A Rope and a Prayer: The Story of a Kidnapping by David Rohde & Kristen Mulvihill

Author:David Rohde & Kristen Mulvihill [Rohde, David & Mulvihill, Kristen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, General, International Relations, Editors; Journalists; Publishers, Political Science
ISBN: 9781101445396
Google: 7Ypg28yZ6aIC
Amazon: B00C024QF6
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2010-11-30T08:00:00+00:00

After a two-hour drive in Badruddin’s truck, we arrive in a snow-covered valley with towering pine trees. The hills and snow, he hopes, will convince the world we are being held in Afghanistan, not in a bustling town in Pakistan.

The drive has been a delight for me. After nearly three months of living in walled compounds, I relished looking out the window as we drove through towns, villages, and open spaces of North Waziristan. Much of the landscape is dry, desolate, and reminiscent of the American Southwest. Other areas have the rolling hills and soaring trees of the Rocky Mountains.

Badruddin orders Tahir, Asad, and me to put on new black Chinese-made high-top basketball sneakers he has purchased. I fold my pants into the tops of the sneakers and wrap the blanket Badruddin gave me months ago around my neck as a scarf. I hope both steps will make the video look more ridiculous than frightening. Badruddin tells his men to set up a tent he has purchased as a prop on the hillside. His men can’t figure out how to assemble it. I think about helping them but decide not to.

As a backup plan, Badruddin instructs us to walk up a snow-covered hillside with a half dozen guards. Scarves cover their faces and each carries a machine gun or Kalashnikov. Timor Shah leads the way. He peers through a tiny pair of binoculars Badruddin has given him. We follow him up the hill, and I exaggerate my movements to try to make the video appear staged.

We are led into a small cave where one of Badruddin’s men has lit a fire. Badruddin orders us to say we are sick and in the mountains of Afghanistan. I do so but try to show little emotion. As I speak, I place my left hand over my right, hoping my wife will see that I am flashing my wedding ring at her.

Outside the cave, we sit on the hillside and Badruddin orders me to again call for President Obama to meet the Taliban’s demands. I do so but add a new line. At Tahir and Asad’s request, I explicitly ask journalists to publicize our case.

“We ask journalists to please help us,” I say. “Please write stories about us. Please don’t let us be forgotten.”

I fail to cry. After the last video, I am less willing to placate our captors. Badruddin does not seem to care. After a few more minutes, he stops filming. Our location shoot has taken roughly thirty minutes.

As we walk down the hill, the guards get into a snowball fight with Tahir and Asad.

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