Kidnappings persist, block peace efforts

 BY KEVIN G. HALL
 Herald World Staff

 BOGOTA, Colombia -- At the studio of Radiodifusora Nacional, families cram in to send messages over the airwaves to loved ones kidnapped and held somewhere in Colombia. A sign advises: ``It's best not to cry when you are sending your message.''

 Easier said than done, not just for families of kidnap victims, but for a nation inching dangerously closer to a broader war in its four-decade guerrilla conflict.

 With Colombia approaching 9,000 abductions during the past three years, the kidnappings now stand as a critical stumbling block in Colombia's so-far unrewarding
 search for peace. President Andrés Pastrana warned rebels late last month that if the kidnappings don't stop, the peace process would.

 Camilo Gómez, the Colombian government's peace negotiator with the largest rebel group, FARC, called the explosion in kidnappings ``the main enemy'' of the process.

 ``Kidnapping has no political justification,'' he said. ``There is not a single justification for a crime like these kidnappings and extortion. In this, the Colombia guerrillas have erred profoundly.''

 In many countries, kidnapping is used to make a political statement. But in Colombia's guerrilla wars, it is primarily a cold and calculated business enterprise, a trade in flesh and family agony used to finance insurgency.

 ``It is believed they receive more than $350 million annually from kidnapping, and this number is an estimate -- it could be higher,'' said David Buitrago, legal director of the Bogotá-based Free Country Foundation, which provides legal help and counseling for kidnap victims and their families.

 FARC -- the Spanish acronym for the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, Latin America's largest Marxist rebel group -- funds itself through kidnappings and drug cultivation. The smaller National Liberation Army, or ELN, depends almost exclusively on kidnappings for funding.

 The two groups account for about 80 percent of all Colombian kidnappings, experts say, and are served through private crime networks to augment their own guerrilla-led kidnappings.

 FARC and other groups have called proceeds from the kidnappings a ``war tax'' and say it is a legitimate tactic in battling the government.

 FARC did respond to recent pressure by promising Oct. 5 to end so-called ``miracle fishing'': blocking a highway and kidnapping everyone who is stopped in hopes of netting some ``big fish'' who can pay handsome ransoms. Despite the promise, a miracle fishing kidnapping was reported the very next day, and kidnappings and other violence have continued throughout October.

 Meanwhile, Colombians avoid traveling outside of cities. The wealthy hire bodyguards. And the families of those kidnapped suffer.

 Kidnapping is not limited to the rich. ``One thinks it won't happen to us because we are the middle class. It was seen as something affecting the very rich,'' said Mayibe Ardila, whose husband Armando was nabbed Feb. 12 of last year, in a miracle fishing roadblock. ``It's a terrible blow, hard to describe, a mix of feelings at the moment of desperation, anguish, total dislocation, you don't know what to do.''

 Ardila did as told by the FARC negotiator who called days after the kidnapping. She delivered a ransom worth thousands of dollars -- she wouldn't be more specific about the amount. With her two children, aged 13 and 8, she awaited the release of her husband. He didn't come home.

 Psychologists say families of the kidnapped in many ways are kidnapped too, even if they are not physically held captive.

 Alfredo Cifuentes agrees. His in-laws, Gerardo Angulo and Carmen Rosa Castañeda, were kidnapped April 19, 2000, despite each being more than 70 years old.

 ``This affects the whole family,'' Cifuentes said.

 Cifuentes spoke outside the radio studio where his 13-year-old son Said recorded a message to his grandparents.

 The messages heard on Radiodifusora Nacional and other national radio networks are now commonplace. During a recording session in early October, family members told missing loved ones about baptisms, discussed milestones in their children's lives and read inspirational passages of scripture.

 Most could not say for certain that their loved ones were alive, but they know that many who have been freed reported listening to the radio messages during captivity.

 ``Initially it was really terrible. . . listening to messages for people you don't know,'' recalls a 19-year-old who was recently released after 10 months as a hostage. ``But later it becomes a necessity. It becomes your tie to the world.''

                                    © 2001