Hostages' Frustrated Families Keep Faith

Although similar hostage swaps have been negotiated periodically, Uribe's administration fears that giving in to too many of the FARC's demands would encourage more abductions. Uribe's tough policy against the rebels has coincided with recent drops in kidnapping and violent crime, and surveys place his approval rating above 70 percent among Colombians polled.

"You can deal with the FARC, but it's not easy," said Vice President Francisco Santos, who was kidnapped by the drug kingpin Pablo Escobar in 1990 and held hostage for about eight months. "They're tough as nails, and when you give up something, they see it as a sign of weakness, not negotiation."

Early last month, the possibility of a "humanitarian exchange" was raised again. Government officials said they expected to meet with FARC representatives within days to begin talks on a hostage swap. But instead, FARC leaders rejected the offer, complaining that the proposed meeting site, a church in a town 90 miles west of Bogota, the capital, was not in an officially demilitarized zone.

Potential talks are further complicated by the possibility that Uribe will run for reelection next year, if a constitutional amendment allowing him to do so is affirmed by the country's Constitutional Court. Analysts said freeing the hostages would be a public relations victory for Uribe's campaign, something the FARC would prefer to avoid.

Still, the government hopes to keep the door open. Now it has turned to the Catholic church for mediation, hoping church leaders might help restart peace talks. Some observers expressed cautious optimism, noting that the church is respected by all sides and that the guerrillas have been weakened by government actions to reduce their drug profits. But others said the rebels would start talking only if they believed that armed insurgency has failed.

"I believe the FARC will not go to the negotiating table . . . until they are persuaded that they cannot gain power through the use of arms," said Augusto Ramirez Ocampo, a former ambassador and a member of the National Conciliation Commission, who has participated in various peace attempts over 20 years.

Reports of the renewed efforts have made little impression on the hostages' families, who expressed bitterness toward their sons' captors and frustration with the governments they look to for help.

"I feel forgotten," Rosano said by telephone from Connecticut. "Here it is, 2 1/2 years later, and everyone still says they're doing everything they can. But whatever they're doing isn't working. I don't want my son to grow old in Colombia."

Silvio Hernandez often attends weekly demonstrations in the large square outside the Colombian Congress, holding up a portrait of his son while he and a handful of other parents gather to chant in support of hostage swaps. It gives him something to do, but he said it hardly lifts his spirits.

"Look around," he said during one small protest, watching pedestrians go about their business with unbroken strides. "No one is paying attention."

His wife stayed home, going through an album of letters and drawings from her son that were forwarded by the FARC. The most recent letter is now two years old, as are the videotapes of Elquin and seven other hostages that the FARC sent to a Colombian news program in April 2003.

But even though the family has no proof he is still alive, each week family members call a local radio station to tape a brief greeting, hoping the broadcast will reach their son in some guerrilla hideout.

"The messages to Elquin are like oxygen to me," Magdalena Hernandez said. "The day I don't send a message, he might worry. You cannot forget your children."