Don't Forget to Vote

As I write this I am sitting in our Bogotá apartment/office listening to the occasional helicopter flying close overhead and thinking about the home I left up in Urabá. Today is election day in Colombia – folks are risking going to the polls in order to vote for governors, mayors and council members. Traditionally, the days leading up to and following the election are some of the most dangerous in the Colombian year. Uribe has taken measures to ensure that the weekend passes without incident. “Ley Seca” went into effect at 6 pm on Friday night and the mini-prohibition lasts until Monday morning at 6. People are advised not to travel and election observers from the Organization of American States are monitoring the polls.

Nevertheless the risk is high, for potential voters and absolutely deadly for the politicians themselves. At least 23 candidates were killed during the campaigning season for this election. Some analysis points out that the FARC have taken a more low-key strategy to disrupting elections this year. While normally the guerrilla group has looked to sabotage elections with general threats to politicians and potential voters, this year the threats have been more selective, and they have instead focused on the assassinations of “enemy” candidates. This has meant that this election cycle has seen more mobility for candidates and security for polling places that are in areas traditionally controlled by the FARC. However, this perceived improvement comes in a year with a very high count of political assassinations, which, according to the government, have mostly been committed by the FARC. Nevertheless, people are out to the polls on this rainy and cold Sunday and the low-flying helicopter is most likely there to keep an eye on the order. In the more remote areas of the country, where the FARC maintains a strong presence (like Apartadó and the entire Urabá region) it remains to be seen if violence will affect today’s most basic of democratic processes.

I can’t help but contrast the will of the electorate here to the apathy of the electorate back home. I can’t imagine what would happen to pathetic voter turnout in the states if “risk of death” was added to “must bring official ID”. Colombia prides itself on being the “Longest Standing Democracy in South America”. While this is technically true, the history is a rocky one including years of “shared power” between the two traditional ruling parties and (as has been revealed in this last year) strong government ties to paramilitary forces – not so democratic when you think about it. These days there are still questions floating around about the future of second-term President Uribe. Months ago mention of the possibility of a third term started flying about. This would require yet another constitutional revision, ala the Supreme Court decision to allow a sitting President to seek a second term, per Uribe’s request back in 2004. The Supreme court sided with Uribe then, but would they allow for the possibility of a third presidential term? And if Uribe decides to go down this path, how will this hold up in South America’s longest standing democracy when 12 years in office looks a little less democratic and a little more dictatorial?

We're not in Kansas anymore...

Here I am in Bogotá, ahead of schedule. And how did this early exit from my home in the campo occur? Well, the very same night after the initiation of the community soccer games, the fantastically horrible and largely absent immune system of old Amanda Jack gave out once again, a seeming fare-well-round of nasty that left me so weak and dehydrated that the community sent me down in a hammock. This was an experience unto itself. Not wanting to be remembered as the second FOR volunteer to be taken down the mountain by strong campesino men carrying a tied hammock to a tree trunk, I insisted on riding a horse down and with that proclamation, got to my feet and promptly face planted on the floor. The hammock it was. (Even my friend the baby can keep herself up on a horse)

When we reached San Josecito, my teammates consulted on the best plan of action while community members placed cut potatoes and cold compresses on my head to try and get my fever down. Then I was flown to Bogotá after we decided that because the Apartadó clinic had only days ago assured me that nothing was wrong with me it might be a good idea to get a second opinion. My teammate Camila had been down in San Josecito the night the gross hit so I was by my self up in La Unión being looked after by friends and neighbors. The way in which the community rallied together to take care of me - from packing my bag, to answering the phone, to ignoring my stubborn disposition and thus carrying me down the mountain in the mid-day sun to offering to send someone with me on the plane so I wouldn’t be alone, was completely overwhelming. Granted, I had an incredibly high fever, but tears kept spilling down my cheeks as I recognized the absolute concern and, yeah, love that was surrounding me. I guess 11 months in a place will do that. And even though I felt worse than I maybe ever had, I also felt incredibly grateful to experience this demonstration of love and care. Reflecting on that sense of true community during these last couple of weeks in Bogotá, I am beginning to realize how difficult it will be to finally say goodbye to this community, this big, extended family.

So I spent a few days in the hospital on oxygen and IVs and amazingly bland hospital food. But, as if that wasn’t enough, my first day out of the hospital I went online and was greeted with the mug of Hollywood darling Al Gore, alongside a headline proclaiming that he had been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize! This is outrageous to me. As I’ve mentioned in this blog, the Peace Community was also nominated for the 2007 Nobel Peace Prize and I just can’t comprehend a process that would decide Al Gore is more deserving of such an honor. Don’t get me wrong, I definitely dig all he is doing to raise environmental awareness, but the Peace Community is caught in the middle of a war that has taken more than 180 leaders and family and friends and children from them and yet they continue to actively create peace amidst violence. What does Al Gore have on that? I mean, COME ON! He already won an Oscar, isn’t that a more fitting award for the work he is doing? But the Nobel PEACE prize? I get that it would be quite challenging to work for peace in a world that had no ozone layer or polar ice caps, but shouldn’t he instead by awarded the Nobel Prize for Best Use of Celebrity Status to Push an Issue that Scientists Have Been Pushing for Years??? Anyway, fine by me. The Comunidad de Paz doesn’t need no stinking international prize, they ARE international peace.

