For 29 hours, beginning the morning of August 7, 29 Witness for Peace (WFP) members, 14 journalists, and nine Nicaraguan crew members were held hostage by contras in Costa Rica.
Before the Witness for Peace team left Managua to travel the San Juan River, which separates Nicaragua and Costa Rica, they received indication that their trip would be dangerous. On Sunday, August 4, Eden Pastora, leader of the Revolutionary Democratic Alliance (ARDE) contra force, said his soldiers would shoot at Witness for Peace members on the river. After much prayerful consideration, the team decided to go ahead with its "Peace Flotilla."
They left El Castillo, Nicaragua, on Tuesday, August 6, and began heading down the river to La Penca. They spent the evening there and were on their way back to El Castillo on Wednesday, August 7, when a shot was fired across their boat and contras pulled them over to the Costa Rican side of the river. When the team was released the next morning—unharmed—we were extremely grateful.
On August 15, in our Washington, B.C. offices, we interviewed Ed Griffin-Nolan, co-coordinator of WFP in Managua, who was among those taken hostage, and his wife Elizabeth Griffin-Nolan, Managua coordinator of short-term delegations, who worked throughout the crisis in the Managua office of Witness for Peace.
The story behind the incident and a full accounting of the kidnapping and the identity of their captors follows. —The Editors
Sojourners: How was the project to take a Witness for Peace delegation on the San Juan River conceived?
Ed Griffin-Nolan: It was a response to events on May 31, when two members of the Costa Rican Civil Guard were killed in an attack on the San Juan River in a place called Las Crucitas. There was a lot of accusation on the part of Costa Rica that Nicaraguan troops had come across the border. There was an investigation by the Organization of American States (OAS) and the Contadora nations, and eventually the Nicaraguans were absolved of responsibility.
There was a good deal of confusion and hostility on the border. And seeing the way that the United States had played up this attack, the increase in U.S. military aid, and the eagerness of the United States to push Costa Rica into a more belligerent position regarding Nicaragua made us reflect on the danger of a provocation on the border that could result in larger U.S. military intervention and also the militarization of Costa Rica.
We thought that if, as Witness for Peace and as U.S. citizens, we could have a role in being a peaceful presence on the border, we could perhaps take away that kind of pretext the United States could use for making Costa Rica a base for its war against Nicaragua. So we began to reflect, to pray, and to look for ways in which we could be down there.
We decided that we would try going into that area with the first delegation in August—the New York delegation. They were also very excited about trying this kind of action. So we conceived of the project as a way to pray for peace as we do in all the war zones of Nicaragua and to remember those who have died on both sides. This was not just an activity to support peace in Nicaragua, but also to recognize the Costa Rican desire for peace, that they have also lost people to this war. We also wanted to support the various gestures that were being made through the Contadora process from Nicaragua and Costa Rica and that were designed to reduce the tensions in the zones.
Sojourners: In this area where the river is the border between Nicaragua and Costa Rica, had there been conflict or hostilities for a long time?
Ed: For the past three years or so there have been conflicts. Eden Pastora's contra group, the Revolutionary Democratic Alliance [ARDE], had been attacking on the Pacific and Atlantic sides of the Costa Rican border. And now the contras are more regularly moving across the river from Costa Rica.
Sojourners: So as you were about to begin your journey, there was a threat.
Ed: Right. Eden Pastora of ARDE accused us of being "wolves in sheep's clothing" and false prophets. He issued a threat that if we were to go down the river, his men had orders to fire upon us. That came over the news; we heard about it from a reporter who called our office at 10 o'clock Sunday night, August 4.
The next morning the group met, the short-term delegation and long-term team members [WFP members with a six-month commitment in Nicaragua], and discussed the new danger.
Elizabeth Griffin-Nolan: The threat had a very sobering effect on the group. They decided to go ahead, but after a very open discussion about their fears. One woman in particular said it was one thing to envision going on this trip with a general risk that a bullet might hit you. But it felt like an entirely different thing to envision a bullet with the name of Witness for Peace on it.
