A House in the Sky (50 page)

Still, try telling that to a mother, or a father, or a husband or wife caught in the powerless agony of standing by.

I think often about the boys who held me hostage. How could I not? My feelings about them can’t be easily measured or fixed, especially as time goes by. That’s another set of sliding abacus beads. For my own good, I strive toward forgiveness and compassion above all the other feelings—anger, hatred, confusion, self-pity—that surface in me. I understand that those boys and even the leaders of the group were products of their environment—a violent, seemingly unending war that has orphaned thousands of children and reaches back over twenty years now.

I choose to forgive the people who took my freedom from me and abused me, despite the fact that what they were doing was absolutely wrong. I choose also to forgive myself for the impact that my decision to go to Somalia had on family and friends at home. Forgiving is not an easy thing to do. Some days it’s no more than a distant spot on the horizon. I look toward it. I point my feet in its direction. Some days I get there and other days I don’t. More than anything else, though, it’s what has helped me move forward with my life.

One of the Global Enrichment Foundation’s programs has been to help create a school for Somali women living as refugees in Eastleigh, Kenya—a run-down section of Nairobi known as Little Mogadishu. In the winter of 2012, I spent several weeks there, arranging for computers and supplies, meeting with teachers and some of the seventy-five
women who had signed on as students, listening as they described the sorts of skills they hoped to acquire. The school was set up to offer computer and literacy classes, job skills training, medical workshops, and information sessions on the legal rights of refugees. One afternoon, I attended a meeting with Nellius and Farhiya, the school’s two teachers. Joined by the GEF’s program director, we sat in a small classroom at the community center where we’d rented our initial space. Pinned to the walls were colorful posters of vegetables, animals, and numbers, each labeled with the corresponding English word. The four of us were there that day to brainstorm ideas for the new school’s name, writing various options on a big black chalkboard.

A single possibility stood out among the others, and one of the women drew a thick circle around it with white chalk.
Rajo
was the name we picked for the school. It’s the Somali word for
hope
. And hope, we all agreed, is the best thing in the world.

T
here were so many people who supported us as we worked on this book. Thanking them is the most joyful part of all.

We are grateful for the incredibly smart and compassionate team at Scribner and Simon & Schuster: Daniel Burgess, Kara Watson, Brian Belfiglio, Lauren Lavelle, Leah Sikora, Greg Mortimer, Mia Crowley-Hald, Beth Thomas, Colin Harrison, Paul Whitlach, Tal Goretsky, Kevin Hanson, David Millar, Rita Silva, Elisa Rivlin, Elisa Shokoff, Roz Lippel, and Susan Moldow. And finally, to the incomparable Nan Graham, who is wise, passionate, and so very gifted with her editorial pencil: Thank you, Nan, for caring so much.

At ICM Partners, we had a humbling amount of help from Kristyn Keene, Heather Karpas, Liz Farrell, and John DeLaney, and most especially from Sloan Harris, who understood early on what we wanted to do and with unwavering grace and marvelous ferocity helped us get there.

To our friends and early readers, who offered editorial insight, pep talks, and courage, we are so very thankful: Caitlin Guthiel, Debra Spark, Lily King, Susan Conley, Anja Hanson, Peggy Orenstein, Beth Rashbaum, Susan Casey, and Elizabeth Weil. Anouar Majid and Dina Ibrahim loaned their eyes to the Arabic in the book; Hassan Alto checked the Somali. Anne Connell offered early copy editing support.
And Tom Colligan poured his heart into fact-checking the manuscript, becoming a friend and ally along the way.

This book emerged from innumerable hours of recorded conversation between the two of us and long interviews with others: Thank you to Kimberly Wasco, Emily Umhoeffer, Caitlin Allen, and Annie Sutton for helping with transcription.

We are grateful for the work of a number of journalists who have focused on Somalia and on the global epidemic of hostage-taking. Special thanks to Jeffrey Gettleman and Mohamed Ibrahim of the
New York Times,
who have covered Somali war, politics, and culture with exceptional intelligence; their reporting provided consistently helpful background. The reference to the payroll and accounting of Somali hostage-takers on
pages 321
and
322
comes from Jay Badahur’s excellent book,
The Pirates of Somalia: Inside Their Hidden World
. Robert Draper, who initially introduced us and has written insightfully on Somalia, forever has our friendship and gratitude.

Ilena Silverman belongs in a category all her own. A steady friend and incisive editor, she asked all the right questions at all the right times. Our debt to and respect for her is enormous.

And to Dr. Katherine Porterfield of the Bellevue/NYU Program for Survivors of Torture, who gave selflessly and expertly to this process in so many ways. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you.

*

From Sara:

A
MANDA’S FAMILY IN
Canada opened its doors to me with uncommon warmth and generosity. I’m grateful to Lorinda Stewart, Jon Lindhout, and Perry Nietz for their excellent record-keeping and unending willingness to answer questions. Thanks to Pascal Maître for his time and beautiful images of Somalia, to Ajoos Sanura and Abdifatah Elmi for the hours spent with me in Nairobi, and to Sasha Chanoff and everyone at RefugePoint for the humbling introduction to the people of Eastleigh.

