what i can

We Want Peace Where We Live

2006-12-12T19:12:00.000-05:00

To comemorate the National Weekend Against Violence Against Women, the University sponsored an art exhibit with the theme of domestic violence and peace in Colombia. I was especially drawn to this collection of works done by school children, which speak to the Colombian situation from the perspective of the most innocent victims. I also love the optimism and wisdom the children display.

To see more photos of the art, check out my Flickr account.

We Want Peace

What is Violence to Me? Violence is what the Guerrilla Do With Us.

It's Never Too Late to Begin Again

Abandonded House! For the Violence Where We Live. We Want Peace!

Gringolandia

2006-12-03T18:36:00.000-05:00

In the immortal words of Shakira, estoy aquí (I'm here).

I arrived back in Cincinnati yesterday after an exhausting red-eye flight, an unexpected delay in New York, and a few days of teary good-byes in Barranquilla.

It's going to take a while before I figure out how to live here in the States in a way that honors the experience I just lived in Colombia. In the meantime, I'm baking cookies and taking hot showers, shivering in the cold, and arranging reunions with friends. I'm also trying to remember that all of the folks I encounter in these parts speak english, so my automatic "gracias," "permiso," and "chao" don't make much sense. How sad to lose the opportunity to speak spanish every day...

As for the future of this blog, I'm not sure what'll happen. In the next few days I'll be writing at least two more posts about my final week in Colombia, so stay tuned. After this, you can probably expect this site to go dormant for a while. In February or March, I hope to begin my next big adventure, ideally working with immigrants on the U.S./Mexico border, and I'll decide then whether to carry on as a blogger.

Thanks for following my stories and for listening to the voices of Colombians creating and living new peaceful realities. I've loved having this space to share and to think, to record three amazing months.

¡Presente!

2006-11-26T15:25:00.000-05:00

Last weekend in Columbus, Georgia, tens of thousands of protestors gathered outside of the gates of Ft. Benning to protest the continued U.S. involvement in contemporary Latin American political violence. Housed at Ft. Benning, the Western Hemisphere Institution for Security Cooperation (WHINSEC; formerly the SOA – School of the Americas) offers military training for soldiers and commanders from armies throughout Central and South America. Lamentably (and outrageously), many of these soldiers trained at the SOA have been linked to massacres, violence, state-funded terrorism, and human rights abuses (visit the School of the Americas Watch for news and more information). Of all Latin American countries, Colombia currently sends the most delegates to the school.

For three years in a row, I drove the 15 hours between Indiana and Southern Georgia to join the masses of protestors at Ft. Benning participating in the weekend-long sessions of workshops, protest, and, most significantly, the symbolic funeral procession during which the hundreds of names of citizens assassinated by SOA graduates are read aloud. The weekend is always meaningful, bringing together nuns and students and activists and Latin American guests to give voice to our brothers and sisters who have been victims of the United States’ hemispheric control.

Earlier this year, knowing I was going to be in Colombia during the SOA protest, I was slightly bummed to miss out on the power of the weekend. It was fortuitous, therefore, and rather poetic, that I was invited by the Barranquilla community to travel 15 hours by bus to the town of Apartadó in the Urabá region of Colombia last weekend. Apartadó is a city surrounded by some of the richest land in the country and serves as a strategic site for the distribution of Urabá’s bananas, livestock, hardwood, and other resources.

Less than twenty kilometers from Apartadó, over the mountains, lies the Peace Community of San José de Apartadó, perhaps the most well-known Colombian city within the world of international peace activism. Members of the Peace Community have committed themselves to a creative response to the ongoing armed conflict in Colombia by declaring their land a neutral, no-weapon, peace zone.

Residents of the San José area participate in workshops about the philosophy of the Peace Community and commit to upholding the following principles:

Each community member freely and voluntarily makes the decision to assume the position of neutrality as a form of resistance to the war, and to abide by the following norms:
* To participate in community work efforts
* To say NO to injustice and impunity
* To not participate directly nor indirectly in the war
* To not carry weapons
* To not manipulate nor give information to any of the parties in the conflict.
Moreover, we commit ourselves to the search for a peaceful and negotiated solution to the conflicts in our country.