Ed: In light of the threat, we needed to reevaluate the situation. We reflected and prayed and felt that all of us should continue the journey to El Castillo, the last point on the river that is still bordered on both sides by Nicaragua. Downriver from El Castillo is where we ran the danger of running into contra forces on the Costa Rican side.
By noon on Tuesday, August 6, we left El Castillo and headed down the river. There was still some nervousness, but we were anxious and excited to be going. The mood on the boat was of hope, as we began to head down the river and stop for prayer at different places.
We also stopped at Boca San Carlos and talked to the Costa Rican border guards. We told them that we came in peace and that our mission was to offer an open hand, a presence for peace on the border. We left an offering of flowers and sang a song and offered a prayer with them.
We traveled most of the way singing, talking among ourselves and with the press who came along. One of the ironies is that when we were eventually stopped the next day, the leader of the contras said that they saw us go down the day before, and they didn't stop us because we were singing so beautifully.
We also talked to the Nicaraguan soldiers at La Penca. We sang a song and prayed for them, with them. And they sang a song back to us. Then we started back upriver. And we thought, "We did it. We've gone all the way down the river and now we're just heading back." That was on Tuesday evening, and it was just about five o'clock when we got back to Boca San Carlos, where we spent the night.
The next morning, Wednesday, August 7, we'd been traveling about two hours when there was a shot. I found out later it was 7:45 a.m. And we hit the deck. It was only about 10 seconds when we realized it was one shot, and the captain was already pulling the boat over to the Costa Rican side.
We saw three men on the shore, one in particular in a green suit who was waving us over and holding a machine gun. We pulled over, got up on the shore, and began talking to them. A reporter asked who they were with. And I remember him saying, "We're ARDE."
I said, "We're a group of Christians from the United States, traveling down the river to pray for peace and commemorate those who've died to support peace in the zone." And he said, "Oh, well maybe we'd like to talk to you." And I said, "We'd very much like to talk to you. We've talked to everyone we've met along the way."
It was in that spirit that we presented ourselves. And they said, "Well, our leader wants to talk to you. Everyone out of the boat." There was a lot of anxiety, but people were organized into affinity groups and just got off the boat, hands locked together. Within a half hour, they had us all out and walking along the trail up through the mud into the jungle. We didn't know where we were going.
They took us up to a house, after walking about an hour and 15 minutes. I guess it was about 9:30 a.m. when we got to this house, and I was talking to the leader when we got there. He said they were going to have to keep us there until he heard from his commander to decide what would be done with us. So there wasn't much to do but wait.
We spent our time talking to the men who were holding us. We talked about their experience in ARDE, why they joined the contras and why they were with ARDE. One had a brother who had been a National Guardsman under Somoza [the deposed dictator whose National Guard served as an apparatus of terror against Nicaraguan civilians]. He was in jail for 23 years because of his activities with Somoza. And his brother was resentful of that. Another apparently had had a small farm, and his major complaint was that the Sandinistas were always trying to form cooperatives.
After a while we asked if we could go back down to the boat to make a radio communication telling people in Managua where we were and what had happened and also to get some food and water, because we hadn't brought any drinking water with us. They agreed to that.
Sojourners: Let's back up for a minute and hear from Elizabeth the side of the story from Managua—when the shot was fired.
Elizabeth: Our hearing of the capture was very much connected to the two days before. When they left to go down the river, we knew that this was a particularly dangerous undertaking. So all the other long-term people were all together, which was rare. We were all together working, because we knew that there would be the need to do press work and a lot of support work.
A number of us were very afraid, so we spent a lot of time together in prayer. We felt very, very connected to the people on the boat.
On Tuesday night, the night before the capture, we were in a very celebratory mood. We had evening vespers and were all practically laughing all during the reflections, saying, "It's half over. We've done it."
