Where no foreigner has gone before...

We went back to Soacha yesterday and went with the break-dance group up to a neighbourhood called Sucre/Buenos Aires – it is right beside Altos de Cazucá up on the hills above Soacha and is a fairly similar neighbourhood of winding dirt roads, piles of garbage everywhere, hodge-podge electric lines and shanty-houses cramped toegther. We jumped on a colectivo bus in Soacha and climbed up this very steep road that quickly turned to dirt and gravel. There was AUC (paramilitary) graffiti everywhere. (The place felt ominous, to say the least.) Many of the houses were nothing more than sheets of tin and plywood piled together with fabric across the windows and door openings. But this is Bogotá, where it has been quite cold and has been raining extremely heavily every day. It is not a good climate to be trying to survive in a shantytown.

I was sitting between two of the guys from the break-dance group on the bus, and the entire way up they were talking about how dangerous the neighbourhood was, how they were going to get robbed, how someone would take their shoes and jacket right off of them, how they couldn’t believe they were coming here and they hoped that nothing went wrong. They kept saying that they had to make sure they would get out of there before dark. Keep in mind, these are kids from Soacha Centre, less than a 15-minute bus trip away, and they were freaked. I was sitting there thinking, “Chicos, relax, at least YOU are not the tall white girl from Canada…”


We went to the Colegio Buenos Aires (middle/high school) where there was a talent show of some sort going on. Some kids put on a play, others did some rap/hip-hop, and our group did a demonstration of their break-dancing. I think, however, that Jon and I unwittingly stole the show. At first the kids were all very wary of us – they would stare at us but then quickly hide behind a friend if I looked back and smiled. Once enough smiles were offered back and forth, they started to approach us to ask questions (and to see if we spoke Spanish). As soon as they discovered that I spoke Spanish, they gathered around us quickly. Soon I was swarmed by kids asking questions and trying to get a closer look at this strange tall white girl. They kept asking me why Jon wasn’t saying anything and they immediately decided that he was very shy. They asked what size Jon’s shoes were and that became the most shocking news of the day. One girl made it her duty to tell every new kid that came into the group that Jon’s shoes were size 48(!!!!), or she would make them guess how big his feet were and it became this hilarious game. They all acted like it was the most incredible thing they had ever seen or heard, and they will probably never forget the day that they met a giant with size 48 feet! (They don't even sell shoes that big here.) The kids kept jumping down from this ledge that they were standing on to stand beside us and compare their heights to ours and their feet to ours. Then they would jump back up on the ledge so they could talk to us at eye-level. I quickly found out that we were the first foreigners that they had ever seen. Ever! One girl told me the only other foreigner she can remember in this neighbourhood was a pastor from Paraguay a few years ago. I asked them if any aid organizations or missionaries with foreigners had been there, and they all said they had never seen any other foreigners before us. So that explained the intense curiosity and dumb-founded wonder.

I guess not many other foreigners have been crazy enough to go there…?

I managed to have an informal chat with a few of the kids while they were waiting for their turns to perform. They were all more than delighted to tell me about their lives. A few of them were in a play and were melodramatic like only child actors can be. It was quite funny. They were energetic and exuberant and laughing constantly. They lived in what can only be described as a shanty-town ruled by paramilitaries, and yet they were such happy, delightful children. I was smitten with each and every one of them.

Here is what they told me about their neighbourhood...

First, they had not had water in over a month – they didn’t know why, but when I asked them what they would change about their neighbourhood, they all said the first thing they would do is bring the water back, and they asked me if I could do anything about that. I asked them if they felt safe in their neighbourhood and they all said no like I had asked such a silly question. The girls said it was more dangerous for girls, because girls who go out at night are crazy, have bad reputations, and always get attacked. The boys thought it was equally dangerous for both boys and girls. Another group all agreed that the neighbourhood was equally dangerous for both. They said it was fine during the day, but at night you had to be in your house after dark. When I asked why, the boys kept talking about thieves (ladrones) who would take everything from you. The girls emphasized the need to avoid being attacked and raped (only a few actually mentioned rape, the rest just said “to avoid being attacked”).

When I asked them what they liked about their neighbourhood, they all said “nothing.” When I asked what they didn’t like, they said “everything.” But when I asked them if they wanted to move out of their barrio, most of them said no because they didn’t want to leave their friends. However, when I asked them what they wanted to do when they were older, they all wanted to travel and/or move somewhere else. Almost all of them wanted to go to New York.

