69 pages • 2 hours read
Lindhout’s isolation deepens as she tries to cope with her separation from Nigel. She finds a small distraction in the daily life of a neighboring family, particularly a young girl named Maya, whose innocent interactions with her mother bring Lindhout some comfort.
She further fills the void of her isolated captivity with the limited reading materials provided by Donald Trump, which include an outdated Times of London student reader, a storybook about twin Muslim boys, and a college catalog meant for Malaysian students. These texts, once objects of mockery between her and Nigel, become her sole connection to a semblance of normal life.
Lindhout’s situation worsens, however, when Abdullah, one of the more menacing guards, begins to exhibit more threatening behavior, and eventually rapes her. Despite the severe emotional and physical trauma, Abdullah threatens Lindhout to keep silent about the attack, saying: “If you speak of this, I will kill you…And I felt sure he would” (209).
As Lindhout tries to cope with the aftermath of the assault, she begins to internalize the trauma, blaming herself for her situation and spiraling into a dark state where she contemplates suicide. To combat her despair, Lindhout forces herself to maintain a routine of walking around her room. She creates a mantra for herself, “I will get out of here. I will be okay” (211), which she repeats as she walks, trying to build her physical and mental strength.
During one of Donald Trump’s visits, Lindhout takes a risk and informs him about Abdullah’s actions, describing them as haram, or forbidden, under Islamic law. Donald Trump’s reaction is unsettling; he acknowledges her distress but implies that such behavior, while not obligatory, is permissible under the circumstances. His response reflects a rigid interpretation of Islamic texts that justifies the abuse, which leaves Lindhout feeling even more isolated and unprotected.
Lindhout and Nigel’s bond deepens into a deep friendship, as they find solace in their window conversations amidst the overwhelming isolation imposed by their captors. Lindhout grapples with a palpable hatred for Abdullah, whose unpredictable visits are marked by cruelty and violence, driving her to fantasize about retaliation.
Both Lindhout and Nigel receive a care package from Canada, containing essential supplies like medicine, books, including Nelson Mandela’s autobiography, and personal care items. This package, while uplifting, underscores the grim reality that their release might not be imminent. Lindhout finds particular resonance with Nelson Mandela’s autobiography, drawing strength from his reflections on resilience during his long imprisonment.
In a moment of vulnerability, Lindhout communicates with Nigel through a note left in the bathroom, expressing her deep emotional distress and subtly indicating that she has been experiencing unwanted visits from someone in the afternoons. She avoids delving into the painful specifics, though, not wanting to burden Nigel further or solidify the reality of her abuse.
Lindhout describes an abrupt relocation orchestrated by her captors. Late at night, Hassam wakes her, demanding she quickly dress and follow him, igniting a brief but intense hope of release. She is instead escorted to a car, where the atmosphere is tense and her questions about their destination and Nigel’s whereabouts go unanswered. The car journey deepens her fears as she is driven to a remote desert location under the guard of Ahmed, Abdullah, and others, including Donald Trump, who is a key figure among the captors.
Her initial hope turns to dread as she interprets the journey as potentially her final moments, fearing she might be sold or killed if a ransom is not paid. This fear intensifies when they stop in the desert, where she experiences a mock execution. Donald Trump intervenes, however, suggesting her family has one more week to meet the ransom demand of $1 million, which emphasizes the urgency and her perilous situation. The chapter concludes with a dire phone call to her mother.
The chapter documents a distressing phone call between Lindhout and her mother, Lorinda Stewart, facilitated by one of Lindhout’s captors, Adam Abdule Osman. This call is legally intercepted by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.
During the conversation with her mother, Lindhout tries to convey the gravity of her circumstances and her potential imminent death if a ransom of $1 million is not paid within a week. Her mother tries to reassure her, emphasizing their efforts to raise the demanded amount and urging Lindhout to stay strong.