The next morning, we were gathering for reflection, and that's when the word came from Warren Armstrong that a shot had just gone across the boat. We all gathered and stood around the radio.
Just before Warren put down the radio on the boat, he said, "We'll need to go off." And Pat Manning replied, "Can you stay by the radio?" He answered, "No." Then she asked, "Can you leave the radio on?" And he said, "Correcta, correcta." They all got off the boat, and we stood and listened to what seemed like shots. We had a vision of everybody lying in the river and blood.
After about 15 minutes or so, suddenly one of us said, "We haven't heard any shouting, any screaming." So our only hope during that period was that, if they had truly been shot, we would have heard screaming.
We were all standing somewhat in shock and just holding each other or walking and not knowing what to do. At one point one person, I think, embodied all of our pain. He just screamed and ran out of the office and down the street. The pain of it was just too much for him. He started shaking a tree and screaming. He was embodying what we all were feeling.
Then the radio wasn't picking up anything anymore. So we started to work furiously in order not to face the fact that they might be dead. Especially those first three hours, when we really did think they were dead.
Quite honestly, at the very beginning, we thought it was machine-gun fire. There was an undercurrent of static and then every few minutes or so it would be punctuated by very sharp, loud shots—what sounded like shots. Now we know that they weren't really shots.
Sojourners: So then, Ed, you were being held at the house during this time? And then you went back to the radio?
Ed: Three people, Warren Armstrong, Bob Heifetz, and Virginia Druhe, accompanied by several members of the boat crew and three of the contras, went down to the boat. With somebody standing by, Warren was able to broadcast in Spanish that we were all all right, that we were with our brothers from ARDE, and that we didn't want any military intervention.
Sojourners: Why did you call them brothers?
Ed: We called them brothers because we had decided to call all the men we met on the river brothers. Because that is a term that comes to us out of our belief that we are all one family.
Then Warren, Bob, Virginia' and the crew came back up to the house. And it became apparent we were going to be there for more than just a little while. They were talking about us spending the night there, and it was getting a bit depressing to think of that, to say the least.
After a while, we had meetings as affinity groups and were passing information. At one point, we heard Sharon Hostetler [co-coordinator of WFP in Managua] on the radio, which one of the journalists had, talking about and pleading for "our companeros"—referring to us—to be released.
We heard her voice cracking on the radio. We were all terribly upset by that, and we had a time of prayer together in which we remembered those who were suffering along with us.
Sojourners: Did you fear for your lives?
Ed: Emotions were on hold. But one underlying feeling was that the danger was that the contras would try to split off the Nicaraguans who were with us. Contras routinely kidnap, rape, torture, and kill Nicaraguans. And not knowing the history of these people, I didn't know who the contras might choose to single out. We were very concerned and alerted the people in the group to be attentive to what they would do to the Nicaraguans, the crew members.
The other major fear was that Eden Pastora had said that his men had orders to shoot. And in the back of my mind was, "If indeed they are Pastora's people, and they're trying to make communication with Pastora ..." There was no assurance that we'd be released.
Sojourners: By this time, those of you in Managua knew they were alive?
Elizabeth: Yes, there was a definite sense of relief at that point. But, after a few hours we again got into the waiting and said, "Why did we feel relieved? They're with the contras. They've been kidnapped."
We know so many Nicaraguans who have lost their sons and daughters, or parents or spouses. We kept thinking, this waiting feels so tremendously difficult. And yet we know; we've received word, we know exactly where they are. We know they have press with them. We know they are North Americans.
I'd also underline the importance of community. We could not have gotten through all of this in terms of the emotional strain, the fear, and all the work without knowing that we were all in it together as a prayerful community.
Our North American friends from around Nicaragua came in and said, "We're here to do whatever we can." But also our Nicaraguan friends—from Managua, from around the neighborhood—came and stayed throughout the night until we knew that the delegation was safe, saying that they supported what we were doing and were worried for their friends.