In a country in which the guerrilla, paramilitary, and military vie for social control through tactics of intimidation, disappearances, kidnappings, and massacres, San José de Apartadó has become a model for other communities attempting to reclaim and redefine their lands and their lives. Unfortunately, because this neutral stance threatens the powerful armed groups, the Peace Community continues to experience horrific oppression, including a massacre as recently as 2005.

As the names of these massacre victims were read aloud in Ft. Benning, Georgia last Sunday by protestors and mourners outside of the School of the Americas, it felt only fitting that I found myself in Apartadó, just kilometers away from the Peace Community, thinking and learning about the brave and innovative (and yet completely simple) philosophy of Peace adopted by Colombian citizens seeking to re-shape civil war and resist the cultural of violence.

Dando Gracias

2006-11-24T19:30:00.000-05:00

When we went around the circle sharing our moments of thanksgiving last night, one Colombian woman spoke of the meal, of being welcomed into our lives, and of the great value the accompaniment program. She described a Colombian-U.S. Thanksgiving dinner as representative of the wider benefits of our work here together, in which we create a space for our communities to truly be together cross-culturally, breaking down barriers, enjoying, and learning from each other.

Yes.

Thank you. Thank you to the Presbyterian Peace Fellowship and the accompaniment program. Gracias a la Iglesia Presbiteriana de Colombia. Thanks to my family and friends who have supported me and kept me company from afar during this amazing experience. Les doy gracias a mis amigos y amigas en Barranquilla – ustedes me han tocado mi corazón y me han acompañado en cada momento. Thank you to my fellow accompaniers – Christine, Amy, Traci, Billie, Shannan, Paula, and John – for sharing this time with me. Gracias a Jaime y Tito y Señor Antonio por invitarme ser parte de su lucha por justicia y tierra. Thanks to the Quakers, especially Bloomington Friends, who have never been far from my mind during this time of great transformation. Thank you to everyone near and far for reinforcing my belief in peace and hope and community and interdependence.

Gracias a la vida.

Mo' money, mo' money

2006-11-22T09:51:00.000-05:00

Billie and I found this 10,000 Peso note this morning in her wallet. It says esperanza (hope), and adds another layer to the currency-as-political-discourse theme of the past few weeks.

La Gran Ironía

2006-11-21T16:00:00.000-05:00

I like to cook. I enjoy the creative process of sautéing and inventing, eating leftovers, serving meals for friends, and feeding myself well. After almost three months with only a microwave and fridge, I’ve been missing more and more my kitchen in Bloomington.

Luckily, Billie is here. This is lucky for two reasons:
1. She’s a cook, too, so we’ve been commiserating and expanding our repertoire of meals.
2. She’s an explorer and has been peeking into all areas of Colombian life over the past few weeks.

In her explorations, Billie found an electric hotplate for sale at the department store around the corner, hidden far away from the normal kitchenware section where I’ve searched before. After fantasizing for a full day about boiling water (!) and grilled cheese sandwiches (!!), we took action, and within 24 hours the U.S. coordinators of the accompaniment program had generously agreed to subsidize an upgrade of the accompanier kitchen.

Last week, with great enthusiasm, we embarked on a shopping spree (with the help of Shannan), all the while fantasizing about the inaugural meal. We brought home the hotplate, a few pots and pans, dish towels, a cutlery set, some plastic containers, and enough fresh vegetables to stuff ourselves for a day or two.

What we didn’t plan was for the electricity to blow out the minute we stepped back onto campus. Or for it to stay out all night. Instead of preparing the fantasy meal, we wound up eating potato chips, bananas, and ice cream on the balcony with some friends. While a far cry from the pasta with homemade sauce we had planned, the evening did fulfill one of the goals we had for the new kitchen – it gave us an opportunity to offer hospitality and sustenance to our Colombian friends, to return their generosity toward us.

We traveled all weekend (and ate more comida típica than I ever want to see again) but tonight, we feast!

UPDATE:

Burro

2006-11-21T15:11:00.000-05:00

It was early in the morning and I was dozing on and off during the long bus ride. I looked out the window and had this dream-like conversation with myself:

- Hey, there's a donkey by the side of the road.