I am sincerely thankful for the friends, writers, teachers, and neighbors
who support, inspire, and indulge me—the always-bright stars in my sky, so numerous they can’t all be named here. Specific gratitude goes to my family: to Dick and Marianne Paterniti; Manny Morgan; Lorraine Martin and Diane Bennekamper; my brothers and their families; the extended Simmons, Corbett, and Paterniti clans; and above all, to my amazing father, Chris Corbett, who gives me shelter in so many ways. I am grateful to others who’ve also kindly provided quiet places to work: Emily and Steve Ward, Melanie and Eliot Cutler, Patty and Cyrus Hagge, Aimee and Mark Bessire. Thanks to those who’ve kept me merry, fed, and generally together during this time: Andy Ward, Jenny Rosenstrach, Joel Lovell, Liz and Pierre Meahl, Lynn Sullivan, Derek Pierce, Andrea Hanson-Carr, Mark Bryant, Alan Liska, Kim Wasco, Ned Flint, Benjamin Busch (the Marine in my basement), Linda Murray, Lane and Brock Clarke, Joe Appel, Carlos Gomez, Angela Weymouth, Michael Seymour, Chris Bowe, and Stuart Gerson, not to mention the ever-vibrant crew of kids and adults at The Telling Room, who again and again remind me that the world is very much okay. And extra-deep thanks to Clare Hertel, Anja Hanson, Hallie Gilman, Susan Calder, Susan Conley, Lily King, Katie Redford, Peggy Orenstein, Sara Needleman, and Melissa McStay—my dear, everyday, lodestar friends.

To my husband, Mike Paterniti, who has shown me that life is much more fun when you dive headfirst and heart-first into everything: Thank you for all of it, big and small. And to our incredible children, exuberant divers-in, all three. I love you very much.

And finally, I’d like to express my love and gratitude to Amanda—for our three-year mind meld, for all you’ve taught me about being strong, for the many psychic miles we have traveled together, for the absolutely tireless way you worked on every line of this book, for staying open, for being a friend. I treasure all of it. I’m proud of what we’ve made together.

*

From Amanda:

I
AM GRATEFUL, FIRST
and foremost, to my mom Lorinda Stewart, and my two dads, John Lindhout and Perry Neitz, for their
Herculean efforts to rescue me. I am humbled by their courage and love and have the deepest appreciation for what they have endured, the sacrifices made. My brothers, Mark Culp and National Lindhout, my grandparents, and the entire Lindhout and Stewart clans were anchors of strength throughout; and following, they have ensconced me in the warm embrace of family, tucking me into their hearts. Aunt Alison—an extra special thank-you. To my godparents, Wendell and Beryl Lund, for the many ways they have cared for me.

To those who have nurtured me, loved me, and encouraged me to play: Zoe, Brenna, Nicola, Zahra.

My dearest friend Kelly—for your generous spirit, your determination, and for giving me a beautiful, smiling goddaughter who delights in the wonders of the world.

In Calgary, Sarah Geddes, David Singleton, Michael Going, and Steve Allan took a stand for me, and because they did, I lived to write this book.

I am reminded, again and again, of the prevalence of generosity and goodness. In Red Deer, Calgary, Sylvan Lake, Rocky Mountain House, Ponoka, Nelson, and across Canada and Australia, people gave generously to bring Nigel and me home. These many kindnesses have shored me up. There are too many people to name, and I wouldn’t want to leave anyone out, but you know who you are. Allan Markin, Gord Scott, Dick Smith, and Bob Brown stand out for special recognition.

To the entire Brennan family for their perseverance and many contributions.

I recognize efforts made by the Government of Canada, RCMP, DFAIT, and CSIS on my behalf. In particular, I’d like to thank Ross Hynes and his lovely wife, Vanessa, for their steadfast devotion to my case. I am forever indebted to Richard, Jonathan, Chris, Matt, Evelyn, and their families.

A successful release would not have been possible without the assistance of AKE, and I am indebted to JC, Ed, Shaun, Alto, and Derek for swooping in to save the day.

I am earnestly learning about trauma recovery and feel gratitude for the education I received at Sierra Tucson on Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. The serenity of the facility and gifted therapists gently helped
me move forward, mindfully, into the sunshine. I am especially thankful to Dr. Mark Pirtle, Joanne Sorenson, and Dr. Judy Gianni.

To Katherine Porterfield, again, for understanding all the parts of this journey. I am so fortunate you held out your hand to help me along. I love you.

Many top-notch professionals have supported my recovery process: the doctors and nurses at The Aga Khan University Hospital in Nairobi, Karen Barker, Dr. Charl de Wet, Patti Mayer, Dr. Tim Kearns, Dr. Lizette Lourens, Dr. Rick Balharry, and the wonderful teachers at the Hoffman Institute Foundation in Canada.

Eckhart Tolle, your teachings, gentle guidance, friendship, and thoughtful insights encourage me and have shaped my perspective in more ways than you could possibly know.

Heather Cummings and João Teixeira de Faria have shown me that anything is possible. Thank you to the generous patrons of the St. Ignatius Fund.

The entire team at the Global Enrichment Foundation, past and present, in Canada, Kenya, and Somalia, for working so very hard with open minds and hearts. I am proud of what we have done together and excited about what the future holds.

To Nigel: As our old friend Thierry once told us at the Baro Hotel, “Many good things.” Wishing you, Nigel, many good things.

And here at the end, to Sara, my coauthor, confidante, and friend, who saw the promise in this project from the very beginning. I am immeasurably grateful. Three years ago we took a leap of faith and began a long journey. Much more then merely writing, we lived this story a thousand different ways together. Without your meticulous intelligence, infinite patience, and precision, I doubt it could have been told. I have the deepest appreciation for your wisdom, your commitment, and your faith in me. My life is infinitely richer because you are in it.