Chapter Two
When I came around, I was sitting on a hard chair, with my hands still fastened
behind my back and my ankles fastened together. The bag was still on my head,
which not only meant that I could not see anything but also that I was extremely
hot and unable to breath adequately. I began to panic, and started straining
against my bonds, rocking backwards and forwards on the chair and trying to
shake the bag free. As I fell painfully onto the floor, I heard voices,
followed by footsteps coming towards me. Two pairs of hands grabbed me, and
lifted me and the chair up so that we were once again upright.
"Stupid bastard", I heard a man say in Indonesian, then somebody hit me hard on
the side of my face. I made no sound as I could feel my mouth filling with
blood, and felt the blood running down my chin and down my neck.
"You idiot", I heard the woman say, "we need him unhurt". Despite my obvious
fear, I took some consolation in this comment. I decided that it was my turn to
speak.
"Please", I said in Indonesian. "Please, remove the hood, I beg you. I can't
breath." For a brief moment the room was entirely silent except for my own
strained efforts at breathing.
"Ah, he does speak Indonesian", a different man said in a higher, gravely voice.
"Is that right?" the woman said, whilst someone (I guess it was her) kicked me
firmly in the shins with heavy boots. "Is that right, English boy? You speak
our language?" I nodded.
"What if he's heard everything we've been saying?" the first man said. "If he
gets free he could ruin everything - we have to get rid of him".
"Relax", said the man with the high voice, "he's been unconscious, he hasn't
heard a thing".
"I just hope so, for his sake", said the woman, grabbing a fistful of my hair
through the hood and pulling my head sideways.
"I swear, I have heard nothing, nothing at all" I said in a panic. I soon felt
a blow to the back of my head, this time more of a gentle slap than the fierce,
sharp blow that had knocked me out god knows how long earlier.
"If we are talking to you", the woman said, "we will let you know". I nodded
quickly, afraid to speak in case of further reprisal. Again silence
transcended, and again I noticed how hot I was and my breathing became even more
laboured. I heard the three people talking amongst themselves, and then they
walked away, apparently to another room.
I was left on my own to contemplate my situation. My initial guess was that
these people were Islamic extremists. Since the events of September 11th and
the ensuing attacks on Afghanistan, anti-western feelings were running high
amongst certain social and political groups in Indonesia, which is, after all,
the most popular Muslim country on the planet. The flaw in this theory was that
they had a woman in their group. Women are traditionally the home-makers in
Muslim societies, rarely having jobs or any kind of life outside of their
domestic duties, and covering their faces and bodies entirely before being
allowed in public. In fact, it is often seen as acceptable for men to treat
their wives and daughters violently. Such traditions surely did not fit in with
involving a woman in any kind of war or terrorism. Still, I imagined that in
such a downtrodden and desperate community it might not be easy to recruit new
"soldiers", so possibly they did not have the luxury of choice. With these
thoughts on my mind, I eventually drifted into an uneasy sleep.