(pause)

- Oh right. That's normal.

Señorita, feel the conga, let me see you move like you come from Colombia

2006-11-16T08:25:00.000-05:00

I'm just waking up from an amazing night in Barranquilla. The hometown sweetheart, Shakira, gave her first local concert in over three years, joining other Colombian musicians in a benefit for the building of a new school (In return, the city unveiled a new statue of Shakira next to the stadium. They LOVE her here.)

The Barranquilla fútbol stadium holds about 70,000 fans and last night it was full. To get in to the concert, we stood for three hours (!) in a line zig-zagging through the surrounding park, eating arepas rellenas* and people-watching while we waited.

This was a night to be proud to be Colombian. The opening bands played cumbia and vallenato, the fans were decked out in their "100% Colombiano" t-shirts and waving yellow, blue, and red flags, and every other song gave a shout-out to local cities, customs, and people.

Mira, en Barranquilla se baila así, say it!
Mira, en Barranquilla se baila así
-Shakira, "My Hips Don't Lie"

With the buzz of the microphones, the blasting of the speakers, and the shouting of the fans, I couldn't understand the music lyrics very well, so I used the opportunity to watch the crowd, feel the energy, and reflect on what it has meant to me to be here in Colombia, what it means to be leaving soon. I found myself full of the embracing love for this land and these people, grateful to have found a community and a model for life that feeds my soul, knowing that I've been radically transformed in ways I can't imagine or recognize yet. I also felt quite sad, thinking about walking away from a place and an experience that has become so deeply and beautifully engrained in my daily life.

It's a mixed blessing, the end of an experience. I am so lucky to have these final moments to reflect on these months, to savor the sights and sounds, to love on my friends, to sort through what it has meant to watch and learn. On the other hand, every conversation, concert, fried plantain chip, and taxi ride through the city seems almost too poignant to handle when viewed through the lens of saying goodbye to Barranquilla.

*yum.

Cold Spell

2006-11-16T08:09:00.000-05:00

We've had several big rainstorms in Barranquilla over the past few days and the stifling heat I've become accustomed to seems to be taking a break. Yesterday I was actually slightly cold all day, wrapped up in socks and a long-sleeve shirt.

It was 75°F.

I'm stepping off a plane into the harshness of a Midwestern U.S. winter in just a few short weeks. This does not bode well for me.

Escuchando (Listening)

2006-11-14T21:28:00.000-05:00

Carlos Vives is a popular musician from coastal Colombia. His music is described as "vallenato-pop," a mixture of contemporary pop music and traditional Colombian vallenato (featuring accordion*, drums, and an instrument that is played by scratching a fork-like wand across a metal tube covered with holes). I've been listening over and over to his song "Santa Marta - Kingston - Nueva Orleáns" because I feel sentimental and wistful about the descriptions of travel through places and moments that have become familiar to me, especially as my departure date gets closer.

I'm posting the song here to share (click the pink 'play' button to listen). Please forgive the potential copyright violation and my rough translation of the lyrics. I've footnoted ideas of interest.

powered by ODEO

Santa Marta Kingston Nueva Orleáns
by Carlos Vives

Muy sola se quedó la ciudad, se fueron de vacaciones...
La situa no me deja viajar, me amarro los pantalones...
mejor voy al Parque Nacional, tranquilo en mi bicicleta....
perfecta se pone la ciudad para tomar una siesta....
soñando veo las fiestas del mar que salgo de Santa Marta,
vestido de marino en un barco de la Grancolombiana...
y al poco tiempo de navegar ya estoy en Kingston, Jamaica....
y hay alguien que me dice: ¡no problem, only peace in my island!

The city was left very alone, everyone went on vacation
My situation doesn't allow me to travel, I roll up my pantlegs
Better to go to the National Park, tranquil on my bike
The city makes itself perfect for a siesta
Dreaming, I see the ocean parties that leave from Santa Marta*
Dressed like a sailor in a ship of the Grancolombiana
and sailing a short time I am in Kingston, Jamaica
And someone says to me, No problem, only peace in my island!

