It is 2am on Sunday and the phones never stop ringing at the Caracol radio station in northern Bogota. The light banter that normally entertains listeners to the graveyard shift is missing. This weekly radio programme, Voices of Kidnapping, reaches out to the thousands of hostages held by illegal armed groups across Colombia.
”A warm welcome, wherever you are, to all hostages held in the mountains and jungles of Colombia,” says Herbin Hoyos, the host and veteran war journalist.
Esperanza Moreno is one of the first callers to get through. Her son was kidnapped seven years ago by the leftwing guerrilla group the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (Farc). She does not know whether he is listening, or even if he is alive, but she regularly calls the programme. ”I love you with all my heart. Keep strong,” she says.
She begs the guerrillas to release her son. ”Give us some news, even just a letter.” The Moreno family has received no news for two years. The uncertainty and desperation is evident in her wavering voice.
”One minute left,” interjects the show’s host. It is at this point that Moreno, like most callers, breaks down.
The Voices of Kidnapping programme is the only way for families to communicate with some of the 4 200 hostages in Colombia. For the next three hours, about 250 callers will send messages of comfort and hope. Families of foreign hostages held in Colombia call from abroad, leaving messages in foreign languages.
They also talk about daily life: how the kids are doing at school, what they did over the weekend. At first their messages are upbeat, but ultimately their composed voices give way to a tangible sense of profound sadness and hopelessness.
”Over the years, the programme has become a brutal record of people’s lives,” says Hoyos. The host understands the anguish that hostages experience. He was abducted by Farc 13 years ago. His time in captivity inspired him to launch the radio programme.
Kidnap victims do listen to the programme. Framed letters of gratitude sent by released hostages, once avid listeners to the show, hang on the studio walls. And the radio programme has saved lives. ”Released hostages have told me that listening to the show was the only thing that stood between them and suicide. It gave them the strength to carry on living,” says Hoyos.
The programme aids the guerrillas too. After months of captivity, many hostages begin to lose the will to live, and refuse to eat. ”A dead hostage is a useless one,” says Hoyos. ”If it means keeping them alive, Farc allows them to listen to the show.” As a result, improvised radios have become a vital part of the guerrillas’ kidnapping kit.
Since the launch of Voices of Kidnapping in 1991 more than 15000 people have been kidnapped in Colombia, of whom about 1 900 have died in captivity. Traditionally, Farc has been responsible for the majority of kidnappings but lately common criminals are snatching a greater share of the profits, estimated to be worth more than $200-million a year.
Paying a hefty ransom normally guarantees a hostage’s release. But those kidnapped for political motives have little hope. They are used as bargaining chips in a war of attrition between the Colombian government and Farc. The government has repeatedly rejected Farc’s offer to swap dozens of hostages, including United States citizens and Ingrid Betancourt, a former presidential candidate, for scores of guerrilla members held in state prisons. — Â