Kidnapped

Dec. 10, 2005

By JOHN CHARLES ROBBINS

Staff writer

Moments before a band of armed Haitians took control of his life, Zeeland missionary Phil Snyder saw a sliver of hope.

Potential salvation came in the form of a fully armed United Nations tank that rumbled by him and stopped about 100 yards away.

Dazed and bloodied after being shot and robbed, Snyder raised his arms high and began to scream.

"Help me! Help Me! I'm an American!"

The uniformed peacekeepers atop the tank did nothing.

"They just stood there looking at me," Snyder said.

The tank did not move.

Snyder briefly considered running into the street after the tank, but it would have meant exposing himself to sure gunfire, like a wooden duck at a sideshow carnival.

In his panicked and dizzy mind he was thinking, "Why are you not coming to get me? Why are you not coming to get me?"

He turned and walked into the bowels of a giant slum known as Cite Soleil, and was quickly gathered up by Haitians.

Some were helpful, allowing Red Cross workers to clean and dress his tattered shoulder. Others were threatening and it soon became clear his freedom was lost.

Snyder relived his recent shooting and kidnapping in an interview with The Sentinel Friday.

Dressed in jeans and a GLOW Ministries International T-shirt, the bearded man was soft spoken and took his time answering a string of questions.

Like his words, his movement was slow and determined -- his stocky body stiff from the bullet holes, buckshot and bandages.

Snyder, 48, traveled to Haiti last week to gather a young boy, Shelton, 6, to bring him back to the U.S. for eye surgery.

Snyder was driving a Ford Ranger on his way to the American Embassy to secure a visa for the boy when heavily armed men ambushed the truck.

The shower of gunfire might have claimed his life then and there if he hadn't instinctively crouched his body behind the dash.

The boy disappeared in the hysteria that followed, but was later reunited with Snyder under the watchful eyes of thugs with shotguns and pistols.

Snyder's captors had a plan: Hold him hostage and exchange him for cash. The original demand was $52,000. Once Snyder and the boy were moved into a cramped and mosquito-infested building and shoved into a 15-by-15 foot room, the kidnappers upped the demand to $300,000.

Snyder wrestled with his reeling mind -- the thoughts that haunt a person in captivity -- and also had to console and care for Shelton, a tiny and shy boy who carries the weight of a black eye-patch around his head.

"He was totally numb," he said of Shelton.

"I told him, It'll be all right. We'll get out of this. God is with us,'" Snyder said.

The boy began weeping and Snyder gathered him up in his burly arms. "I held him and tried to comfort him," he said.

Snyder's traumatic day blended into a night of gun battles and later loud rancorous music and dancing in the streets.

"It was a war zone ... automatic gunfire throughout the night," he said, shaking his head then rubbing his tired eyes.

The nocturnal and surreal street party outside was as disconcerting as the bullets.

"People screamed and hollered. Oh, man, it was a nightmarish place to be at night," he said.

His captors' threats of violence, coupled with the fear fostered by isolation, played on Snyder's mind.

"We're gonna kill you ... we're gonna cut your head off," his kidnappers called out over and over.

"Their job was to intimidate me, to convince me they would kill me," said Snyder.

"When you're in isolation ... the imagination is a wicked thing. Like a one-armed bandit, you pull the lever once, you might get a cherry. You pull it again, you get a lemon.

"I knew I was on a mission from God and the outcome was in his hands, but every so often I pulled the lever and a lemon came up. I had to face it: What if they do kill me? I'd leave my children orphaned. Would they ever see my body? Would they ever have closure?

"I fought hard not to succumb to those fears but in isolation, your mind never stops," he said.

Calls were made to Snyder's adult son, Chad, who lives in Haiti. Haitian civil police got involved, as did the FBI.

Negotiations stretched on for about 28 hours, from mid-morning Thursday to about 1 p.m. the following day.

In the end, a ransom was paid. Snyder doesn't want to say how much.

Snyder was reunited with his son. Shelton was reunited with his father. They all took a couple of days to relax and regroup, then finish up the paperwork necessary to bring the boy to America. A bodyguard was along for the rest of his stay.

Snyder and the boy took a flight into Miami on Tuesday and stayed overnight in a hotel.

On Wednesday afternoon at Ford Airport near Grand Rapids, Snyder and Shelton walked off an American Airlines jet.

There was lots of hugging.

Since then there have been doctor visits, family time and sleep.

Haiti was Snyder's home from 1979 to 1991. Today he and his wife Amber, who have eight children, live in Zeeland where the ministry is based. Snyder and his mother, Bettie, founded the non-profit organization God's Love for Orphans and Widows (GLOW) Ministries International in 1998.

How has his life changed?

"I want to be able to love more deeply, my kids and my wife. I want to kiss them more often. I want to tell them I love them more often.

"I want to say to them, 'I'm proud of you.' I want them to know that. I want to be as much of a father as I can to them," Snyder said.

What has not changed is his commitment to the people of Haiti. He and his family have worked to help the poor in Haiti for more than 30 years.

"It's really a beautiful place. The people are amazing, but the problems and the needs are overwhelming. It draws you in -- you want to help," he said.

One message he wants to share with others is this: "Don't hold animosity against the Haitian people," and realize that only a small percent of the population is dangerous and capable of violence.

Haiti is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere, and of late, kidnapping for ransom has become a common practice.

The missionary said he hopes to tell people about the desperate situation gripping the Caribbean nation.

"I'm going to be a voice for that desperation," he said.

"I'm not going to turn around and give the criminals a hero's applause, but I'll try very realistically to expose their situation, and give a part of myself to try and help be part of the solution," Snyder said.

Contact John Charles Robbins at (616) 546-4269 or john.robbins@hollandsentinel.com.