Ay...voy disfrutando el paisaje...
Surcando la ruta del sol, no necesito pasaje...
Ay... te esperaré para el viaje...
De cumbias, reggaeton y rock and roll, yo preparé tu equipaje…

Ay... I go, enjoying the scenery
Following the path of the sun, I don't need a ticket
Ay... I will wait for you for the voyage
Of cumbia*, reggaeton*, and rock and roll, I will prepare your luggage

Y al Mississipi vimos al fin, la niebla en la madrugada....
Bailamos..I had come to Nueva Orleans..un vallenato en Louisiana
Parece no voy a despertar, no acaba mi itinerario...
Las gaitas yo comienzo a escuchar muy cerca está Maracaibo...

And to Mississippi we see at last the fog in the dawn
We dance... I had come to New Orleans, a vallenato in Louisiana
It seems that I'm not going to wake up, my schedule doesn't stop
I begin to listen to the bagpipes, Maracaibo* is very close

Ay...voy disfrutando el viaje..
Surcando la ruta del sol, no necesito pasaje...
Ay... te esperaré en el paisaje...
De cumbias, reggaeton y rock and roll, yo preparé tu equipaje…

Ay... I go, enjoying the trip
Following the path of the sun, I don't need a ticket
Ay... I will wait for you in the landscape
Of cumbias, reggaeton, and rock and roll, I will prepare your luggage

Prendido estaba ya el carnaval cuando llegué a Barranquilla..
En Ciénaga, fiestas del Caimán, parranda en la Alta Guajira...
Quizás mañana vuelva a viajar y me regrese pa’l valle...
Colacho* volverá al festival, ya preparé tu equipaje....

The Carnaval* was already on when I arrived in Barranquilla
In Ciénaga, parties of the Caimán, a spree in the Alta Guajira*
Maybe tomorrow I'll travel again and go back to the valley*
Colacho will return to the festival, now I'll prepare your luggage

*Accordian: Kids here dance. A lot. And they can move! I was really really amused the other day, though, when I noticed that my little super-cool six-year-old friend plays the air accordion (!) when he dances!
*Santa Marta is a city about 2 hours east of Barranquilla, on the coast. It’s well known for its beaches and Tayrona National Park
*Cumbia is another traditional Colombian musical style
*Reggaeton mixes hip-hop, rap and reggae
*Traci and I visited Maracaibo, Venezuela a few weeks ago
*Barranquilla’s Carnaval is the largest in Colombia, full of dancing and parades
*The Guajira are an indigenous group living on the border of Colombia and Venezuela
*Colacho is a famous accordion player

The Right to Land

2006-11-14T15:38:00.000-05:00

When folks are displaced, in Colombia and elsewhere in the world, they lose not only their homes, but also their histories, communities, neighbors, and, for many, their livelihoods. For farming families, the transition to city life after displacement can lead to increased poverty when they can no longer grow food to sell and eat.

The Colombian Constitution guarantees land to the displaced, and a group of families in Barranquilla meets regularly at the Presbytery office to plan their petition for new land. Some of these families have been displaced over and over again throughout the decades, by violence and political pressure, and their process of understanding the law and mobilizing for their rights is fascinating to watch.

While waiting for their petition to be recognized and fulfilled (which we imagine will take quite some time, given the corruption, bureaucracy, and governmental obstinacy they’re facing), several men have banded together to farm a small plot of land outside of the municipality of Soledad.

Last week they invited us to visit the finca (farm), to witness their hard work and to document their struggle for land. They specifically asked us to take photos and to share their story, to spread the word that these families who seek land from the government are not exploiting the system or looking for a free ride. Rather, they told us, “We are dedicated and hardworking. We are farmers. We deserve land.”

The finca currently sits on two hectares and is shared by eight families. They cleared the land by hand, which left a landscape of weeds, uneven soil, and debris such as rocks and trees – quite a difference from the sleek agri-business farms of the U.S. Midwest! The men have planted mixed rows of corn and beans, and while they wait for their first yield, they’re making carbon (charcoal) from the wood cleared from the land. The carbon will sell for 4500 pesos per bag, less than $2.00 US.

