Getting to a place called Hope

I seem to keep ending my recent posts with a promise of “more to come”. Hopefully this post will fulfill that promise to at least some extent. As always, there is much to recount. I think the best place to begin is with corn fritters (isn’t it always?). I have mentioned these fried corn delights before when talking about the wide variety of edibles formed from fresh corn, or chocolo, and expressing my surprise at discovering the Colombian counterpart of a western PA treat. Well, they showed up again as fresh corn was ripe for the picking in this last month and brought down to our village from higher up fields.
Most folks that live here in La Unión work community land or family land north east of the village and higher up in the mountains. In October of last year, the community realized a return of families to a vereda in this area called La Esperanza("Hope"). The people of this vereda had been forced to displace due to the rampant violence and massacres of the nineties, in 1996 paramilitaries issued a “get out or be killed” ultimatum to all civilians in the area. It is estimated that over 800 campesinos displaced. In 1998 some families went back, only having to displace once again. Last October’s return was the start of what the Community hopes will be the gradual and steady repopulation of the area.

Last week we were asked to accompany community leaders on a trip to La Esperanza in order to meet with the around 12 families that are currently living there and working the super-fertile land. I have been expecting to go to LE since I arrived last November, so I was very excited to finally be on my way. The trip is up-up-up and then down-down-down and full of mud-mud-mud. I hopped up on a mule when it was offered and was glad to spend the six-hour journey with the advantage of four, sturdy mule legs. At one point the sturdy mule legs carried me under a half-felled tree causing me to do my best on-mule limbo, resulting in some keepsake scars on my belly. And, on the way back, the sturdy mule legs didn’t stop the mule from falling. One of the community leaders and I were moseying along, having a nice conversation when he suddenly yelled, “The mule is falling!” and I automatically kicked my legs out of the stirrups and flung them over my head, catapulting myself –backpack and all- backwards over the left flank of the mule as it fell. Having never fallen off a mule before I wasn’t sure if it would roll towards me so I added some extra backwards rolls for insurance sake and finally stopped when my friend began saying “Enough, Amanda, enough” in between not-too-suppressed giggles. I was laughing, too. It was a ridiculous situation even by my standards, made more slapstick by my extra backwards tumbles. Muddy but amused and, not to be deterred, I got right back on.

Adventures in mule (mis)management aside, it was quite a beautiful trip. The further up into the mountains we went, the bigger things seemed to grow. The same flora and fauna existed as in La Unión, but I seemed to shrink – Honey I Shrunk the Kids style – as the ferns and palms and trees got bigger and bigger. When we got to the farm of one of the community members we had to walk through a field of super-sized corn to reach the house. I grew up in farming land – there was a cornfield in front of our house, and I am well acquainted with the fact that corn back home is supposed to be "knee high by the fourth of July". Here it must be knee high about 2 weeks after it is planted because it is gigantic at the time it is harvested. This picture here doesn’t even seem to do justice to its enormity. And there are no mechanical harvesters to bring in the crop – when ready the corn is harvested by hand. People here are not screwing around.

Because I was lucky to spend most of the journey on the mule, I was able to look around me instead of focusing on where my next step would go. The views were just breathtaking. Everywhere I looked, I saw endless varieties of green bouncing off the mountains. The journey to La Esperanza has helped me to appreciate how urban the village I live in really is. There, houses here are spread out and are built in folds of the mountain and surrounded by fields and fields of crops. There is no journey to town for supplies every couple of days. There is no electricity. There is, however, some cell phone coverage – modernity finds an entrance wherever possible, I guess. This, friends, was the campo campo. Children there have no school – but the community hopes to correct that soon. They are looking for a teacher and plans are in motion to build a school and more houses for other families considering the return.

This strengthening of La Esperanza is part of the plan to expand the reach of the Peace Community by way of Humanitarian Zones. The HZ’s have been the way in which the Community has designated outlying areas as neutral territory. In the more remote veredas combat can be more dangerous for civilians as there is no clear village area – so civilians can more easily be caught in the crossfire. The HZ’s are neutral areas that also have a designated ‘safe space’ for civilians to flee to in case of combat.These spaces are to be respected by all armed actors and combat should not take place near them. Of course, back in February, combat took place just minutes away from the school in the vereda of La Cristalina - the designated Humanitarian Zone. So, it has been harder in practice to have these zones respected. Another obstacle has been what more and more seems like a targeting of HZ leaders. Four of the men that have been the leaders of the HZ project in their vereda have been assassinated in the past year and a half. The two most recent have been talked about in this blog – Francisco Puertas and Dairo Torres. Arlen Salas and Berto Vasquez were assassinated in late 2005 and early 2006. This emerging trend is troubling and added reason for the community’s newly focused efforts to nurture and support the HZ project.