Lindhout recounts her ordeal following a mock execution by her captors, designed to terrorize her. Exhausted and shaken, she confides in Nigel about the night’s events, omitting the most harrowing details to protect him. As they share their fears, it becomes clear they are entering a more dangerous phase with their captors. Nigel advises Lindhout to prepare for the worst by organizing her final messages for her family. He offers to deliver these messages should he survive their ordeal.
As December progresses, Lindhout observes the Eid celebrations, further highlighting her isolation and the cultural chasm between her and her captors. Despite their grim situation, Lindhout and Nigel find a semblance of solace in each other’s company and decide to make the best of the Christmas holiday. They engage in heartwarming activities to lift each other’s spirits, including crafting handmade gifts and singing carols. Nigel constructs a unique bracelet from tuna can pop-tops and a Christmas stocking, while Lindhout makes a doll from a cough syrup bottle.
Lindhout describes the meticulous planning and execution of her escape attempt with Nigel from captivity. The idea begins when Nigel, studying a seemingly secure window in the bathroom, notices that the bricks and bars could potentially be manipulated. Despite Lindhout’s initial skepticism due to the high risks involved, they proceed with the plan, driven by desperation after the murder of three fellow Somali captives.
Their escape plan involves discreetly loosening the mortar and bars of the bathroom window over several days. Lindhout describes a critical moment when she tries to exit through the partially dismantled window: “It worked until it didn’t: I pushed myself back and felt my rear end jam up against one of the bars still in the window. I pushed again but went nowhere” (254). This setback momentarily halts their plan, but they quickly regroup and make their move under the cover of darkness, with Lindhout dressed in a hijab and Nigel disguised as much as possible.
The environment outside is not as they had visualized, and they encounter unexpected obstacles. The chapter ends as they make a break for freedom, racing against time and the imminent threat of recapture.
Lindhout and Nigel seek refuge in a mosque after escaping. However, their captors, Hassam and Abdullah, follow them into the mosque. In a chaotic scene, Lindhout and Nigel plead with the worshippers for protection, declaring their Muslim faith and their plight. Amidst the chaos, a local woman extends a compassionate hand to Lindhout, declaring, “You are a Muslim? You are my sister then” (263). The woman bravely advocates for Lindhout after finding out about her abuse and rape, stirring the congregation with impassioned pleas in Somali, which causes a temporary shift in the atmosphere.
The relative calm is, however, shattered when the captors’ leaders, Ahmed and Donald Trump, burst into the mosque. Their arrival intensifies the situation, leading to gunfire and panic, which disperses the crowd and allows the captors to seize Lindhout.
Despite the woman’s efforts, Lindhout is forcibly removed from the mosque. In a final act of defiance and desperation, Lindhout recites the first surah (or chapter) of the Quran loudly, appealing to the bystanders’ shared faith and humanity, but finds no help as she is taken back into captivity.
In this part, the author details the evolving dynamics of her captivity, focusing on escape plans, interactions with captors, and the psychological toll of prolonged detainment. Lindhout again uses sensory details to convey her experiences. For instance, in Chapter 24, she describes the environment with phrases like “the hot, lazy hours” (205) and “the tin roof over my head moaned and expanded under the afternoon sun” (207), which not only establish the setting but also enhance the oppressive atmosphere of her captivity. Descriptions of the physical setting in Chapter 25, such as the “sea-foam-green paint” (210) and “straw-colored light” (211) reflect her shifting perception of her environment—as unchanged yet entirely different due to her transformed self. In Chapter 26, Lindhout’s detailed account of her physical position to speak to Nigel, “standing on the balls of my feet with my neck craned toward the window grate” (219), not only paints a clear picture but also conveys her desperate need for human connection.
Similarly, in Chapter 27, her reference to the feel of the desert sand through her jeans and the sight of the bonfires dotting the landscape highlights the stark contrast between her internal chaos and the external calm of the desert night. In Chapter 30, when she describes the window in the bathroom as “a screen made of bricks with a few decorative gaps in between them” (245) and the metal bars as “laid horizontally in front of the bricks” (245), she conveys viscerally the barriers that physically and metaphorically imprison her. Phrases like “the mortar between them crumbled at my touch, coming away in small cascades of white dust” not only provide tactile imagery but also symbolize the fragile nature of their hope (248). When referring to her and Nigel’s escape plan in Chapter 31, she describes the environment as a “landscape we’d spent hours conjuring in our minds” (257), which is then suddenly filled with “a few nervous goats” (257) and “a donkey lashed to a cart” (257).
