Libertad-Prensa.org
An Ounce of Prevention
By Javier Sierra
On an American farm, a group of journalists learns how to survive the dangers of our profession.
Woodstock, USA, Nov. 1, 2001 - The Virginia landscape glitters dressed in October colors, a rainbow of earthy, orange and yellow hues. It is autumn in the Shenandoah Mountains, but summer lingers on amid the stunning scenery.
Nevertheless, a group of 20 journalists from various parts of the world, fidgeting in their bus seats, have not come to Virginia to contemplate the scenery or to enjoy the weather. They have come to prepare themselves for the worst, and little do they know that the first test is just around the corner.
No one has noticed the black van pursuing them at a distance, whose driver is informing his accomplices of the bus's every movement.
"It's going down the slope and nearing the bridge," he says in a heavy British accent.
The journalists, five of them from Latin America, without the slightest suspicion, chat about their long trips to this isolated rural place, about 160 Km. east of Washington.
"It's on the bridge. Everybody get ready!"
The guns are loaded and the adrenaline is pumping.
"It's 20 meters from the gate."
Suddenly, an enormous explosion on the left of the road halts the vehicle and everyone turns their heads in that direction. An instant later, several masked figures, shooting in the air, run towards the vehicle, enter the bus hurling insults and obscenities, order everyone to get down in their seats, and in a few brief seconds, the journalists find themselves with guns pressed to their temples and their heads covered with hoods.
The deafening noise of the shots and yells give way to absolute silence, interrupted only by the kidnappers' snapping fingers as they pass messages back and forth to one another.
The bus leaves again, very slowly. The victims have their heads down and their hands on the seats in front of them, and each time a finger moves, a gun presses against the temple of the troublemaker. The black van follows them.
Soon after the bus comes to a halt, the abducted journalists are taken down one by one and arranged in a single line, resting their hands on the shoulders of the person in front. The line begins to move clumsily. The stumbling increases, the journalists' breathing becomes more and more agitated.
They are forced to lie face down on the ground, still wet with the morning dew. Then their belongings, money, jewelry, passports, are taken from them. No one is allowed to move.
Fear seems to make the minutes drag on the clock. Half an hour has passed since the abduction. The end of the ordeal is near.
And it happens unexpectedly. One of the "kidnappers" pulls back the hoods one by one, telling the "kidnapped" that it is over. It was only an exercise.
Welcome to the Hostile Environments Course by Centurion Risk Assessment Services, the British company that is the world leader in this type of training for professionals who work in dangerous situations, especially journalists.
Since Centurion launched its courses on the outskirts of London more than six years ago, about 7,500 journalists have undergone the training, 250 of them from Latin America.
"We conduct six courses a month in the United Kingdom and up to two a month in the United States," says Paul Rees, director and founder of Centurion, who adds that demand has gone up since the September 11th attacks, especially for courses on defense against chemical and biological weapons.
The company began its training courses in the Americas one year ago, on the banks of the Shenandoah River at a farm owned by the Massanuten Military Academy in Woodstock. Journalists from Argentina, Bolivia, Chile, Colombia, El Salvador, Mexico, Peru, and Venezuela, as well as from the United States and Canada, have graduated from the Woodstock courses.
The five Latin Americans taking part in this particular one are now having coffee and talking with each other in order to shake the scare out of their minds. One of them, a freelance photographer from Colombia whom we will call Martin, was kidnapped for real twice in his country.
Already in the classroom, the purpose of the "kidnapping," says Mick Down, a veteran of the United Kingdom's Royal Marines, like the rest of the instructors, is to experience the shock of being kidnapped, of losing control over one's fate, and to learn to control one's emotions.
During the class, Down asks Martin to share his experiences. And so he does, through an interpreter, but at the end he has to leave the classroom overcome with emotion.
"My head was throbbing from the memories.," he said later. "Not all of us emerge from a kidnapping and today those memories came back with intensity."
The course also allows journalists to familiarize themselves with weapons that are typically found on a battlefield, ranging from grenades and pistols to mortars, assault rifles such as the AK-47 and the M-16, and machine guns like the M-60. The instructors explain how they work, the devastating damage that they can cause in the human body, and above all, how to protect yourself from them.
"Here, one learns how to observe," says a Colombian television reporter who covers the war in her country. "It is very useful because when I return to covering the stories that I always covered before, I will be more aware of the dangers of a combat zone. I wasn't aware of them before. Now I am."
Later, the group puts its knowledge to the test in an exercise where they are the targets of several "ambushes." While they advance on a trail, they hear sounds simulating various weapons, from which they must protect themselves and know how to identify.
The great emphasis of the course, however, is first aid, which makes up about 50% of the curriculum. The purpose is not to give students a course in medicine, but to convert them into emergency firstaiders capable of saving the life of a colleague with knowledge as basic as it is valuable.
The students learn that almost 40% of people who die en route to the hospital could be saved only if they receive basic first aid care, including most importantly, assuring the casualty's airway is open. They also learn how to examine the casualty, to evaluate the severity of the injuries, and to treat any kind of bleed, from a cut to an amputation.
This knowledge, of course, requires practice. And the instructors, playing the roles of casualties, stage enormously realistic situations, worthy of a Hollywood movie, which test not only the journalists' preparation, but their cool under pressure as well.
It is Friday afternoon, and the one-week course is almost over. It is time to review, and the consensus among the students is that the difference between what they knew on Monday about hostile environments and what they know today is abysmal.
"Once they return to work, we hope the students will remember above all the basic advice," says Rees. "That they carefully investigate the areas they will go to, that they make sure to consult with the local population about possible dangers, and that, if the situation is too dangerous, it is not worth risking your life."
It is valuable advice, especially for those working in Latin America, where at least 15 journalists have lost their lives so far this year.
Javier Sierra is editor of www.libertad-prensa.org, and has helped conduct several Centurion courses.
