In the Presence of My Enemies Read Online Free PDF

to organize a “getting to know you” exercise for his fellow hostages. We all crowded into the wheelhouse and sat around on the floor or whatever else we could find. Going around the circle, each person gave his or her name and the person’s name to the left. Soon we all had one another’s names nailed down. We talked and even laughed together a bit, trying to make the best of the situation. We talked about our interests and other personal things.
    Guillermo told us he’d been born in Peru but had immigrated as a teenager to the Los Angeles area, where he now had a small construction business. He had come to Dos Palmas on vacation the year before, which is when he had met Fe working in the gift shop. They had been in touch by e-mail ever since, and now they were engaged.
    As we learned bits and pieces about each of the other hostages, we became more of a team, more willing to encourage one another and try to keep our spirits up.
    By that evening, the “ecumenical” nature of the boat was in full evidence. The Muslims, of course, conducted their ritual of bowing down and praying as they faced west, toward Mecca. The Catholics got out their rosary beads. Finally, one of the hostages asked Martin to pray aloud for the benefit of the group.
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May 28
Philippine president Gloria Arroyo appears on national television to declare “all-out war” on the Abu Sayyaf, telling them she will “finish what you have started.”
May 28
Martin’s sister, Cheryl Spicer, and her husband, Walt, drive seven hours north from Manila to Aritao to stay with the Burnham children.
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    “Lord, all of this doesn’t surprise you,” he began in a calming voice as we all bowed our heads. “You know where we are, even though we don’t. We know that people are worried about us. But you hold us in your hands. Give us the grace to go through this trial. We’re depending on you. Amen.”
    A peace settled into my heart as I listened to my husband’s words. The same seemed to happen for the others. “Wow, you can really pray good!” they said. Martin laughed. For him, prayer was just his way of talking to God, sharing the thoughts of his heart.
    By that night, we had generally figured out where we’d all like to sleep. The younger members of the Abu Sayyaf had already staked out the roof of the wheelhouse as theirs. Near the bow were places to hang hammocks, which were claimed by their comrades. A few others rigged up hammocks near the back. The fishing crew claimed their turf.
    As for the hostages, we mostly stacked ourselves along the narrow sides of the deck, heads inward and feet hanging out over the ocean. A few others settled into a central well space in front of the wheelhouse. All together, we covered every inch of available space.
    There was one luxury about these circumstances, I noticed: No mosquitoes! They had nowhere to breed here in the midst of salt water. We could lie out here and stare at the stars above without being bitten. There was a gentle breeze, and the sound of the water lapping against the boat sounded peaceful.
    Francis and Tess, as it turned out, were fans of the old Beatles music, and in fact, they sang quite well together. As we stretched out under the open sky, they began to sing the mellow songs: “Yesterday,” “Ticket to Ride,” “Let It Be,” “The Long and Winding Road.” The rest of us joined in when we could. Even the Abu Sayyaf sang a little, though such music was technically forbidden by their faith.
    Then we came to the song “Imagine,” John Lennon’s ballad about a different world. When we got to the line “Imagine all the people, living life in peace” I finally lost it. For the first time since we’d been kidnapped, tears began to stream down my face. It was so poignant—all these hostages singing about a world so near and yet so unbelievably beyond our grasp. As we lay there in that moment, a bond began to form, connecting us with one another, even our captors.