Ed: We knew there would be people praying all over the United States. And that was very comforting.
So then our issue with the contras began to be, "Let's get back to the boat. We can't sleep up here. People are going to become sick. There is no water here." And eventually, the contra commander, named William, said, "Okay, we'll head down." The press, the contras, the crew, and the Witness for Peace people began to head down at about 3 p.m. And we walked and walked and walked. It turned out the contras weren't sure where they were going. Almost an hour and a half after we started, it became apparent to us that we were lost. We had several older people and others who were having a very rough time in the mud that could pull your boots right off. The hills were steep, it was very hot, and we were covered with mud and out of water. It was really dangerous for some people.
We backed up until we got to the place where we had made the wrong turn. At that point the contra leader was very angry. He said, "Go back to the ranch. Go back to the ranch." The contra leader then headed down to the boat, I guess to bring his troops back that had gone ahead. And we just kept on going. We got all the way down to the river.
Then on the stretch along the river, the last quarter mile or so, I met up with the contra leader, and he was furious. He called me over into the woods and yelled, "You disobeyed a direct order. This is the limit."
The people who were sick were lying down because they could not go any further. Other people were not sick, but were just worn out. We finally got the contra leader to come and look at the people who were worn out. He eventually agreed that we could stay up in the boat. He said, "If you get shot at from the other side, we're going to fire back. We're not responsible for anyone. And if you try to move the boat, we're going to fire on you. In the morning we should have the order from our commander about what to do with you."
So we made one more radio transmission that night, the same message: "We're all okay. We're here with the brothers of ARDE. Please get the message out we want no military force from any side. Our lives are worth nothing if there is any military presence at all."
A young contra came up to me and said, "Do you think we could borrow a radio? To listen to music." He was a small guy, probably about 13 years old. They've got him wandering around these jungles for who knows how long. God knows what he thinks he's doing here. He sees this group of gringos, and—with all the world wondering about us—this kid just sees this as an opportunity to listen to music, to one of those "little magic boxes."
We lent him a radio. And that night, coming from the contra camp in the woods, we heard, "We are the world, we are the children ..." as if it was the greatest hit in the Costa Rican jungle. Then we prayed and went to sleep.
When we woke up early the next day, the story was "We're waiting for the order for your release." And we waited and waited and waited. The contras then said, "We couldn't get through to Pastora, and our commander is on his way here and wants to talk to you."
Finally, about 12:30, they wanted us to get off the boat and meet with their commander. This man stepped out of the woods and said his name was Daniel and that he was the commander. He said we had only been detained in order for them to check for orders to release us and that we had been treated well. Daniel said that they were not ARDE, that they were also not FDN, which is the other contra group, the Nicaraguan Democratic Force. He said they were simply an independent anti-communist organization. And he asked some hard questions of the Nicaraguan crew about their identity. We were fearful again that they were going to try to take the Nicaraguans away, and we were prepared to encircle them and protect them. But it turned out that the crew knew him.
Then they all said goodbye, and we sang a song and prayed the Lord's Prayer together. After we got in the boat and took off, the crew told us they knew who Daniel was and that he was with ARDE. When we got to San Carlos, we learned his name was Noel Boniche. We saw a picture of him taken two years ago in an attack on a boat on the river. He had been photographed by some German journalists, and his partner next to him had a sash that said, "ARDE." He was fairly well-known, and identified by everyone as part of ARDE, under Pastora.
Sojourners: Why do you think they first said they were ARDE and then said that they weren't?
Ed: It's important to realize that the people who told us they were ARDE never told us again that they weren't. They proudly talked about being ARDE and never went back on their story. Then another man appeared out of the jungle and said, "We're not ARDE." We were firmly convinced that the people who talked with us all day long believed they were part of ARDE.
Sojourners: Could you highlight the significant events after your release?
