Fr. Des Quinn interviews his classmate Fr. Michael Sinnott after
the latter's release from captivity after thirty-two days.
Q: How would you describe your overall feelings about your
time in captivity?
A: It is difficult for me to describe my feelings about my experience. I often
wonder in recent days what was the purpose of it all. Looking back on it, there
was a calm there always, there was peace, and after the first day or two that
feeling that I could leave everything in God's hands; He would take care of
everything; let Him do what He liked and we would take it day by day.
Q: What were your most positive and negative feelings?
A: Now that I have come through it, the most positive feeling is that God did
take care of me. From the very beginning I prayed for two things. After I had
gone through the by-pass operation some years ago, I was afflicted with a bout
of depression for several months and found it an awful experience. So, I prayed
especially that God would not allow me to be depressed during my time in
captivity. He granted me that grace. Secondly, since we were initially without
my heart medicines, I prayed that if I had a recurrence of heart problems I
would not be left an invalid in their hands.
As for negative feelings, there was one particularly trying time. After ten
days in the swamps they told me I was coming out to freedom. So we hiked about
two hours or more to the seashore, and then travelled by speed-boat for seven
and half hours. I was covered by a tarpaulin. Once it became light, and the
cover was removed, I saw that we were sitting in the middle of a bay and I knew
that I was not going to be freed. They transferred me to a flat-bottomed boat,
and I stayed there all day. I had had no sleep the night before. After a few
hours they picked me up again in a speed-boat, travelled for a couple of hours,
and then started a long hike up through the forest. I was really in no
condition for hiking that night, particularly when there was a slope towards
the end. When we got to the top there were two guides trying to guide us with
flashlights and they couldn't find the right path. So they just slung up the
hammocks and waited for the dawn.
Q: It cannot have been easy to pray in such circumstances?
A: All that there was to do was to pray. The days were very long, and the
nights were longer. I was in my hammock at six in the evening and that was it
until six-thirty the following morning. Then, all day long, particularly for
the first ten days, we were on a type of mudbank, about one meter by three in
size, so that for exercise all one could do was to stamp up and down. I was
annoyed with the Lord at the very beginning; I felt He should give me a sense
of His closeness, and without that I found it very, very difficult to pray. I
eventually established a kind of routine, and after those first days, as I
said, there was a kind of peace. But no matter how I tried to pray, I felt no devotion
or no sense of closeness to God.
Q: What of your relationship with your kidnappers?
A: I was very roughly handled the night I was first captured. They threw me
into the back of a pick-up truck, and I think I must have landed on the
spare-wheel so that I got a bit bruised. However once I was placed,
blindfolded, in the base of the speed-boat I was assured by them that they
would never even think of killing a priest. From that time on I must say that
my captors could not have done more to make things as easy as possible for me,
in the difficult circumstances under which we were living.
Initially I had seven guards and I got a lot of “ideological lectures” during
those ten days in the swamps. They prayed three times a day to Allah, and they
urged me to pray to God for my quick release. The two guards who stayed with me
in the forest both spoke the Cebuano Visayan language that I speak. However,
among themselves they spoke a language which I did not understand. During the
hard hikes they were very patient with me every time I had to stop and get my
breath back. When I eventually became completely exhausted, they cut down a
branch of a tree, slung the hammock under it and carried me the rest of the
way. Then when we reached our destination they cut a pathway of about nine meters
in the forest so that I could get some exercise walking up and down there.
There was a small stream of running water, not fit for drinking, but it could
be used for washing and cooking. I suppose the hardest thing for me to get used
to was the lack of privacy for toilet and washing. But they were helpful,
friendly and respectful I must say. The diet agreed with me from the beginning,
and I had no problem with it. Actually I lost just six pounds through the whole
ordeal. And also, as a result of the extraordinary number of prayers that I now
hear were being offered for me, I never had an ache or a pain, a cold or a
cough, even though we were living in fairly miserable conditions, and often
slept in wet clothes. I have been amazed at this outpouring of prayer; I didn't
do anything extraordinary, nothing that anybody else would not have done in the
same circumstances.
I often prayed that the military would not try to rescue me. In the confined
areas in which I was being kept, there was no way that I could have survived a
shoot-out.
Q: What of your work with disabled children over the past
ten years?
A: I spent most of my life in parish work and was always coming across these
people with disabilities, particularly the children. Once I was freed from
parish work, I started this program with the support of the Bishop and the
Columbans. I don't feel that I brought anything special to that work. Our
purpose is to train parents and families how to best help these children reach
their fullest development. The parents did not know how to help their children.
Now they are delighted and amazed at how their children have grown more open,
alive and interested through the program. We try to make the children as
independent as possible especially regarding their personal needs. I think that
the atmosphere of love, support and concern that they experience in our centre
has given them a greater sense of their own dignity as persons. Juliet Tambiga
is deaf. The first time I met her she was too shy to face me or shake hands. A
year later I could hardly believe it was the same person who did an intricate
dance with the rest of the deaf children. Chona Albarracin is not deaf but
cannot speak. In the beginning she was shy and unresponsive; now she has become
a spontaneous laughing child who will run to greet you when you enter the
classroom. Rather than calling them disabled, we prefer to say that these
children are “differently abled.”
Q: There are eight of your classmates in semi-retirement now
in Dalgan, Ireland. Can you see yourself joining them?
A: After a visit to Pagadian I plan to go home for a month's visit in Ireland
over the Christmas. After that I hope to be able to come back and continue my
work in Pagadian. I realize that we are now just two Columbans left in that
diocese, whereas before we staffed every parish there. I know, therefore, that
the future is problematical. I have also been told that the civil authorities
feel the necessity of providing protection. That might mean having an armed
policeman accompanying me; I cannot imagine that as a long-term scenario. But
my wish would be to go back and to do the little I can for as long as I can.
I would like again to express my appreciation to all the
officials involved, and my gratitude for all the prayers that were said by
people who never heard of me, or never knew me, not only in the Philippines and
Ireland but also in other places around the world.
Fr. Des Quinn was ordained along with Fr. Michael Sinnott in
December 1954. He spent almost 47 years ministering in the Philippines, on the
island of Negros and in Manila. At the present time, Fr. Quinn serves as
assistant Regional Bursar in Ireland.
