Amnesty in Augusta

Web posted September 22, 1997

By Willie Mae Worthey
Staff Writer

Every month for eight years, Joycene Boyle has asked the government of El Salvador the same question.

What happened to Sara Christina Chan Chan Medina? Until she gets an answer, Ms. Boyle intends to keep asking.

In the mind of Ms. Boyle and other members of Amnesty International, no news is bad news for the 20-year-old photographer arrested by Salvadoran Air Force officers on Aug. 18, 1989. She hasn't been seen since.

``She's probably dead,'' said Ms. Boyle, a teacher in the nursing school at the Medical College of Georgia. ``We just want to know what happened to her. Somebody knows what happened. The government thinks these things happen in secrecy and isolation.''

In an interview, a spokesman for the Salvadoran embassy in Washington wouldn't discuss Ms. Medina's disappearance.

In the living room of Ms. Boyle's home, a group of about 10 Augustans transform into detectives, lawyers and sometimes saviors for people in foreign countries held prisoner or being persecuted for their personal ideologies - like Ms. Medina.

Though most members of Augusta's Amnesty International chapter have full-time jobs, some said they feel obligation and pride in their work for the organization.

``We've gotten letters from people who said they thought they would die in prison,'' said Susan Bloomfield, a commercial artist. ``A lot of them think that nobody knows they're even there. ...You really make a difference. It's a matter of raising your own consciousness.''

Many members of the Augusta chapter have been involved with the organization for more than 10 years, writing letters asking foreign governments for ethical treatment of those not in a position to demand it for themselves.

``I would read stories about how these people are treated and it really bugged me,'' said Roy DeLamotte, a retired Bible and business ethics teacher for Paine College. ``I said there must be something I can do and it turned out there was.''

Goals of Amnesty International include seeking the release of prisoners detained because of their race, religion or beliefs who have not advocated violence, said Marlene Johnson, a consultant for Work/Family Directions Inc.

The international organization, founded 30 years ago, also opposes the death penalty, torture and other cruel treatment of prisoners overseas.

There are more than 1 million members in more than 160 countries. In an effort to maintain objectivity, groups never work on behalf of prisoners from their native countries. Nor do they have political or party affiliations, Ms. Boyle said. New members are always welcome, they said.

Augusta's chapter, formed in 1979, knows of six prisoners released after constant pressure from its members, but group members don't take credit.

``Amnesty International never claims success for anything that happens,'' said Ms. Boyle. ``No one wants to admit they released someone because of pressure. The only success is constantly reminding the Salvadoran government they violated the human rights of their own people and we still hold them accountable.''

Amnesty International has enjoyed many successes through the years, said Ellen Arrianga, coordinator for the Bureau of Democracy and Human Rights in Washington.

``It's been very good at highlighting cases and at pressuring governments,'' Ms. Arrianga said. ``Governments do hear the voice of Amnesty International. Their work and that of other advocates do have an impact.''

The organization's Augusta members said they experience a sense of accomplishment when they receive letters of appreciation from prisoners who have been released.

``It's nice to get that letter. We got a letter from one man and we threw a party and toasted his release,'' Ms. Johnson said. ``We still hear from him every Christmas.''

The organization's headquarters in New York assigns cases to chapters to work on as long as it takes to get results, Ms. Boyle said. Fewer than three chapters will work on an individual case, she said.

The group's only real weapons are pen and paper. Members send about 70 letters a month on behalf of prisoners they believe are wrongly accused.

Their work may also include calling a country's embassy in Washington or writing to a prisoner's family.

``The one thing Amnesty International does is let them know someone is watching,'' Mr. DeLamotte said.