That evening in La Esperanza Mayra and I washed up in the small stream by the houses as the community leaders we were with met with the families of La Esperanza. Later on we joined up for dinner and the guys began telling tales of the soccer tournaments they regularly had between the villages and veredas of the county. The teams all had uniforms and there were even some women’s teams. According to our friends, La Unión was the force to be reckoned with. They eventually switched into telling us “Campesino in the Big City” stories. I was laughing so hard at these that tears rolled down my face. After having almost ten months of ridiculous gringo mistakes in the campo, it was so enjoyable and hilarious to hear about some of the misadventures of community leaders when in Bogotá or the US or Europe. They reminisced about one leader seeing his bag go past on the luggage belt at the airport and, thinking he had only the one chance to get it, jumping up on the belt and crawling over bags until he had claimed his own. We laughed as they talked about one of the women leaders being told mid-down escalator that she was headed the wrong way. She immediately turned around and started determinedly walking up the stairs, fighting against the mechanically dictated direction. An automatic sliding glass door was quite a foil for one of our friends and another was stranded in Bogotá for a couple of days only because he didn’t understand how to pick up the cell phone he had been loaned in order to meet up with his contacts. These stories came pouring out of our friends as the night sky darkened and the lightning bugs came out, adding their random blinking to the heavenly twinkling of the celestial splendor. As the laughter died down and we prepared to get some sleep in our hammocks I couldn’t help but reflect on the fact that some of the heroes of those stories were leaders that have since been killed. Hearing them humanized and joyfully remembered by those who remain was extremely touching.

The absurdity of lives lost to the violence of war is never far from the surface here. On our journey home we paused for a break at the top of the mountain with only the descent ahead of us. The view, as seen here, is spectacular. That is ocean in that picture. La Unión lies hidden down the first dip of the mountain, but the background of this photo shows how close we really are to the Gulf of Uraba. You can see one of the small towns in the center of the picture and to the left is the bigger town of Turbo – where the nearest beach can be found. We paused to admire the breathtaking view and then began our descent. As we began, one of the men we were with quietly mentioned that his father and cousin had been killed by paramilitaries in that very look-out spot just four years ago. The realization that everyone here has been affected by this war came rushing to the surface. He told us that his brother was killed on the same day in a different location. All three were simple campesinos coming back from some family land back nearby. They were guilty of no crime, they were aligned with no armed actor, they were simply passing through a well-traveled path after a long day working in their fields.

I sunk into thought about this reality as my mule half stepped, half fell down the mountain, carrying me towards the place I have come to call home. I looked out towards the ocean and thought about the recent massacre that had taken place the day before (Aug 22)– we had only learned of it that morning on the radio. This massacre was carried out by the FARC and happened not far from Apartadó, closer to the ocean-side town of Turbo. The town, Currulao has been a long disputed area between paramilitary and guerrilla forces. This most recent massacre is only the latest in a long string of atrocities committed by both sides in order to gain control of the town and its surrounding areas. Nevertheless, a place, a people, never becomes accustomed to rampant killings of the civilian population. During this massacre, a group of 8 guerrillas entered homes in the three different neighborhoods, apparently looking for people associated with the former AUC (now ‘demobilized’ paramilitary) “Bloque Bananero”. They killed three men and three women, all civilians – among them friends, family members and mistaken identities of ex-Bloque Bananero paramilitaries. According to news sources, all were civilians. The assassinations took place over a three-hour period – forcing one to imagine the horror that survivors must have felt as doors were knocked down and shots rang out through the neighborhoods.