Other than unmitigated feelings of anger towards Al Gore and the Nobel committee, I’ve been taking it easy and enjoying the comforts Colombia’s largest city and capital has to offer. Refrigerators, movie theaters, high speed internet (meaning Skype and ESPN) at my fingertips, all Very Good Things. And not to be outdone, the capital city has its share of violent political turmoil. That same first day out of the hospital I was rather surprised to see students at the National University engaged in a full-on protest that was met by the police force and their urban tanks. The University campus is literally across the street from our apartment so my Bogotá teammates often share stories of protests filled with tear gas and homemade non-lethal explosives and police hosing and tear-gassing and all around student anarchy. So while Mayra and Janice were largely unsurprised and unaffected, I wondered at the reality of it all as tear-gas-sponsored tears streamed down my face. We are that close that the tear gas filled our apartment for a chunk of the afternoon. And what were the students organizing around? Well, a few things. This was one more in a string of daily protests in memory of the murder of Ernesto “Che” Guevara, killed 40 years ago in Bolivia. Down here, he is not just that dude on the red tshirt – his revolutionary spirit is still inspiring people to lash out against the establishment.

On this particular day, a couple days after the anniversary of Che’s assassination students were organized in remembrance of the assassination of Unión Patriotica (UP) 1986 presidential candidate and charismatic leader, Jaime Pardo Leal, killed on October 11, 1987. He was killed by a 14 year old boy, an example of the sicarios used by paramilitary leaders. In this case, Pardo Leal's murder was arranged by José Gonzalo Rodríguez Gacha alias “El Mexicano” (now imprisoned and one of the many paramilitary leaders giving testimony of former atrocities as part of the Justice and Peace Law). Pardo Leal’s murder in 1987 was a major blow to a political party that by 1988 had suffered over 500 assassinations of its political leaders and elected officials. The systematic killing off of this alternative political party is largely considered political genocide. In 2004, lawyers representing the victims of the UP presented a case for political genocide aided by the complicity of the Colombian government to the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights, this included an official death toll of over 1100. A vast majority of these assassinations, as in the case of Pardo Leal, were directly attributed to paramilitary groups, which had both obvious and more hidden ties to the Colombian government itself. (Even though I’ve repeated myself a bit, one of my first posts goes into the UP with a tiny bit more context, if you are interested) This case is still pending in front of the Inter-American Court but the memory of the UP is still fresh in the minds and hearts of Colombians organizing for political alternatives. The present day “alternative” party is the Polo Democratico Alternativo, created in 2005 and the most recent incarnation of Colombia’s political left rolled into one party. The Polo has been enjoying success and recent fame for the strong opposition to “Uribismo” provided by outspoken Senators like Gustavo Petro (now a frequent visitor to the halls of US Congress) Antonio Navarro and Party President Carlos Gaviria. It looks like they will enjoy success in the upcoming elections, too as Polo candidate Samuel Moreno Rojas seems positioned to win the mayoral race in Bogotá.

Point being, even though the tear gas employed by the National Police in efforts to disperse the angry and politicized students was not the delectable carnival-for-the-senses that one might expect, it did make me very aware that student movements here in Colombia have not forgotten past revolutionaries and their protests are regularly met with force and those big metal scary looking street tanks. And while I am currently a long way from the campo and the daily realities of the war as it unfolds in rural areas, things here in Oz are just as instantly volatile and I am still in a country that is far from being at peace.

the beautiful game

FUTBÓL MANIA BEGINS!!!

Today was the opening day of the Peace Community´s soccer tournament. The different settlements of the community as well as some near by communities (like the indigenous community about 20 minutes down the road from San Josecito)are invited to play in a tournament that eventually only one team can be champions of. In the past they have splurged for uniforms screened with the names of the settlement or village but this year we are sporting uniforms of the Americas. I was invited to play on the women´s side for La Unión (of course!) and we have red uniforms that proudly display Chile. Hey, whatever works.

Today we kicked it all off with some friendlies. The young kids started out, La Unión v. San Josecito, ending in a 1-0 victory for San Josecito. Then we were up against one of the women´s teams from San Josecito. The mid-morning sun blaring down as most of the LU women opted to play in their rubber boots, for lack of soccer cleats. My old cleats are back in the US gathering dust, so while I was tempted to wear the boots (shoe and shinguard in one fell swoop!) I went with my less-heavy sneakers instead.

