks to the drug trade, though, they still have lots of money at their disposal. It's enough for them to survive for a long time to come.

SPIEGEL: You have established a foundation aimed at promoting understanding and tolerance. What does that mean in concrete terms?

Betancourt: We are starting a project in Colombia in Calamar, a small place not far from Tomachipán, where I was held captive. This is where the guerrillas who guarded me came from. During our conversations, it became clear to me that they hadn't joined the rebels because they were communists -- it was because they were hungry. There are no jobs in the area -- at best girls can become prostitutes, and the young men all work on the drug barons' coca plantations. We want to create training positions and give them access to higher education. They're being put up in a boarding school where they can learn a craft.

SPIEGEL: What are you doing to work through your own past?

Betancourt: At some point I will write down what I experienced in a book, but I need time to do that. This is a matter that goes deep into my soul and when I think back on it, I have to overcome a number of mental blocks. I will withdraw to a quiet place to write, undisturbed by the telephone, e-mail and accompanied only by my mother. The second thing I want to do is develop a play -- it's actually already written, at least in my head. It deals with terrible things that I have experienced and people I have encountered -- but they will be fictitious people and I will let them have their say.

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