a relation of my imprisonment
The Washington Post, March 31, 2006:
JOURNALIST JILL CARROLL FREED BY HER CAPTORS IN BAGHDAD
American journalist Jill Carroll, abducted at gunpoint in January, was released Thursday after nearly three months of intensive efforts to free her and public pleas on her behalf from a worldwide chorus of relatives, politicians and religious leaders.
Excerpts from Jill Carroll's Prison Diary:
Day One:The bad news is: I've been kidnapped. The good news is: I've been given a black-and-white composition book and a pen so I can keep a convenient diary. The other bad news is: the notebook is lined for Arabic writing instead of college-ruled, which is my preference. (Should I ask my captors for a different journal?) All in all, the bad news outweighs the good, mostly due to the kidnapping part.
Day Two: I'm starting to wonder if working freelance was such a good idea. Will the Christian Science Monitor make the same effort to rescue me that they would for a salaried reporter? Also, I've taken to telling the kidnappers that I worked for "CSM" so as not to anger them by using the word "Christian." As I learned recently, you can never be too careful ... I wonder if they'd have any problems with the word "Science"? At the very least, I assume they wouldn't have negative connotations with the word "Monitor." Unless, maybe, one of them had a relative who was eaten to death by a monitor lizard, like a Komodo Dragon. It seems improbable, I know. I'm not suggesting that it happened in the wild, but maybe Saddam used lizards to torture people and one of these guys had a relative who was imprisoned under the previous regime. Anyway, to stay safe, I won't say "monitor" or "Komodo." (Not that "Komodo" comes up much in conversation... I guess I won't say "kimono" either, since that sounds similar... that might come up in a conversation about clothing or something like that.)
Day Four: I would like to say that the food is bad, but I don't want to seem culturally insensitive. Maybe this stuff they're feeding me is a delicacy here? The odds would be against it, since prisoners usually aren't held by gourmands. Still, it's best not to ruffle feathers. I'll look into it when I'm released. Maybe I can create a Zagat's type guide to different countries to get kidnapped in, rating food, climate, congeniality of captors, etc.
Day Seven: Wow. I just realized I'm the same age as noted blogger Erik Tanouye, and that I am quite attractive, bilingual, and an accomplished journalist. I really hope that I am released safely so that I can look him up when I get back to the States and see if we hit it off. He has a background in journalism, too, so we have that in common. Let's hope I am not a lesbian or already seeing somebody, and that I survive this ordeal still able to have a normal relationship. Also, I must remember not to wear this veil in all the TV interviews after I get released, since it's not terribly becoming.
Day Twelve: I haven't been making hash marks in the wall to keep track of how long I've been here, the way they always do in prison movies. I assume when I get out someone will tell me how long I was gone. I wonder why they couldn't do that in those old prison movies -- or, if you know what day you got out, and what day you went in, can't you figure out how many days you were kidnapped? Simple math, people.
Day Sixteen: I should have brought a book.
Day Seventeen: You know, I once made a list of "Desert Island" discs -- ten albums I would take with me to a desert island. Of course, I don't have any of those CDs with me. Not that I'm on a desert island, but it's a similar situation. Now I see the folly of those lists. The important part isn't figuring out which ten albums to take. The important part is to then carry those ten albums with you at all times, because you never know when you're going to end up on the proverbial desert island. I guess it's not terribly practical, but still, that's definitely an argument against those people who include box sets as one album -- it's easy enough when you're just writing it down, but quite another thing when you've got to carry the weight of the CDs.
Day Eighteen: I got so bored I made a Sudoko puzzle for myself to solve. First I filled in all the squares with the numbers, then I erased some of them. If I'm still here in ten days, I will try to solve it -- hopefully by then I will have forgotten which numbers go where. (I should note that I am writing this entry on January 25, when Sudoko is still a funny reference that people aren't sick of yet.)
Day Twenty: I made a new desert island disc list this morning:
- Kelly Clarkson: Breakaway
- The Escape Club: Wild Wild West
- The Runaways: Runaway
- Pet Shop Boys: Release
- Norah Jones: Come Away With Me
- Tom Waits: Real Gone
- Bob Marley: Songs of Freedom (I know, it's a boxset)
- The Shawshank Redemption: Original Soundtrack
- Frank Sinatra: Escape From Baghdad Captivity
- Miles Davis: Kind of Blue (doesn't fit with the rest, but it's still a great album)
Day Twenty-Four: If I don't get out soon, my TiVo at home is going to run out of space and I'm going to lose some episodes of "Grey's Anatomy." That's a bummer... In addition, the fact that I watch "Grey's Anatomy" isn't going to win me any points with blogger/hearthrob/future-BF Erik Tanouye.
Day Twenty-Eight: That Sudoko puzzle didn't entertain me as much as I had hoped.
Day Thirty-Six: Seriously, this sucks!
Day Fifty-Two: I haven't updated this diary in a long time. Sorry. I'm still kidnapped. Other than that, things are pretty much the same.
Day Sixty-Three: 129 lbs, alcohol units 0, cigarettes 0, calories 600 (approx)
Food consumed today:
4 pcs bread
3 cups water
1/2 container hummus
1/4 eggplant (raw)
Noon. Baghdad: my cell. Ugh. The last thing on Earth I feel physically, emotionally or mentally equipped to do is still be a prisoner.
Day Seventy: You know what isn't funny? Guards pretending they're about to let you out, and then pretending to get distracted at the last minute and forget to let you out. And then pretending that they finally remembered they were about to let you out, but then having the wrong key. Actually, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that pretty much all jokes by captors at the expense of their hostages aren't funny.
Day Seventy-Three: Note to the guy who recently made a videotape of me to prove I'm still alive -- enough with the light meters and pretentious mise-en-scene ideas, buddy. You're making a kidnap video, not fucking Grand Illusion.
Day Seventy-Nine: The guard says they're going to release me at the end of the week, but I know that April Fools Day is coming up, so I'm not getting my hopes up.
Day Eighty-One: It seems like the release might be for real. This morning I backdated 81 hash marks on the wall. I did some with my left hand so they're not too uniform.
Day Eighty-Two: I'm free! I can't wait to take a shower, eat a decent meal, and get drunk off my ass. I hope the CSM doesn't expect me to finish that article. I guess I should look into a book deal or something. Also, I should get online so I can update my match.com profile to show that I've survived a kidnapping. I hope I can find someone there who appreciates my knowledge of Jean Renoir's films, my semi-obscure pop culture references, and my hotness.
Argh! Did I wear this stupid veil to the TV interview? Shit.