Many of these kids have never gone further than Soacha Centre, if they had even been that far. They had certainly never been to Bogotá. I was blown away by the fact that they had never seen a white person in real life before. We were only an hour from downtown Bogotá - it is not like we were in the middle of the jungle somewhere. They wanted us to speak to each other in English just so they could hear what it sounded like. They were all quite delighted when we complied. Then they made Jon say sentences in French, and that was fascinating for them.

When the soldiers showed up at sunset, I pointed them out to the kids and one of the girls rolled her eyes and said: “Whatever. It’s not like they actually do anything.” I asked her if she felt protected by the soldiers and she rolled her eyes again and told me that they did nothing to protect anyone, they just stood around with their guns. She said that they let all kinds of things happen and she didn’t see the point of them being around at all, as people still didn’t feel safe after dark. She was 13 years old. These soldiers were also distinctly different from any that we have seen in Bogotá or Soacha. They were wearing full body armour and knee-pads, with helmets and goggles perched on their helmets, and they were armed to the teeth. Jon said they were dressed for full-out urban combat, unlike any other patrol soldiers that we had seen so far.

We left shortly after 6pm when it was already dark, and I could tell that the boys in our group were quite anxious to get on the bus and get out of there. The soldiers were stationed inside and outside of the school grounds, blocking the narrow door and not letting anyone in or out. They would only let students out if their parents showed up to get them.

It is a tough life when the sun sets at 6pm and the dark brings armed groups, “limpiezas”, gangs, and thieves. What does it do to a child or teenager who has to be in his or her house for 11-12 hours every night because the dark brings so much danger and fear? And how appealing does it become to get a gun and join a gang or armed group if it means that you can leave your house after sunset?

Yet, despite all of this, the children that I met yesterday were laughing and playing and fooling around just like any other kids of their age.

I left there praying that nothing would happen to erase their beautiful smiles.

The worth of a child...

How do you restore the value of human life?

In a society where thousands of children and youth are recruited and forced into armed groups, where thousands more are used by drug traffickers, urban militias, and prostitution rings, and where hundreds upon hundreds more are hunted down and assassinated by “social cleansing” groups, how do you convince young people that their lives are actually worth something? How do you convince them they do not need to pick up a gun, that they do not need to escape into the bliss of drugs or alcohol, or that school will actually give them a future?

After living in Bogota for over three months, there are many days when I am overwhelmed by the hopelessness of it all. I struggle to understand how so many young people in such desperate situations find the strength to get out every day to study, work, and even have fun once in a while. There is incredible strength in the young people here and there are not enough people who appreciate it. In some of these neighbourhoods, life is absolute hell. I can understand why kids join gangs, why guns are attractive, and why the highs of drugs and alcohol are an appealing escape. What continues to impress me are the kids who resist these avenues and are convinced that things can change for the better. They have more optimism than I do, and I don't have to live there.

I hope they are right.

I listen to stories of friends who were shot simply for being out after the paramilitary “curfew”. They were not reprimanded or sent home to their parents with a warning. They were executed. I listen to stories of how teenagers had night classes or evening jobs and had to sneak home at night, terrified that they would be found by “limpiezas” (“social cleansing” groups) and shot. These kids are not criminals. For most of them, their only crime is that they are young and could potentially be involved in a gang, prostitution, drugs, or an enemy armed group. For some of them, their worst crime is that they smoke marijuana on street corners. For this they could be killed. And no one will go to jail for their murders.

How can we be surprised that a country in which youth are treated like this also has one of the highest numbers of child soldiers in the world? When you have no social power and no chance at an education or a job, and someone offers you a gun and the chance to be someone important, what makes you refuse? When violence is the only currency that you’ve ever known, it makes sense to join an armed group to get what you want, to get revenge, to escape from your family, or to run from whatever else is haunting you. Unfortunately, these kids soon learn that their lives are not better once they pick up the gun. But once you are in it, how do you leave?

The child soldiers are not the only youth suffering from this war. In fact, the child soldiers are the minority. There are also the displaced children, the orphans, the mine victims, the girls and boys forced into prostitution, the drug “mules”, the gang members co-opted by other armed groups, and the regular kids just trying to make it in neighbourhoods that have been taken over by armed thugs. Most of these kids do not want to join any kind of armed group. They don't want a gun and they wish they were not scared all of the time. They wish they could go out with their friends at night. They want to study and grow up to get a job and have a family. Right now they are just normal kids. But how many more years of living in terror and violence can they take? How long will it take before something dies inside, before hopelessness sets in?

How do you convince a child in this type of place that he or she is still worth something?