Ed: On the way back what seemed most important were the two meetings with the Costa Rican Civil Guard. A helicopter came over the Costa Rican side of the river about an hour and 20 minutes after we were released. It landed, we were waved ashore, and we talked to a Col. Chavas, who was accompanied by three other members of the Costa Rican Civil Guard.
He asked us, "Why did you take so much time to come back up?" I said that we had a little bit of a delay downriver. Then he asked, "And you've all been treated well? I have to report to the U.S. Embassy that you people are all right." I said, "Tell them we are not making any statement because we don't have any security here as far as who we're going to run into up the river." And he went back and told the U.S. consul that we had motor trouble; this news came out on the radio later. Col. Chavas lied.
Another two hours up the river we stopped at a Costa Rican Civil Guard station. We were told a U.S. consul was going to come by and see us. The crew captain said, "We have two hours to get up the river, and there's two hours of daylight left." So we said we could wait five minutes. We waited 35, and there was still no consul in sight.
So I said, "Please thank the consul. We are very grateful for his concern, but we need to move on." And the civil guard said, "No, you can't go yet." And I said, "Are we detained?" And he said, "No." I said, ."Well, then we're going to go." And he said, "No, then you're detained."
I said, "So the Costa Rican Civil Guard is detaining us in order that the U.S. consul can speak to us? Do you realize what you've done? In two days we have been detained twice in Costa Rica. Once by the contras. Once by the Costa Rican Civil Guard. And you're saying that this time it's on instructions from the U.S. consul, and we're in a river that we understand belongs to Nicaragua. Do you know how this is going to look?" He just shrugged. About 45 minutes later he said he had gotten another order and we could go. And we went upriver.
When we got to El Castillo, at least half a mile away we could hear people chanting, "We want peace. We want peace." It was really, really beautiful. The whole town came out to greet us and led us in a big procession over to the church. There was an ecumenical service, which is not common in Nicaragua. You could see the people united in their desire for peace.
Sojourners: Is this incident going to deter in any way what Witness for Peace is doing?
Elizabeth: It certainly won't. I think that is embodied by the spirit of the California delegation, who came the next morning. They were still just as strongly committed to doing what they needed to do.
I'd say we're even more strongly committed to going ahead, knowing that we're just sharing the risk that our Nicaraguan brothers and sisters live with every single day. And this, if anything, just helped us better understand what they deal with every day. It also helped us to recommit ourselves to working for an end to the war and working to get the truth out about what is happening in Nicaragua.
Taken hostage by the contras were Witness for Peace long-term volunteers Warren Armstong, Wayne, Pa.; Julie Beutel, Rochester, Mich.; Virginia Druhe and Mary Dutcher, St. Louis, Mo.; Nancy Eckel, Norfolk, Conn.; Jake Golden, Concord, N.C.; Ed Griffin-Nolan, Albuquerque, N.M.; Tim Keppel, Raleigh, N.C.; and Ed Myer, Wenatchee, Wash.
Members of the short-term delegation from New York state were the Rev. Lloyd Duren and Thomas Fenlon of Newburgh; Stephen Banbury, Troy; Shubert Frye, Port Jervis; Geralyn McDowell, Chatham; Moira Smith, Mt. Vernon; Kathleen Kennedy and Sr. Catherine Kruegler of Syracuse; Carolyn Fialkow, Kathy Maire, and Barbara Schloss of New York City; and Judith McDaniel, Anita Von Wellsheim, and Kim Wardrop of Albany.
Other members of the delegation were Amy Brodigan of Washington, D.C.; Andrew Mills, Scotch Plains, N.J.; Shirley Cocker and Peter Pierce of Manchester, Vt.; and Peace Navy members Tom Caulfield of Berkeley, Calif., and Bob Heifetz of San Francisco.
Long-termer Kathleen Duffy of Green Bay, Wis., and John Paarlberg of North Syracuse, N.Y., a member of the New York delegation, left the boat at El Castillo and were not taken hostage.
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