‘A GIFT I CAN DRAW ON’
Terry Waite reveals how we can all make the most of this new isolation
For some, the prospect of spending t he coming f ew weeks in isolation is frightening. We all are social animals and accustomed to being with other people. Now, because of the lockdown, it seems that the only contact many will have will be through the internet, or via the telephone. Perhaps the occasional face- to- face conversation at a distance of two metres. Only a very few will be totally cut off from all contact with others.
Since the lockdown began this week, I have decided to stay at the home we’ve had in Suffolk, England, for more than 20 years. My wife is in London to be near children and grandchildren, and so I am totally alone. As I have passed my 80th birthday, I don’t have to worry about my job, as many people will. All my engagements for the coming year have been cancelled or postponed, and so I suddenly find that I have the time to enjoy the solitude — and, to be frank, I do.
My years spent in captivity have given me a gift that I am now able to draw on. I have the time to write and so I have started a new book. I have the time to listen to music that I can so easily access online. As well as being an Anglican, I am a member of the society of friends, the Quakers, and last Sunday we met to share an hour of silence together on the web. This may sound strange, but it was a remarkably peaceful and healing experience. I recollect thinking during my captivity that my life was now totally wasted. How wrong I was. In many ways, it proved to be one of the most enriching experiences of my life — although it certainly didn’t feel like it at the time.
It is more than 30 years ago since I was taken captive by Hezbollah in Beirut, while there as a special envoy working for the release of Western hostages. No one can do that sort of job without knowing that, one day, things might go wrong. In 1987, they went wrong for me and I found myself in a tiled cell, deep underground. I spent the next 1,763 days chained to the wall and, apart from the last few weeks, I was totally alone.
For the first weeks, I was kept underground. Then I was moved to a bombed-out building. I slept on a thin mattress on the floor. I had one visit to the bathroom a day, and that only lasted for a few minutes. Metal shutters were placed across the windows, so no natural light entered the room. I had no books or papers and no contact whatsoever with the outside world. When a guard came into the room to bring me a meagre meal, I had to pull a blindfold over my eyes. I didn’t see another human being for years.
Mercifully, lockdown will be nothing near as severe. But there are some things that I learned then which may be of some help to those finding the current situation difficult to bear.
When the cell door closed behind me, I was frightened, just as many are now at what is a totally new experience. I realized quickly that I had to keep hope alive and that was not easy, living under such strict conditions.
Without a doubt, the coronavirus eventually will be defeated and, providing we all keep to the guidelines that have been suggested, the vast majority of us will be safe. When I sat on the floor in the dark and dismal cell, I recall saying to myself: “No self- pity and no over- sentimentality.” I remembered that there were thousands who were in a far worse situation than I was. I still had my life and I was determined to do my best to survive.
I had to learn to live one day at a time; to realize that I still had a life and should live it as fully as possible. I longed for books and so I began to develop my mental capacity and write in my head. My first book, Taken on Trust, was written largely in this way and put down on paper only years later.
In isolation, it is easy to become introspective and depressed. All of us, when we are honest and examine ourselves critically, will discover things about ourselves of which we are not especially proud. I had to learn how to grow a greater acceptance of myself and work toward a deeper inner harmony. There was plenty of time to work on that.
I also knew that it was important to maintain my personal pride. Although there were many times when I was kicked around and tortured, I was determined not to lose what little dignity I could muster. My guards thought I was totally mad when — in those first days of captivity when I still had my own clothes — I would remove my trousers at night and place them under the mattress on the floor to press them.
Today in lockdown, it’s important to keep yourself well. Don’t slob around all day in pyjamas and a dressing gown. Dress properly and develop a routine. It’s important to have a structure — get up at a certain time, eat regular meals and so on. In those far- off days, I wished I could be surrounded by books and music of my choice. Well, today, in lockdown, I have them and what’s more, I have the time to enjoy them. There was little exercise I could do fastened to the wall, but I managed. It’s important not just to sit around all day. A walk is still possible. For many, the exercise bike that has been in store for years could be brought back into service. Place a tablet computer on the handlebars, find a cycle route and off you go through Italy or wherever. In other words, be innovative and keep your imagination alive.
In my final days of captivity, I fell seriously ill with a bronchial infection. I was given no medication, but my captors decided to move me out of solitary and put me in with three other hostages. I could not lie down and so sat, day and night, with my back resting against the wall. At night, when I was fighting to get my breath, the American journalist Terry Anderson stretched as far as his chains would allow and simply placed his hand over mine. Just to know that he cared brought me tremendous comfort.
A crisis such as the one we are all experiencing brings out the best and the worst in people. Fortunately, the best far outweighs the worst, as we have seen in the large numbers of people who have volunteered to help the vulnerable. Remember, there are hands stretching out to support you. Most people do care.
Take this time of restriction as an opportunity, one that may never come again in your lifetime. Now you can do many of the things you have been promising yourself to do for years.
I’ve never believed that if one has religious belief then that means one will have special protection for the ills that afflict all humankind. But if you have faith, then that will give you resources to draw on. As a chorister in my youth, unconsciously I learned many of the hymns, psalms and prayers by heart. When I was captured, they were there to call on.
Looking back, I certainly would not want to pass through the experience of captivity again. It was hard. However, in a strange sort of way I can be grateful for it. Although I didn’t fully realize it at the time, I was growing up inwardly. I was developing gifts I never knew I had.
This world is full of suffering and we don’t have to look for it. It will find us all in one way or another. When it does, remember that in most cases suffering need not destroy. It is possible for something unexpected to emerge from it. In solitude we are in fact together.
So, keep hope alive and don’t allow despair to destroy a difficult but potentially creative period of your life.
NOW YOU CAN DO MANY OF THE THINGS YOU HAVE BEEN PROMISING YOURSELF TO DO FOR YEARS.