The Wives Who Wait for the Beirut Hostages

By Marilyn Raschka

Jean Sutherland's students once gave her a plaque that reads: If anything can go wrong, it will.

And so it did. On June 9, 1985, Sutherland's husband Tom was kidnapped along Beirut's then-infamous airport road as he was returning to the American University of Beirut, where he was then dean of the School of Agriculture.

But those who know, love, and respect Jean Sutherland—and they are many—also know that the Murphy's Law on the plaque is no match for the pluck of the Iowa native. And one can say the same for Elham Cicippio and Sunnie Mann, the wives of US hostage Joe Cicippio and Briton Jack Mann who also chose to remain in Beirut to be near their husbands in spite of the civil strife and difficult living conditions.

Sunnie Mann, whose 77-year-old husband was kidnapped May 12, 1989, and released last Sept. 24, was determined to stay until Jackie, as the former Battle of Britain Spitfire pilot is known, was released. Sunnie maintained that to leave Lebanon would be to desert her husband. If the kidnappers were to tell him that she had left permanently, she felt that her Jackie would have had difficulty finding the will to go on living. And, like Sunnie, the other wives feel their husbands know they are nearby.

Jean Sutherland's survival plan includes some guidelines that all the women follow. "We don't go emotional, " is her first. She thinks back to the first days following her husband's abduction. "We thought it just might be a matter of days, (even) hours, " she remembers. Reality set in when the 39 TWA hostages (taken in July 1985) were released but the then seven US captives, including her husband, were not. "Zero expectation; zero disappointment," was the guideline that grew out of that experience.

Elham Cicippio, who is Lebanese, has had more "close calls" to bear than any other wife. On April 24, 1988, some 18 months after her husband's Sept. 12, 1986 abduction, the Revolutionary Justice Organization (RJO), which holds Cicippio, and held the now-released American hostage Edward Tracy, threatened to execute the men if the US staged further attacks against Iranian interests in the Gulf. They did not carry out the threat. Then, on July 31, 1989, just six weeks short of his third-year mark as a captive, Cicippio appeared in a distressing videotape saying he would be "executed" unless the Hezbollah cleric Sheikh Abdul-Karim Obeid was released.

In the videotape, Cicippio looked haggard and depressed. His kidnappers had him appeal to his wife with these words: "Dear wife, people, and the human society, and especially the Red Cross, don't leave me... Goodbye my wife. If you don't hear my voice and see my face again, I want you to look after yourself, and don't be sad and always remember me."

The kidnappers set a deadline and said the execution would be seen on TV worldwide (meaning they would provide a videotape). Hours before the deadline, Elham pleaded in a news conference for his life to be spared. "Joe, I know the difficulty of the situation in which we are, but all I ask you is to keep your hopes high and don't ever lose faith in God. I am sure He will never leave us."

The RJO postponed the sentence for a further 48 hours, citing Elham Cicippio's plea as the main reason for the reprieve. Just 45 minutes before the new deadline, and with news organizations around the world reporting every move, the RJO issued yet another statement announcing the freezing of the "execution" order.

Mrs. Cicippio's hopes were raised in August of this year when the RJO announced it would release one of its US captives. Composed and elegant, the tiny figure of Elham Cicippio was seated on a couch at the Beaurivage hotel—the designated venue for the release—surrounded by the press. They asked the inevitable question: "Do you think it will be your husband?" She answered simply: "I hope so" in English and "Inshallah" (If God wills) in Arabic.

Two hours later, the news broke that Edward Tracy had been released at an undisclosed spot and was on his way to Damascus. The journalists wanted a reaction. Bravely holding back her tears she said, "Next time I hope it will be Joe. " Supported by her brother, she left the hotel pursued by the press.

For Jean Sutherland, Elharn Cicippio, and Sunnie Mann, the role of hostage wives made them international media personalities. Journalists virtually camped on their doorsteps to "catch a quote" or plead to take just one picture of them listening to hostage news on the radio. They are often inclined to say "I have nothing to say" or "Please not now." But one journalist wheedled his way into an interview with Mrs. Cicippio by bringing with him a photograph of Joe that had been released by RJO just minutes before.

Jean Sutherland once turned down a request for an interview only to have the American journalist blast her with: "You aren't doing enough to help your husband get released. " Sunnie Mann admitted that she dreaded the crush of the press more than anything else.

The wives are often the last to know "the latest." Competition to get the news on the wire first means no time can be spared to call the wife—until the press wants a quote. Neither Jean Sutherland nor Sunnie Mann understand much Arabic, so until the news broke on BBC, their chief news source, they remained uninformed of new pictures, statements, or even releases.

But the women also have had very positive experiences with the press on a personal level. Sunnie Mann says her best support came from a British journalist who even arranged to have his hotel do her laundry. Water and electricity shortages in Beirut are chronic, and Sunnie, 73, found carrying water up to her fifth floor apartment simply too difficult.

Another journalist stayed at Sunnie's side in September 1989, when a "reliable source" in Beirut contacted Mrs. Mann and told her, "I am sorry but I have bad news for you. Your husband died."

Then, in November 1990, the British Foreign Office announced they had good reason to believe Jack Mann was still alive. And a week before Mann's September 24 release, the RJO sent a picture of Mann the first since his abduction.

For both Sunnie Mann and Elham Cicippio, it was difficult to see the deterioration in the health of their spouses. (No photos of Tom Sutherland have ever been released.) But for bad news and good, not having their husbands to share it with has been one of the toughest hardships for the women to bear. Elham Cicippio's father died in late September 1991, on the same day the RJO released a photo of Joe.

Anniversaries are both hope-filled and difficult.

One of Jean Sutherland's three daughters has married since her father's kidnapping, and Jean and Tom are now grandparents of a little girl. A second child is expected in December but again the happy news has been impossible to share. Mrs. Sutherland places messages in the local press—often accompanied with a picture—in hopes her husband's guards will allow him the chance to see the happy additions to the family.

Anniversaries, birthdays, and holidays are both hope-filled and difficult for these women in waiting. Elham Cicippio had a bouquet of flowers on her living room table to observe the fifth anniversary of her husband's abduction. The following day was his 61st birthday. Sunnie Mann marked her 50th wedding anniversary in June, more than two years after her husband's abduction.

Friends of the hostages' wives have learned to read their moods and respect their need for privacy. Each has his or her own way of expressing support. Joanna Ashong, a friend of Sutherland's, bought a small houseplant some time ago in Tom's name. The well-cared for and now quite tall greenery is her way of remembering Tom on a daily basis. She is going to give it to her church, St. Rita's Catholic Church, when he is released. Joanna is trusting in St. Rita, who protects people in captivity, to take on Murs Law and strike it from the books—once for all for all of the hostages.

Marilyn Raschka is a free-lance writer who lives Beirut, where she is an editor of the Americans for Justice in the Middle East newsletter.