This past week, the FARC showed up again, this time on the other side of Apartadó. About five minutes after a Police check point outside the town of Chigorodó (30 minutes south of Apartadó) the FARC set up a check point and proceeded to search cars. Among the cars stopped was a car carrying two of our fellow accompaniers from PBI and a community leader. Mayra and I were almost in that car as we had originally been asked to do this particular accompaniment. When the car our friends were in was stopped, the guerrillas had just found who they were looking for and kidnapped two men from nearby Mutata. However, 2 guerrillas had stayed behind to continue searching the cars. They took cell phones from people and eventually told everyone to be on their way. But it was a scare for our friends. Not to mention another indicator that the FARC have re-emerged in the zone in an undeniable way.

As the war continues to unfold all around us, I find myself struggling against the swelling cynicism that wants me to admit that there is no solution to this war. The daily news of massacres and kidnappings and the augmented military presence in the zone I live in seem to draw me closer to resignation. But there is so much beauty to be found in this country, in the people I am privileged to work with and to meet. There are countless places I have yet to explore, countless stories I have yet to hear. And my time is limited. As one of our older neighbors said to me earlier today as she held tight to my waist – “Time flies and you will soon leave us, just wait and see, time will fly.” I know she is right, but I am feeling so settled in lately that I can imagine no other reality than the here and now –gigantic plants, tragic tales, mule rides, guerrilla warfare and all. And I am challenged to hold on to a a belief that a solution to the violence is possible - I am challenged to get through the mud and murk of the daily reality and get to that hopeful place - to find "la esperanza" that is made possible through shared stories, shared laughter, shared tragedy, shared mule mishaps. The hope made possible through genuine fellowship with one another.

how it feels

This is what the last two months have felt like. This picture taken from atop the chivero last week is the best I can do at present moment. It isn´t that the chivero is moving all that fast, or that it is my first time on riding on the roof. But the expression on my face, a mixture of surprise and joy and holding on for dear life while knowing that at any moment our progress could be halted for a number of reasons, is the best metaphor I can offer to describe this life as it currently feels. More to come.

how `bout something a little less bleak

It looks like this month is going to be one with limited blogging. Since I last posted my boss and two teammates from the Bogota office arrived, and in the middle of that week and a half of meetings three old friends came up to visit. Plus a friend of mine in the International Red Cross threw a co-party for our August birthdays. This is a lot of excitement for one girl in the campo. So, I offer minimal commentary and lots of pictures. Plus, I realize I need to put up something that doesn´t have too much to do with Colombia right now as it seems that I´ve been worrying some of you. So - worry no more! Look at these pictures in which I am smiling and surrounded by friends and cake!


Old, old friend and savvy sailor/world traveler Morgan was the first friend to make it up the mountain. He brought tidings from Ma and Pa Jack along with peanut butter various other things and the newest Harry Potter. He told me that he had a flight out of Philly and was driving across the state the night it came out so his dad, my old HS Economics teacher, found places near the PA Turnpike that would be open for Potter Release Madness. And Morgo, like the superstar he is brought me down a copy. Then, as it shows in this picture, he took on the somewhat monumental task of trying to figure out the electrical wiring in our house. After cobbling together the correct voltage of batteries and investigating the premises so thoroughly that it lead one of our neighbors to ask if we had hired him, he fixed some wiring and taught us how to use our back up power source. It seems like chances are good that from here on, an electrical fire won´t bring down the old casa. Always a good thing.

Soon after Morgan arrived, another old friend and his wife came to town, Steve and Constanza somehow managed to squeeze in a few days in the precious little time they had in Constanza´s native Colombia. It was so overwhelming and wonderful to suddenly be surrounded by three important and loving people in my now comfortable campo context. Steve told tales of his recent time with the UN Mission in the Congo and then in Nepal while Constanza shared about her work in a Congolese hospital - serious world travelers and multi-language people themselves, it was wonderful to share our adventures and here more about the world outside of the Peace Community of San Josè de Apartadò. Friendships like these are indeed a blessing! My three friends had a bit of a non-traditional experience of my everyday life as we left for Apartadò on Saturday to attend the joint birthday party for me and friend Vincent of the Red Cross. This party was awash with NGO folks and full of sweaty dancing. This is the second time I have gone to a NGO party out of the community and man, do I miss that kind of socializing. It was so fun to be the birthday girl too - I had promised to bake the cake that my mom always makes from scratch for our birthdays, but lack of ingredients and time meant we bought one. Bogota based teammate Camila is lighting the candles in this picture.

