As he neared the end of a posting in Gaza, the BBC's Alan Johnston was seized at gunpoint by militants. Here he tells the full story of his 114 days as a hostage. Through all this I gradually came to know my guards. One of them, a man in his mid-20s called Khamees, with a dark, quite handsome face, would be with me almost every day. Right through to the kidnap's frightening climax. Like many young men who I had met in Gaza, Khamees was the son of a family that had either fled or been driven from their home in what is now Israel. He had been raised in the poverty of one of Gaza's intensely crowded cities, and been drawn to the militant groups that had fought the occupying Israeli army. Khamees had matured into a battle-hardened urban guerrilla. He walked with a limp and had a slightly misshapen torso, the legacy of a wound inflicted by the Israelis. But they were not his only enemy. He had trouble too with both of Gaza's main factions, Hamas and Fatah. He was a wanted man, and he almost never left the succession of flats that were my prisons. He lived confined to the shadows - almost literally, in the second of our hideouts - where the shutters on the windows were kept closed and I did not see the sun for nearly three months. Alan Johnston: My kidnap ordeal
Through all this I gradually came to know my guards.
One of them, a man in his mid-20s called Khamees, with a dark, quite handsome face, would be with me almost every day. Right through to the kidnap's frightening climax.
Like many young men who I had met in Gaza, Khamees was the son of a family that had either fled or been driven from their home in what is now Israel.
He had been raised in the poverty of one of Gaza's intensely crowded cities, and been drawn to the militant groups that had fought the occupying Israeli army.
Khamees had matured into a battle-hardened urban guerrilla.
He walked with a limp and had a slightly misshapen torso, the legacy of a wound inflicted by the Israelis. But they were not his only enemy.
He had trouble too with both of Gaza's main factions, Hamas and Fatah.
He was a wanted man, and he almost never left the succession of flats that were my prisons.
He lived confined to the shadows - almost literally, in the second of our hideouts - where the shutters on the windows were kept closed and I did not see the sun for nearly three months.
Alan Johnston: My kidnap ordeal
Of course, at first glance, there was not much to take heart from in my situation. But the fact was that I had not been killed, and I was not being beaten around. I was being fed reasonably, and I decided that my conditions could have been much, much worse. Whatever else it was, my Gazan incarceration was not what Iraqi prisoners had been forced to endure at Abu Ghraib jail. It was not the Russian Gulag, and it certainly was not the Nazi death camps. I felt that I would not be able to pick up a book again about the Holocaust without feeling a sense of shame, if I were somehow to break down mentally under the very, very, very much easier circumstances of my captivity. I thought too that, unfortunately, every day around the world, people are being told that they have cancer, and that they only have a year or two to live. But the vast majority of them find the strength to face the end of their lives with dignity and courage. I, on the other hand, was just waiting for my life to begin again, and I told myself that it would be shameful if I could not conduct myself with some grace in the face of my much lesser challenge. And in its search for inspiration, my mind took me down what may sound to you like some rather strange paths.
But the fact was that I had not been killed, and I was not being beaten around.
I was being fed reasonably, and I decided that my conditions could have been much, much worse.
Whatever else it was, my Gazan incarceration was not what Iraqi prisoners had been forced to endure at Abu Ghraib jail.
It was not the Russian Gulag, and it certainly was not the Nazi death camps.
I felt that I would not be able to pick up a book again about the Holocaust without feeling a sense of shame, if I were somehow to break down mentally under the very, very, very much easier circumstances of my captivity.
I thought too that, unfortunately, every day around the world, people are being told that they have cancer, and that they only have a year or two to live. But the vast majority of them find the strength to face the end of their lives with dignity and courage.
I, on the other hand, was just waiting for my life to begin again, and I told myself that it would be shameful if I could not conduct myself with some grace in the face of my much lesser challenge.
And in its search for inspiration, my mind took me down what may sound to you like some rather strange paths.