Do big guns make you feel more safe... or less safe?

I suppose it depends on who is holding them.

I wish I had a picture to attach to this blog, but you are not allowed to take photos anywhere near the presidential palace, so I will do my best to give you an accurate word picture.

Jon and I were walking around La Candelaria this afternoon, the lovely historical district of Bogota that is also swarming with heavily armed military personnel because the presidential palace is nearby. As we are walking down towards the palace, we notice several heavily armed soldiers running down the street. They do not look particulalry disturbed, but they are running with big machine guns and one of them checks his magazine before taking off at full tilt, so it strikes us as a little odd. But we've only been in Colombia for a few months, and we are not yet experts on what is normal around here. Maybe they are just late.

We continue walking down the street, and when we turn towards the palace I see the muzzle of an assault rifle sticking out around the corner, pointing straight at me. This gives me pause. Then Jon nudges me and says quietly: "Rachel, look."

I look down the street and notice that heavily armed guards are spaced out every 1-2 metres along the sidewalk in front of the presidential palace. What is startling about this is that most of them are crouched behind concrete barriers with their guns aimed out at the street. They look like they are ready for combat. Some have Uzis, some have M-16s. One has an M-16 with an attached grenade launcher, which Jon finds particularly strange. Needless to say, they are armed to the teeth.

The gun that was peeking around the corner at me is being held by a ceremonial guard who is crouched behind a wall, pointing his gun up the street. The other corner has a guard in a similar position. Across the street, more soldiers are lined up and at the ready. I scan the rooftops for snipers but I cannot see anyone. All of the roads are blocked off.

When we were here in August, there were perhaps half as many guards or less and it was open to traffic. The entire block is dead silent. All of the streets around the palace are blocked off to both cars and pedestrians. It is very eerie. We stop and look around. Is something happening and we just unwittingly stepped into some kind of face-off? But no, they are simply armed and ready for anything that could happen. I guess they were not kidding about stepping up security since the car bomb on Thursday. Jon notices two big men dressed all in black standing on one corner, obviously secret service agents of some kind.

Everyone looks a little bit nervous.

We walk through, at the same time whispering to each other: "Why are we walking through here?" Traipsing down the sidewalk across from about twenty big guns pointing at me is certainly a new experience, and not one I care to repeat any time soon. I start praying that no one sneezes or suddenly becomes trigger happy. (Of course, the writer in me is already composing my blog entry before we even reach the end of the street.)

We leave the area without incident, although I am sure that both of us had eyes as wide as saucers.

I still don't know why the first guards that we saw were running.

A Convenient Attack?

After five months of dialogue with the FARC (Colombia's largest and most powerful leftist guerrilla group) President Uribe has called off all negotiations and cancelled any possibility of a hostage exchange. Why? Because after the car bomb went off on Thursday (Oct. 19), Uribe announced that he would fight harder than ever against the FARC and that a military rescue of the hostages might be the only remaining course of action.

How convenient.

Excuse my cynicism, but first of all, how did a Ford Explorer absolutely packed with explosives make it past two heavily armed checkpoints to get inside the military university, one of the most protected institutions in the city? Security guards check trunks and use mirrors to look underneath cars just to get into shopping mall parkades, so how did the military university have such an enormous failure of security? Secondly, how did a bomb that was large enough to shatter windows in buildings 3 blocks away only cause minor injuries and no deaths?

Hours after the bomb occurred, Uribe was all over the news announcing that ongoing negotiations with the FARC were closed and that he would be increasing military power against the guerrillas. The popular consensus on the street, and in our Colombian family, seems to be support for Uribe. Many people are proud that he is so brave to stand up against these terrorists and they hope that he will fight harder. Sound familiar?

What better way to gain support for stepping up military action and cut off negotiations than for a bomb to go off in the wealthy district of the capital city, where Uribe has the most support? My cynicism is not entirely unfounded. When a car bomb went off in August near another military installation, just around the time of the presidential election, the FARC was immediately blamed. The media later revealed that Colombian military officials had paid an ex-FARC combatant to plant this bomb and others, as a way to generate support for Uribe. It was quite the scandal, and yet, support for Uribe did not seem to diminish after this. Perhaps people want to believe that his hands are clean and that this was all done without his knowledge. However, on a side note, Uribe was the mayor of Medellin when Pablo Escobar, the notorious drug dealer, was in the height of his wealth and power and essentially had control of the entire city. There is much speculation on how Uribe paid for his presidential campaign, but I won't get into that right now except to say: are there really any clean hands among the powerful in this country?

