In the streets of Guatemala City, on the outer edges of today’s war on drugs, Christians hold a growing number of users captive inside Pentecostal drug rehabilitation centers. Inside these makeshift asylums, pastors preach about the slavery of salvation — about how we are all either imprisoned by sin or held captive by Christ (see O’Neill 2017a). “Crack [cocaine] has a hold on me,” one user explained while held inside a onetime factory building. “It has me tied up, and it won’t let go.” Meantime, off the coast of Somalia, atop the Indian Ocean, young men in fiberglass skiffs routinely chase down cargo ships the length of football fields, leaving the crew of such carriers in a state of perpetual unease (see Dua 2013). “At sea you’re always somewhat captive,” explained a crewman, “so being captured by pirates is like a double captivity.” He toggled between the practical and the philosophical, adding: “The first thing the [pirates] did after tak-

中文翻译：

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囚禁：挑衅

在危地马拉城的街道上，在当今毒品战争的外围，基督徒将越来越多的吸毒者囚禁在五旬节派戒毒中心内。在这些临时庇护所内，牧师宣讲救赎的奴隶制——关于我们如何被罪囚禁或被基督俘虏（见 O'Neill 2017a）。“快克 [可卡因] 对我有影响，”一名用户在被关押在一座曾经的工厂大楼内时解释道。“它把我绑起来，它不会松手。” 与此同时，在索马里海岸附近的印度洋上，穿着玻璃纤维小艇的年轻人经常追赶足足有足球场那么长的货船，让这些承运人的船员永远处于不安状态（见 Dua 2013）。“在海上，你总是有点被俘虏，”一名船员解释说，“所以被海盗俘虏就像双重俘虏。