Out of Captivity : Surviving 1,967 Days in the Colombian Jungle

172 OUT OF CAPTIVITYand there was also a larger multiband AM-FM radio they referred to asa panalón or panel radio.“Your families are both doing well, Keith and Marc. We have heardfrom them on the radio,” Ingrid told the two of us.Tom was off speaking to the other politicals while Ingrid explainedhow it was that our families had been able to get any information toher. “Because there are so many hostages in Colombia, several radiostations allow family members and friends to send messages to them.They then play them over the air. Generally at night or in the earlyhours of the morning.” She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “Hostagesare not good business and don’t attract advertisers, so they mustdo this at odd hours.”“Doesn’t matter to me. I’d stay up twenty four/seven to hear fromthem.”Ingrid nodded. “And your efforts would be rewarded. Your motherhas been all over the airwaves. We hear her messages all the time.Clearly she loves you very much. My mother is the same.”She went on to tell us that each of our families wanted us to knowthat they were okay and that our company was taking good care of them.Hearing those words was a tremendous relief for all of us, as we hadtalked about and worried over whether the company was taking care ofour families since we’d first crashed. To have someone independentlyand without our asking tell us that they were being provided for was awelcome bit of news.Still, there was more anxiety than joy in the air. It was like the proofof life all over again—a lot of information was coming at us quickly.Ingrid and the others were all talking at once, but we stayed focusedon her because with her we didn’t need Tom to translate. She introducedus to a somewhat short but dignified-looking man named LuisEladio Pérez, whom they all called Lucho. He looped his arm aroundher waist and joined in the conversation like we were at a cocktailparty.