It is, of course, entirely possible that FARC was responsible for this recent bombing, although they are denying it. It is also possible that some rogue supporters of Uribe were responsible without his knowledge. Whatever the cause, the results are perfect for Uribe's administration. He can push even harder now and very few people will question it.

After all, he is fighting the War on Terror.

The Reality of Terrorism - up close and personal

This entry is going to disturb a lot of you who are already concerned for our safety, but I have to write about it - if only to vent.

At 9:00am this morning, just over an hour ago, a car bomb went off in Bogota at the Military University at Calle 100 and Carrera 9. This is notable because 1) it is only 15 blocks from the Canadian embassy and Jon felt it (the whole building shook), and 2) we spent Friday, Tuesday, and yesterday afternoon at the DAS office renewing our visas. The DAS office is at Calle 100 and Cra 11, two blocks away from where the bomb went off today. I regularly pass by this area on the bus.

So ... too close for comfort? Undoubtedly. But what do you do? This is the dilemma. We are at much greater risk of dying in a car accident than from a terrorist attack, yet the bombs are much scarier. But is one attack close to home enough to make us pack up and leave? What about all of the people that live here? If a car bomb went off in Ottawa, which is much less likely but still possible, would we move? Of course not. Yet it is still unnerving. I am already on guard all of the time because of petty criminals, and I will be going to Soacha once a week starting on Friday, which is not the safest of neighbourhoods considering the level of paramilitary and gang presence ... So why am I taking these risks, you ask? At this moment it seems like a very salient question. I have no answer except that the true risks of being here are probably not much higher than many cities in the United States. The bomb targets thus far have all been military, not random, so I suppose there is some comfort in that. The unnerving thing is that violence went down in Bogota in the last few years, and now in the past few months the threat of guerrilla presence in the city seems to be rising. Of course, it fits perfectly with my research on issues of urban violence, and it certainly matches the research mandate of the DFAIT Human Security division looking at human security in cities...

Perhaps what disturbs me the most is the lack of reaction from the couple that we live with. They heard it on the radio with me and then shrugged and continued on with their day. "Hay que aceptar la violencia" is what they said - "one must accept the violence." What?!? This is what 50 years of war does to people. Bombs go off, people die, and the rest of the population goes on with their day. "Eso es la vida" - that is life. As Canadians, we are under the impression that our level of security is normal. If a bomb goes off in one of our cities no one is going to say "oh well, that's life, we have to accept it." But here, that is what they say. The years and years of violence have created a country of polarization on behalf of some (the extremists on each side) and indifference on behalf of everyone else.

The security that we have in Canada is certainly a privilege. We can crow all we want about how human security is a right, but who will enforce that right? In theory it's a "right", but in reailty the freedom that we have in Canada to walk around every day without fear is an enormous privilege. The precautions that I take here in Bogota were exhausting at first and are now just part of daily life. You only take enough cash for the day, don't carry credit cards, watch who is close to you, don't stop if someone asks you for directions or money because they may suddenly pull out a knife and try to rob you (this particular one happened to us already). If someone sketchy is walking near you and your stomach starts to go in knots, cross the street. I have learned that my instincts are usually bang on in this regard.

Fear is exhausting, which is why people become indifferent. You simply cannot walk around in fear every day, so when a terrorist attack does happen, you shrug it off and continue with your day. What else can you do? This is why I am so exhausted every single day - the fear and anxiety.

But what does this environment do to children? That is my big question. How do children cope with this fear of violence every day? The privileged children may be sheltered, but the vast majority are not. Do they grow up indifferent, because violence is normal to them? Or do they grow up wanting to fight back because they are sick of living in fear?

I can leave if I want to. I can come back and live safely in Ottawa and enjoy a peaceful life. But should I cut and run at the first sign of real danger?

And what about the rest who have no choice?

The War in the City

Disclaimer: As with all my posts, the following is purely my own opinion and things that I have heard/seen/read. Many of these things are true, some may only be rumours. Please take it all with a grain of salt and a glass of skepticism. But it seems with all things Colombian, some of the strangest stories are the ones that are actually true.

If anyone tells you that Colombia's war only exists in the rural areas, take this with a healthy dose of skepticism. Granted, there is no active "battle" occurring in Bogota, and the high presence of military and police make most people feel safer on a daily basis, but the level of infiltration of armed actors operating within the city is much higher than first appears.

