Fear moments The Philippines edition
Alone During a Fake Kidnapping
The farm was remote and the kidnapping was real, at least I thought it was. After the ransom note I heard nothing more from the kidnappers for 4 days. This kept me on edge. I had to be ready for them to show up any moment (logic had fled), and I hid financial cards and important documents in odd places around the house.
They threatened to set the house on fire and kill me if I didn’t cough up the ransom, the waiting was worse than the reality. Staff at the Australian Embassy in Manila tried to get me to a safe house, we didn’t know what we were dealing with at the time. I declined, I couldn’t leave my home, my animals, and B. I thought she was a victim at the time.
The fear was the precursor to the rage I felt once I knew the kids and B were behind the kidnap me plot, a common ploy used to steal money from foreigners in The Philippines. Now I know.
On The Island Too Weak To Live
B was in town and I couldn’t move from my bed. Too weak to stand my will to live had left with the tide. The expat that ran the retreat was someone to avoid, and I would happily have slept forever, then I no longer needed to be afraid anymore.
When B returned a day later, she took look at me and kicked my arse to get me moving. We knew we needed an escape plan from the toxic environment which we did weeks later at great risk.
At The Farm After B Died
The adult kids were terrifying. Their lack of care, empathy and disrespect were something I was super wary about after B died. I was warned by many not to go to the funeral, it wasn’t safe, it was remote and heinous lies were being shared and B was no longer there to control the situation. She had said that she didn’t kill me because she loved me 12 months before she dies. A haunting statement that left me wondering at its origins.
I warned one son to stay away from the farm to leave me alone, when he put his hands out for more than I had already given. I was mad. But even so, for the last nine months I was there I was terrified they would come. It was a wooden home, they already showed me their hatred. A fire was my biggest concern I had a go bag with my passport and wallet next to my bed every night, just in case. They felt entitled.
I had to leave for my sanity.
The Day I left The Farm
The last day there, I drove with friends to the capital Puerto Princesa. They were talking in the backseat as I drove. When I heard the word Abu Sayyaf, I asked them about their conversation.
The farm was 13 km from a popular tourist spot Port Barton. The local gossip (what was essential to listen to) was that Abu Sayyaf had agents in the area looking for foreigners to kidnap for cash. The last known kidnapping had been at the same time as the kidnap me event.
German tourists had been kidnapped in the south, a year later they were found beheaded. These were not people to mess with. The police had been concerned during the kidnap me at the amount on the ransom not. The worry was that Abu Sayyaf would think there was money to be gained at my farm and my safety was compromised.
So when I heard they were so close, I was relieved we were driving away, never to return.
pEace Out