It was a wild game. A lot shorter, too. We played two halves, 30 minutes each and we DOMINATED. Due to extraordinary team effort, coordination and brute force (we haven´t even practiced yet!) the LU women enjoyed a shutout victory, 6-0. Their were no goals by old Amanda Jack, but a couple of assists and more importantly, no embarrassing moments. The gringa can hold her own. The tourney starts to count next Sunday and considering my bruised shins, I might consider going for the boots next time around.

what the world needs now is love, sweet love -and a humanitarian accord with the FARC

Last weekend was the long awaited amigos secretos party here in La Unión - sorta like valentines day displaced to September and without all the roses (did you know that Colombia is the second largest exporter or roses in the world? In fact, 2/3 of all roses sold in the US come from Colombia) and without the boxed chocolates (even though cacao groves surround the community). We celebrated Colombia’s Dia de Amor y Amistad a couple days late and with what almost seemed like elementary school rainy day indoor recess favorite game, 7-up. Amigos Secretos is a secret gift exchange organized by pulling names out of a hat –men pulling women, women pulling men- setting a price limit and allowing a couple of weeks for some good espionage in which everyone but Camila and I seemed to find out who had their name. Predictably, it turns out I had no secret friend. The one guy who was playing but didn’t show up or send his present along with someone was my guy. Apparently I am so unlucky in love that even my obligatory secret admirer can’t find the wherewithal to follow through.

I was lucky though with the name I had drawn some weeks before. I randomly chose one of the 15-year-old boys here in La Unión who I know fairly well. When I got here he was still an awkward and shy, not to mention much shorter, 14 year old, who first approached me to ask for help with his English homework. He has grown up a lot this year, attending the Saturday high school that many teenagers in the Community go to in Apartadó, now too self-conscience to ask for homework help and at least 6 inches taller. One thing that he has continued to do is come over to the house every once and a while to ask to borrow my CD walkman so he can listen to music in his own, quiet and personal way. When I plucked his name out of the hat I knew exactly what I was going to get him, I was just worried that it would fall way outside the spending limit. Fortunately, I came across a surprisingly cheap personal CD player, snatched it up and really can’t remember the last time I was so excited about giving someone a gift. He didn’t guess me either.

The way it worked was the person guessing would stand in the middle of the kiosk with two chances to guess his or her amigo secreto. If you guessed wrong, the crowd got to choose a punishment, like doing a silly dance or making a donkey sound or jumping around the kiosk on one foot or, the favorite of the night, tying a piece of twine to your back belt that has a pencil attached to it and trying to get the pencil into the soda bottle on the ground. Anyway, after my young friend did his “penitencia” I got to come forward as the secret friend. Later on when he opened it during the dance portion of the evening, I caught his eye as I was being lead around the dance floor and the shared smile was a sweet and lovely moment I won’t soon forget.

I think this small exchange was so meaningful because it provided me with a way to finally give someone something I knew they really wanted but couldn’t afford. I can’t really do that in my role here. There have been so many moments in which I have struggled with the fact that 10 dollars could really make a difference in someone’s life – help them with school, help them with a medical need or just allow them to buy that little luxury that they have their eye on. I realize this restraint is an important part of respecting individual autonomy, of maintaining our independence as international observers, not to mention discouraging a presence based on dependence and intervention, so I continue to hold back even though there have been many trying moments. This was a great chance to indulge myself.

After every pair was finally matched up, there was one more round of Bingo (Bingo had opened the night´s activities) and then after midnight, the music began. I am finally a bit more adept at the dancing here, which is somewhat shameful because it really isn’t that difficult, I mean we are not talking salsa – just a double shake then circular switching motion to the other hip to double shake and then circle back again while making tight circles on the dance floor. Apparently the problem is that much like a certain man in a little blue suit with spikey black hair, I am not an ambi-turner, I can’t turn or shake left.

As I was lead on and off the dance floor by many sweaty and shorter partners I realized that I now recognized all the songs, could almost dance to them and, more importantly, knew all of the people, save the outside visitors, who were crowded into the kiosk. Throughout the night, small moments had been re-enforcing this obvious recognition. Just outside in the shadows was the older man who, before arriving, I had only known as the face of the FOR Colombia Program – the nameless weathered, campesino face that gracefully looked out from the cover of our brochures and web page. Earlier, asleep on my lap was the little girl whose face appeared on the back cover of FOR literature and even was found on a blown up version of the same picture in the SF office. And at the end of the night I shared my last two sleepy dances with a man who just last week was finally released from the municipal prison after two long years of waiting for trumped up charges to be dropped. Until his release last week, I had only known him as a voice on the other end of the telephone, calling from prison and asking to speak with one of the leaders or his brother who lives here in La Unión.

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In other news, Liberal Party Senator Piedad Cordoba, asked by President Uribe to negotiate negotiations for a humanitarian exchange of FARC kidnap victims, has been kicking some major butt. She met with FARC leader "Raul Reyes", brought Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez into the mix, is working with Frances newly elected President Sarkozy, (a man totally obsessed with securing the freedom of former Colombian Presidential candidate (and dual Colombian/French citizen) Ingrid Betancourt), invited the Presidents of Brazil and Ecuador to participate, and after she met with the families of the three US hostages, she has even managed to coordinate the participation of a delegation of US congress people. But all this for what, you ask? The big Chavez-facilitated meet up will take place in days, October the 8th, in Caracas. The FARC have consistently demanded that the Colombian government give in to their request for a demilitarized zone before any discussion of hostage release can take place. President Uribe consistently states that he will never give in to this request. It remains to be seen what, if any, progress comes from this meeting, but the fact that so many folks are on board is surely a hopeful sign.