hiss at us, using the typical Philippine sound that means “Cut it out! Shut up!” Too much humor was not appropriate in a climate of jihad. But our funny bones were all thoroughly tickled by then and we couldn’t calm down regardless of their scolding. Eventually, we asked Solaiman if we could start making a list of things we needed, not just Letty, but all the women. He agreed and gave us a piece of paper.
Now most people in this situation would probably stick to the basics: soap, shampoo, etc. But oh no—our list looked like we were headed to some kind of mall: Sunsilk for oily hair, Rejoice shampoo with conditioner, Secret solid deodorant, Colgate toothpaste, Close-Up minty fresh toothpaste, Dial soap, various pieces of underwear by size—it was crazy! I sat there chuckling to myself and thinking, Shouldn’t we be just a little more realistic here?
Finally someone turned to me and said, “What do you want?”
“ Any kind of soap would be good,” I replied, “and I think we ought to have a box of amoxicillin.” With sixty of us on this boat built for only ten fishermen, I knew it was just a matter of time before someone got sick.
They then took this long list, which included everything from cologne to bras, to Sabaya. He gave it one glance and handed it back, saying, “Well, figure up how much all this is going to cost.”
Janice took charge of the accounting effort. The estimate came to some 14,000 pesos ($280).
Back to Sabaya again. “Well, you don’t have that much,” he announced. “Of the money we took from your rooms, you get 10 percent, which is only 2,000 pesos. Go back and cut it down.” Faces fell all around as we headed back to try to write a more down-to-earth shopping list.
When that effort was finished, a messenger was sent on a speedboat to head for shore and bring back supplies. He left but never returned. We heard later on the radio that he was spotted in town by the authorities and arrested. We also wondered if perhaps he had defected. Anyway, we got nothing from our list!
* * *
The hardest part of those early days on the boat, of course, was every time my thoughts turned to Jeff and Mindy and Zach. We knew that the mission policy was to evacuate our kids out of the country so as not to leave opportunity for further mischief. But we kept wondering who had told them about our capture, and if they’d flown off to the States yet.
Everything in our lives had been snatched away from us in one swift moment. No one cared that Martin was an excellent pilot, or that I could make a great pizza. We were no longer defined by our ministry or careers; we were just two human beings in the middle of the Sulu Sea with no idea of what would happen next, and no way to influence it.
I sat there and watched the Abu Sayyaf talking to Martin, ordering him around, and thought to myself, You guys don’t even realize what a neat person he is. You’ve got this great guy sitting among you, and you don’t even care.
The boat’s engine conked out from time to time, and guys went below deck to fiddle with it. Sometimes only after they let it cool off did it start again. One night during low tide, we ran aground on a sandbar. It took a lot of work to free us, and I worried about getting stuck there indefinitely. Another night it rained hard for a short time, so all twenty of us hostages retreated to the engine room.
One afternoon, the hostage group amused itself with more singing. “Somebody think of a Disney musical. . . . Mary Poppins ? Okay, what are all the individual songs?” And then we’d sing “A Spoonful of Sugar,” “Let’s Go Fly a Kite,” and anything else we could remember.
Chito, who came from a similar church environment as Martin and me, joined us in singing hymns: “Praise Ye the Lord, the Almighty,” among others. The Abu Sayyaf tolerated our singing, for the moment anyway; they assumed it meant we were happy and content, whereas they hated to see us cry.
Sometime that
Now most people in this situation would probably stick to the basics: soap, shampoo, etc. But oh no—our list looked like we were headed to some kind of mall: Sunsilk for oily hair, Rejoice shampoo with conditioner, Secret solid deodorant, Colgate toothpaste, Close-Up minty fresh toothpaste, Dial soap, various pieces of underwear by size—it was crazy! I sat there chuckling to myself and thinking, Shouldn’t we be just a little more realistic here?
Finally someone turned to me and said, “What do you want?”
“ Any kind of soap would be good,” I replied, “and I think we ought to have a box of amoxicillin.” With sixty of us on this boat built for only ten fishermen, I knew it was just a matter of time before someone got sick.
They then took this long list, which included everything from cologne to bras, to Sabaya. He gave it one glance and handed it back, saying, “Well, figure up how much all this is going to cost.”
Janice took charge of the accounting effort. The estimate came to some 14,000 pesos ($280).
Back to Sabaya again. “Well, you don’t have that much,” he announced. “Of the money we took from your rooms, you get 10 percent, which is only 2,000 pesos. Go back and cut it down.” Faces fell all around as we headed back to try to write a more down-to-earth shopping list.
When that effort was finished, a messenger was sent on a speedboat to head for shore and bring back supplies. He left but never returned. We heard later on the radio that he was spotted in town by the authorities and arrested. We also wondered if perhaps he had defected. Anyway, we got nothing from our list!
* * *
The hardest part of those early days on the boat, of course, was every time my thoughts turned to Jeff and Mindy and Zach. We knew that the mission policy was to evacuate our kids out of the country so as not to leave opportunity for further mischief. But we kept wondering who had told them about our capture, and if they’d flown off to the States yet.
Everything in our lives had been snatched away from us in one swift moment. No one cared that Martin was an excellent pilot, or that I could make a great pizza. We were no longer defined by our ministry or careers; we were just two human beings in the middle of the Sulu Sea with no idea of what would happen next, and no way to influence it.
I sat there and watched the Abu Sayyaf talking to Martin, ordering him around, and thought to myself, You guys don’t even realize what a neat person he is. You’ve got this great guy sitting among you, and you don’t even care.
The boat’s engine conked out from time to time, and guys went below deck to fiddle with it. Sometimes only after they let it cool off did it start again. One night during low tide, we ran aground on a sandbar. It took a lot of work to free us, and I worried about getting stuck there indefinitely. Another night it rained hard for a short time, so all twenty of us hostages retreated to the engine room.
One afternoon, the hostage group amused itself with more singing. “Somebody think of a Disney musical. . . . Mary Poppins ? Okay, what are all the individual songs?” And then we’d sing “A Spoonful of Sugar,” “Let’s Go Fly a Kite,” and anything else we could remember.
Chito, who came from a similar church environment as Martin and me, joined us in singing hymns: “Praise Ye the Lord, the Almighty,” among others. The Abu Sayyaf tolerated our singing, for the moment anyway; they assumed it meant we were happy and content, whereas they hated to see us cry.
Sometime that
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