Take, for example, Universidad Nacional, the public university that is considered the highest calibre in the country. If you hang out in Bogota long enough, you will begin to hear rumblings of how the Universidad Nacional has been infiltrated by guerrillas and that there is a strong leftist presence on the campus. In fact, there was just an op-ed in El Tiempo this morning by a student arguing that the government needs to intervene and do something about the war that has invaded the highest level of education in the country. Of course, it should come as no surprise that a university campus has a strong leftist cohort. What should be surprising to all but the biggest cynics is the level at which the guerrillas have been able to permeate the university population. I have heard, but cannot verify, that the FARC actually pays (or intimidates) the university administration into reserving a certain number of admission spots every year so that they can insert their own people in order to a) monitor classes, debates, lectures, etc. for any strong right-wing sentiments or anti-guerrilla discourse (which are certainly not the same thing, although many people think so), and b) persuade more students to join their cause.

I had heard all of this before I went to U. Nacional last week for a meeting of professors and students that are getting together to research urban issues. I was told to "be careful" by many people, including staff at the Canadian embassy, so I set off with more than a little apprehension. Still, I was going to a university, not the slums. What could happen?

I arrived at U. Nacional, went through security (the entire campus that contains over 50,000 students is walled and gated) and was confronted with a guerrilla presence that was anything but subtle. Everywhere I looked I was slapped in the face by revolutionary sentiments. Every single building and every single wall was covered in graffitii proclaiming the need for a revolution, the need to fight, the need to eradicate paramilitaries... the slogans went on and on. Pictures of Che Guevara and crude stencils of bombs were everywhere. Graffitii was even inside the buildings along the hall walls. I was more than a little stunned and suddenly felt very insecure. I knew there was a guerrilla "presence" on campus, but I was not prepared for it to be this explicit. In a city where I am used to being stared at, I have yet not felt more conspicuous than I did on this campus. I did not see another obvious foreigner the entire time I was there, which is odd on university grounds, even here. I felt like every eye was on me and I walked through the grounds, trying to look like I knew where I was going.

(For those of you who are now concerned for my safety, don't worry. There are private security guards all over campus and the meeting went off without a hitch.)

The article in the paper this morning spoke of how students who are politically active and/or outspoken against the guerrillas, government, or paramilitary have regularly received death threats. On October 4th one student leader and human rights activist was shot in the head oustide his house in Cali as he left for class. Both paramilitary and guerrilla groups have "black lists" of professors and students that may cause them trouble. The government is keeping a close eye on students as well, and if you are a student at the Universidad Nacional you will likely be eyed with suspicion. In fact, this became such a large problem that many students were seen sporting t-shirts that said "No soy terrorista - Soy estudiante" ("I am not a terrorist - I am a student") during the recent elections this summer. The politics are so polarized in this country that if you are at all socialist/leftist, then you must be a guerrilla sympathizer. If you are anti-guerrilla or if you lean more to the right, then you must be a paramilitary sympathizer. If you are outspoken in either direction, someone will probably come looking for you.

So... the war is only a problem in the rural areas? No. The war is being fought at the highest level of education in this country and is suffocating political debate. How can universities criticize, analyze, and investigate if people are too scared to be honest?

And why doesn't the administration clean up the graffiti at U. Nacional? Why don't the police take a stronger presence on campus? I can speculate on the reasons, the greatest of which is probably fear of exacerbating the situation. After all, clashes with police and students are notorious all over the world, and the truth is, there really is a strong guerrilla presence on campus with access to a lot of money and a lot of weapons. The last thing the government wants is open conflict in the middle of the capital city.

Fear keeps mouths shut and opinions secret in this country.
Yes, Bogota is great, Bogota is lovely, Bogota is perfectly safe. The government has it all under control.

Do not say anything too loud, someone might be listening.

On a lighter note

Accidents that Jon and I have caused thus far:

1. The woman who ran into the curb with her car while staring at Jon.
2. The delivery boy who crashed his bike while looking back at me.
3. The truck-driver that rear-ended a cab while looking at me.
4. The cabbie that ran over a curb while turning a corner because he was looking at us.
5. The two little kids that tripped and fell over each other while gaping at us in the park.
6. The couple that bumped into each other and nearly fell as we walked by.
7. The cabbie who nearly hit the fruit guy today because he was staring at me..
8. The fruit guy who missed his table with the fruit he was setting out, because of me.
9. The guy who missed the first step on the staircase and tripped. Because of me.
10. The girls on the bus who nearly missed their stop and then plowed over some other people just in time. Why did they almost miss their stop? Because they were staring at me.

And there are more... and I'm sure there will be more. What started as an annoyance (the people staring) has now become a source of endless humour for me. I just laugh all the way home.