Lindhout’s detailed recounting of small acts of resistance and moments of human connection, such as creating gifts from available materials for Nigel, humanize both her and Nigel amidst the depersonalizing conditions of captivity. Lindhout uses metaphor to enhance the narrative’s emotional depth. For instance, in Chapter 25, she describes herself as a “ghost wandering the ruins of a wrecked city” (210), which vividly conveys her feelings of displacement and alienation. This metaphor illustrates her mental state and speaks to The Psychological Impact of Captivity.
In Chapter 27, the structure of Lindhout’s narrative reflects her challenges and inner state when she describes being abruptly woken up and told to dress quickly without explanation. Her use of short, clipped dialogue and terse sentences, such as “Get up, we are going” (227) and “Yes, yes, fast, now” (227) conveys the urgency and confusion of the moment. Similarly, the structure in Chapter 31 is notably frantic, which mirrors the chaos of her escape attempt. Short, choppy sentences and paragraphs convey a sense of urgency and disarray, conveying the immediacy of the moment. For instance, sentences like “[W]e ran and he chased, but now I was fast and light, shedding my flip-flops as I moved” (260) accelerate the pace and amplify the tension, which mimics Lindhout’s racing thoughts and rapid movements.
Lindhout’s tone throughout this section is notably mixed, reflecting a range of emotional states from hope to despair. This tonal variation is used to reflect her fluctuating psychological state and highlights The Role of Hope in Survival Strategies. Her tone shifts from casual and conversational, as seen in her interactions with Nigel in Chapter 26, “Okay, talk to you later” (219) or “I’m going to eat my food now” (219), to more intense and introspective, as when discussing her feelings of power and the strange, burgeoning energy she notices in herself. This shift is crucial for showing her resilience and vulnerability. The use of first-person narrative enhances this effect, making her fear, panic, and fleeting moments of relief intensely personal and relatable. Emotional expressions such as “the most comfort I’d known in half a year” (263) in Chapter 31, and her interactions with the Somali woman who tries to help her, situate the plot on a human level that transcends the mere facts of the situation.
Lindhout furthermore provides substantial context about the setting and characters. In Chapter 24, she describes the neighbor’s child and the mother’s routine, offering a stark contrast to her own situation, which amplifies the sense of isolation and captivity. Reference to Nigel engaging in yoga and their captors’ response in Chapter 26 provides a rare glimpse of shared humanity, however fleeting and bizarre in the context of their situation. Descriptions of the mosque, the crowd, and the community’s reaction to her and Nigel’s presence in Chapter 31 are laden with cultural significance, which indicates the social dynamics at play.
Similarly, characters are sketched through their actions and minimal yet impactful dialogue, which reveals their motivations and personalities. For instance, the protective actions of the Somali woman provide insight into the varying human responses to crisis. The use of dialogue also serves to develop characters viscerally. For instance, in Chapter 28, Lindhout’s exchanges with her mother, Lorinda Stewart, and Adam Abdule Osman, the intermediary, convey a stark contrast between desperation and detachment. Lindhout’s words, “[I]f you guys don’t pay (sobs) one million dollars for me, by one week, they will kill me, okay?” expose her vulnerability and desperation (235).
Plus, gain access to 8,800+ more expert-written Study Guides.
Including features:
Canadian Literature
View Collection
Inspiring Biographies
View Collection
Journalism Reads
View Collection
New York Times Best Sellers
View Collection
Popular Book Club Picks
View Collection
Safety & Danger
View Collection
Sexual Harassment & Violence
View Collection
The Best of "Best Book" Lists
View Collection