As soon as Vincent and I blew out the candles, the cake was of course shoved into our faces. And this lasted long enough that I´m not sure if any cake was actually left to eat but I did have a lovely eau de dairy for the rest of the night. I can`t stress how wonderful it is to be shoving messy cake in someone´s face after a complicated last month of combat and murders.
We obviously decided to get our friends in on the cake-on-face action. Did you read that? I said FRIENDS! As in multiple people who live in the region who are peers and share at least some kind of similar context as internationals working in the region. Even if the Europeans all speak English better than me, plus 46 other languages. We really need to fix US schools. So, here, me with friends: Hans from PBI (the other accompaniment org that is with the Peace Community), me, Vincent, Diego (also of the Red Cross) and my teammate Mayra.

The party was indeed a success and I am still full of love and appreciation to have been surrounded by old friends and teammates-turned-new-very-dear-friends. On Sunday Morg left and on Monday it was "nos vemos" to Steve and Cons as I rushed to get back up to San Josecito for a meeting of six embassy representatives with the Peace Community. This was a very important meeting for the Community and while it was shorter than had been planned due to a late arrival by the embassy representatives and a packed schedule, Community leaders did an excellent job of presenting their concerns and needs to an important representation of the international community. The Defensoria Nacional (the Human Rights Ombudsman´s office of the Colombian State) was present as was the MAPP-OAE (Organization of American States, Mission to Support the Peace Process. This kind of meeting could really move things for the community and is especially important given recent events - international backing has been key to their survival and continues to be important to their resistance. The organization of this meeting was a joint project between our Bogotà team members and Community leaders - an example of the important political work that our team in the big city in involved in.

After the meeting, we as FOR kept meeting. Susana, our boss from San Francisco and our entire in country team have an amazing capacity for reflection and dialogue. We are also quite deft at taking dignified pictures.

All in all, it has been a very busy couple of weeks. Somewhere amidst all of this I decided to extend my time down here. I will only be here three extra months but I am excited to be able to experience more of this complicated and beautiful country and as I closed out my ninth month it became clear that I actually wasn´t ready to leave. But I´ll get Christmas at home and then some time in our Bogota office. I look forward to exploring life in the Colombian capital and working towards a deeper understanding of our partner organizations. But, until the end of November I will continue to enjoy the daily joys and wonders of life in La Uniòn.

Next up - more news on what is going on in the Community and in Colombia, just as soon as I get back into the normal swing of things here.

a quick update

I have been attempting to write a flowing and erudite blog about the combat that took place last Friday. But it just kept coming out sounding trite or too dramatic or something. So I have given up. And right now, time does not allow for much more than the quickest of updates - maybe I´ll take a stab at expressing my more complete thoughts in the coming days. So: Last Friday, the FARC attacked the Police as two of their vehicles traveled down to Apartado from San Jose. The began shooting just past the Peace Community settlement of San Josecito (also known as La Hollandita) about 1000 meters or 3 minutes in jeep away. We could hear the combat all the way up in La Union. Gun shots - ¨tat tat tat tat¨and bombs exploding - for me, at first it was almost indistinguishable from the distant thunder rolling towards us from the mountains. The FARC killed one policeman and injured another and then fled back to the mountains.

In the days since the attack (which was the second FARC attack against the police in July) the Peace Community has been under enormous scrutiny, given the proximity of the combat. This past Monday, a police control was set up on the roadway directly in front of the gates into San Josecito and the roadway has been heavily militarized with check points and men with guns at the ready. The Colombian media and some Colombian officials have all but suggested that the Peace Community is in some way responsible for the attack. We are on constant alert and honestly, I am really nervous about what kind of retaliation might take place.

July was a difficult month. Two policemen were killed by the FARC in two different attacks, Humanitarian Zone leader Dairo Torres was killed by paramilitary gunmen in broad daylight, not far from the regular police check-point on the only public roadway and stigmitization of the Peace Community was constant and dangerous. I am hoping for better things in August, even if facing this month means I have to turn 27.

Look for more on all of this soon. Oh! The chocolo was back in the last weeks! Folks were harvesting corn and then making delicious treats out of the fresh corn. Corn on the cob is one of my favorite summer foods back home and I was sure to eat my fill at a neighbors house. Plus we got to help make the traditional mazamora, a drink made from ground fresh corn and sugar cane and with corn kernals added in. So, not all is gunshots and despair.