Fountain - Brief Encounters With Che Guevara

No way Blair insisted to anyone who asked, no self-respecting bunch of extortionist rebels would ever want to kidnap him. He was the poorest of the poor, poorer even than the hardscrabble campesinos pounding the mountains into dead slag heapsJohn Blair, graduate assistant slave and aspiring Ph.D., whose idea of big money was a twenty-dollar bill. In case of trouble he had letters of introduction from Duke University, the von Humboldt Institute, and the Instituto Geogrfica in Bogot, whose director was known to have contacts in the Movimiento Unido de Revolucionarios de Colombia, the MURC, which controlled unconscionable swaths of the southwest cordilleras. For three weeks Blair would hike through the remnant cloud forest, then go back to Duke and scratch together enough grants to spend the following year in the Huila district, where he would study the effects of habitat fragmentation on rare local species of parrotlets.

It could be done; it would be done; it had to be done. Even before hed first published in a peer-reviewed journalat age seventeen, in Auk, Field Notes on the Breeding and Diet of the Tovi ParakeetBlair had known his was likely the last generation that would witness scores of these species in the wild, which fueled a core urgency in his boyhood passionobsession, his bewildered parents would have saidfor anything avian. Full speed ahead, and damn the politics; as it happened they grabbed him near Popayn, a brutally efficient bunch in jungle fatigues who rousted all the livestock and people off the bus. Blair hunched over, trying to blend in with the compact Indians, but a tall skinny gringo with a big backpack might as well have had a turban on his head.

You, said the comandante in a cool voice, youre coming with us.

Blair started to explain that he was a scholar, thus worthless in any monetary sensehed been counting on his formidable language skills to walk him through this very sort of situationbut one of the rebels was into his backpack now, spilling the notebooks and Zeiss-Jena binoculars into the road, then the Leica with the cannon-barrel 200x zoom. Blairs most valuable possessions, worth more than his car.

Hes a spy, announced the rebel.

No, no, Blair politely corrected. Soy ornitlogo. Estudiante.

Youre a spy, declared the comandante, poking Blairs notebooks with the tip of his gun. In the name of the Secretariat Im arresting you.

When Blair protested they hit him fairly hard in the stomach, and that was the moment he knew that his life had changed. They called him la merca, the merchandise, and for the next four days he slogged through the mountains eating cold arepas and sardines and taking endless taunts about firing squads, although he did, thanks to an eighty-mile-a-week running habit, hold up better than the oil executives and mining engineers the rebels were used to bringing in. The first day he simply put down his head and marched, enduring the hardship only because he had to, but as the column moved deeper into the mountains a sense of possibility began to assert itself, a signal too faint to call an idea. To the east the cordillera was scorched and spent, rubbled by decades of desperate agriculture. The few mingy scraps of surviving forest were eerily silent, but once they crossed the borders of the MURC-controlled zone the vegetation closed around them with the density of a cave. At night Blair registered a deep suck and gurgle, the engine of the forests vast plumbing system; mornings they woke to the screams of piha birds, then the mixed-species flocks started in with their contrapuntal yammerings and groks and crees that made the forest sound like a construction site. In three days on the trail Blair reliably saw fourteen species on the CITES endangered list, as well as an exceedingly rare Hapalopsittaca perched in a fern the size of a minivan. He was amazed, and said as much to the young comandante, who eyed him for a moment in a thoughtful way.

Yes, the rebel answered, ecology is important to the Revolution. As a scholarhe gave a faint, possibly ironic smileyou can appreciate this, and he made a little speech about the environment, how the firmeza revolucionario had banned the multinational logging and mining mafias from all liberated zones.

The column reached base camp on the fourth day, trudging into the fortified MURC compound through a soiling rain. They hauled Blair straight to the Office of Complaints and Claims, where he sat for two hours in a damp hallway staring at posters of Lenin and Che, wondering if the rebels planned to shoot him today. When at last they led him into the main office, Comandante Albertos first words were:

You dont look like a spy.

A number of Blairs possessions lay on the desk: binoculars, camera, maps and compass, the notebooks with their microscopic Blairian scribble. Seven or eight subcomandantes were seated along the wall, while Alberto, the comandante mximo, studied Blair with the calm of someone blowing smoke rings. He resembled a late-period Jerry Garcia in fatigues, a heavy man with steel-rim glasses, double bags under his eyes, and a dense brillo bush of graying hair.

Im not a spy, Blair answered in his wired, earnest way. Im an ornithologist. I study birds.

However, Alberto continued, if they wanted to send a spy, they wouldnt send somebody who looked like a spy. So the fact that you dont look like a spy makes me think youre a spy.

Blair considered. And what if I did look like a spy?

Then Id think you were a spy.

The subcomandantes hawed like drunks rolling around in the mud. So was it all a big joke, Blair wanted to know, or was his life really at stake? Or both, which meant he would probably go mad? Im an ornithologist, he said a little breathlessly, I dont know how many ways I can tell you that, but its true. I came to study the birds.

Albertos jaws made a twisted, munching motion, like he was trying to eat his tongue. That is for the Secretariat to decide, all cases of spying go to the Secretariat. And even if you are what you say you are, you will have to stay with us while your release is arranged.

My release, Blair echoed bitterly. You know kidnapping is a crime in most countries. Not to mention a violation of human-rights.

This isnt a kidnapping, this is a retencin in the sociopolitical context of the war. We merely hold you until a fee is paid for your release.

Whats the difference? Blair cried, and when Alberto wouldnt answer he came slightly unglued. Listen, he said, I dont have any money, Im a student, okay? In fact Im worse than worthless, I owe twenty thousand dollars in student loans. And if Im not back at Duke in two weeks, he went on, his voice cracking with the wrongness and rage of it all, theyre going to give my teaching assistant slot to somebody else. So would you please just save us all a lot of trouble and let me go?

They scanned his passport photo instead, then posted it on their Web site with a five-million-dollar ransom demand, which even the hardcore insurgents knew was a stretch. Sixth Front gets the Exxon guys, Subcomandante Lauro muttered, and we get the scientist with the holes in his boots. He became known around camp as John Blair, always the two names together, Johnblair, but John got mangled in the depths of their throats so that it came out as the even more ridiculous Joan. In any case they couldnt seem to speak his name without smiling; thirty years of low-intensity warfare had given the rebels a heightened sense of the absurd, and Blairs presence was just too fertile to ignore, a gringo so thick, so monumentally oblivious that hed walked into the middle of a war to study a bunch of birds.