140 days of terror:
In the clutches of the Abu Sayaff

Former Secretary Roberto Aventajado recounts
role in the Abu Sayaff hostage crisis

by Rolly Eclevia

140 Days of Terror (with the subtitle In the Clutches of the Abu Sayyaf) is an excellent piece of reportage.

The book is a first-person account by Roberto N. Aventajado, Secretary for Flagship Projects under the previous government, of his role in the effort to resolve the worst hostage crisis the country has ever faced. As the government’s chief negotiator he emerges triumphant from the experience, but not without harm to his personal reputation.

As Aventajado tells it he is about to leave the country when President Joseph Estrada orders that he take care of the problem. The Abu Sayyaf, like foxes raiding a chicken coop, has seized 21 people, including ten Europeans from the Sipadan island of Malaysia and brought them to the jungles of Jolo, Sulu, in Southern Philippines. In the group are two Filipinos, one man and one woman; and nine Malaysian nationals, all men.

There is nothing contrived about the plot, which to our mind attests to the truthfulness of the narrative. The dramatis personae are superbly drawn, specifically Ghalib Andang, a.k.a. Commander Robot, leader of the degenerate Muslim gang; Dr. Abdurazak Rajab Azzarouq, former Libyan ambassador to the Philippines; and retired Police Colonel Ernesto Pacunio, the go-between. And they act and talk according to type.

As for the author himself he comes through as highly focused on the objective he sets out to accomplish but impatient and distrustful of people around him: the Libyan envoy, the local government officials, and all the minor characters who converge in the area for no purpose it seems other than to distract him and stall the progress of the negotiation.

He can be playful too, as his satellite phone conversation with the gang leader shows. Here’s Aventajado himself:

“O, Robot,” I said, speaking in Tagalog, the tone of my voice a little more engaging this time. “Kumusta ka na?” (How are you doing?)

“Mr. Secretary, pagod na pagod na ako, sir! Magpapalaya na ako ng bihag. Ang dami-dami na nila! (I’m so tired. I’m going to free some hostages already. There are so many of them!)

“E, kuha ka naman nang kuha,” I said. (But you keep getting more and more hostages.)

“E, punta naman sila nang punta,” Robot said in seeming exasperation. (But they keep on coming.)

Apart from the 21 Sipadan hostages, the gang holds Wilde Almeda and his JMC (Jesus Miracle Crusade) prayer warriors; and three France-2 TV crew members, Maryse Burgot, Roland Madura ,and Jean-Jacques le Garec. The religious sect members have gone on their own initiatives to the kidnappers’ lair “to pray over the hostages,” while the French newsmen have come over in their desire to get an exclusive. All end up as captives themselves.

In short, the book is a pageturner. There’s enough suspense to keep the reader riveted in his seat.

From the start it is clear that the two men who represent their respective governments, Aventajado and Azzarouq, are arrayed not so much against the kidnappers as against each other.

Then there is Chinese-Filipino Lepeng Wee, effectively kept at a distance but immensely capable of influencing the turn of events. He is in contact with the kidnappers himself. He has a mandate from Malaysian government officials to free their fellow citizens. He gets the Malaysians out but leaves behind the lone Filipino hostage among them, which says a lot about his loyalty as well as his priorities.

On the other hand, Aventajado is able to pry the comely Filipino woman out of the hands of the lecherous band of thieves ahead of the last batch of the European hostages. The woman has been kept with the foreigners in a tightly guarded hut.

It’s a pity if the book, because of the hype that accompanies its launching, will be read just to see how well the author defends himself against charges that he has pocketed millions of dollars in ransom money. If the reader approaches the book in this manner—and loses sight of its intrinsic merit as a fine example of the genre—the author has only himself to blame. In talk shows and interviews with the media and in the book itself he makes it clear that he writes the book primarily to address the issue.

For sure the money is there, and Azzarouq, unfortunately, is as vulnerable to its allure as the kidnappers themselves. Libyan President Muammar Khaddafy is said to have entrusted $25 million to him. The leader of the desert kingdom is a pariah in the community of nations, and he hopes to mount a public relations coup by offering money in exchange for the freedom of the victims.

As announced by the former Libyan ambassador himself, the bandits want $10 million for the ten original Caucasian hostages, $3 million for the three French television crew members, and $2 million for the entire JMC lot.

If the reports are true, the money under the Middle-Eastern’s disposal is almost double the total amount demanded by the kidnappers. Still he makes a ludicrous and unsuccessful attempt to short-change the hostage-takers, and thus unnecessarily prolong the agony of the victims. First, he wants to haggle down the payment for each hostage from $1 million to $700,000. Secondly, when the first delivery is made the money is short by P300,000.

Naturally, the kidnappers refuse to let their captives go until Azzarouq sends the difference. Unlettered though they may be, the Tausog bandits can count!

As earlier mentioned, a separate negotiation is being conducted by the Chinese-Filipino to free the Malaysians, for how much is unclear, if ransom is indeed being considered, which is probably the case. It is disturbing to note that there seems to be no effort being done on behalf of the two Filipinos. If they are released at all, the act is just an afterthought, thrown in as a bonus.

Now, to deal with the question that is on everybody’s mind. Is Aventajado on the take?

The Abu Sayyaf hand over the hostages in batches, one batch for every payment received. All the original European hostages, plus the Frenchwoman, gain their freedom this way.

Every time the bandits schedule a release, part of the slush fund, now converted into the local currency, is transported from Makati to Zamboanga under heavy guard. It then goes to Talipao in Jolo, in an abandoned and dilapidated schoolhouse at the forest’s edge, where the negotiating team is based. From there Pacunio and his assistant, who are related one way or the other to the gang leader, carry it to the jungle redoubt in an army truck initially and on foot the rest of the way.

The Abu Sayyaf decide to keep the two other French television crew members as insurance against a military assault, which comes anyway. The foreign newsmen escape in the confusion, as do the prayer warriors, who hide in a mangrove thicket, there to be rescued by soldiers. The lone Filipino with the Malaysians slips away much later.

Sure, Aventajado, who directs the whole operation, is always around when the crisp banknotes arrive. At no time, however, does the money pass through his hands. But granted that it does there is only one way for him to swipe it. He has to excuse himself from the former Libyan ambassador, who watches over it like a hawk, and from the soldiers and all the local government officials. And then he has to heave the trunks containing the money on his shoulder, run and hide behind a bush, and take his cut.

For heaven’s sake, we’re not talking here of a few thousand peso bills stuffed in an envelope!

Alright, the millions of dollars could have been deposited in Aventajado’s bank account in Makati. But by whom, the Libyan? Now, why would he do that? He hates the Filipino’s guts, he wants the credit for freeing the hostages himself, and, oh yeah, he’s not as generous as he wants other people to believe. The foreign currency given as payment is converted into pesos based on a lower exchange rate than what is prevailing at the time. The guy gets to gyp the wily bandits, after all!

It is just the chief negotiator’s misfortune that the German couple, Werner and Renate Wallert, and their son, prove to be an ungrateful, scheming lot. Once back in their own country, they make the media rounds to recount their experience and, in an apparent attempt to embellish the tale, hurl the accusation. It doesn’t matter that they have been kept in a holding pen during their captivity making it impossible for them to know what the heck is going on in the outside world.

For such grave charges the least these foreigners can do is offer a plausible story, never mind the evidence to support it. There is neither.

Back to top

We welcome our readers to contribute their articles to Philippines Today Online. If you would like to submit your article for posting at this section, please use our Submission Form.