Currently, the men are torn between their obligations to their families and the work demanded by the finca. Although we drove over the bumpy, dirt road between Soledad and the finca in a rickety old jeep, we realized that these men must walk this distance (at least three or four kilometers) every day. This creates an obstacle for those who have children to support through other work.

Nevertheless, despite these challenges, the men greeted our visit with enthusiasm and openness. They’re already planning to diversify the crops during the next planting to include yucca and papas (although seeds are expensive and hard to come by). They’re proud to share their land and their struggles with us and, most of all, they’re hopeful about the possibility of returning to their livelihoods.

For more photos of the finca, click here.

The Miracle of Maracaibo

2006-11-14T11:58:00.000-05:00

At the end of October, my sixty-day Colombia visitor’s visa expired. I had two options for renewal: fill out a bunch of paperwork with a government agency, or leave the country and reenter. Oh a whim, Traci and I chose the more interesting of these options and decided to go to Venezuela for a few days.

We visited Maracaibo, a city on a huge lake in northwestern Venezuela. The majority of Venezuela’s oil passes through Maracaibo, so this city is rich rich rich (especially compared to Barranquilla). With a presidential election coming in December, the city is also full of the pro- and anti-Chavez propaganda of a divided populace (sound familiar to you folks in the States?). Traci and I spent several days acting as tourists, walking through the central market, visiting two (2!) art museums, seeing the plazas and churches and statues you’ll find in any big city, and relaxing by the lake.
After so long in Colombia, we were a little disoriented to find ourselves in Venezuela, where everything – the accents, the money, the taxi systems, the food – seemed familiar but slightly different. It’s challenging to navigate this new environment, and as two blue-eyed female North Americans wondering the streets we felt a bit overwhelmed. How could we enjoy the city while also staying safe?

What amazed me over and over was how the Travel Deities were watching over us throughout the entire trip. When we arrived at the bus station after dark and asked about finding a taxi, the wife of the station owner offered to drive us to our hotel. This turned out to be incredibly fortuitous because it was a holiday and all the hotels were full. In the course of an hour, our new friend Lupe took us to six or seven hotels before we found a room. She also took this opportunity to rail against President Chavez and the state of Venezuela since his election. If we had been in a taxi, it would have been an expensive and worrisome situation.

The second travel blessing occurred when we were hanging out on the sidewalk, trying to figure out how to get to the Plaza Bolivar, which would lead us to an area full of tourist spots. An affable and eager young guy overheard us speaking English and asked if he could practice his conversation skills with us for a few minutes. We couldn’t help but trust him, carrying a Bible under his arm and asking earnest questions about life in the United States. In exchange for the opportunity to talk with native English speakers, he offered to accompany us to the Plaza, choosing the correct bus and then walking the several blocks to the Plaza. Once there, we bought waters, chatted for a few minutes, and then he pointed us toward the market and the museum and went on his way. Without his help, I’m not sure how we would have fared that day.

Our bus for Barranquilla was scheduled to leave Maracaibo at 5:30am. Because everyone warned us that it’s safer to call a taxi company for a ride than to flag down cabs in the streets, we made plans the night before to be picked up at 4:50am. A 5:00am, though, we found ourselves still standing in the dark in front of the hotel with no car in sight. Desperate, we walked toward a busier street, hoping to find a safe, trustworthy driver to take us to the bus station. Much to our amazement, the first taxi to pass was driven by a man who had given us a ride the day before. He works for the cab company that was recommended by a very friendly waiter at a restaurant where we had eaten dinner twice. The very fact that someone who recognized us and who had been friendly with us before found us (in a HUGE city!) and got us to the bus station on time felt like an amazing end to our week of Maracaibo miracles.

The most outrageous and surprising moment of the trip, perhaps, reflects the desperation of two U.S. travelers longing for the comforts of home (that is, non-South-American food), however perverse that decision seems now:

For more photos of Maracaibo, click here.

Why I Love (Platonic) My Life Here

2006-11-08T16:10:00.000-05:00

1. Billie not only brought me letters and peanut butter when she came to join me in the accompaniment program -- She also brought me AUTUMN!! She carefully selected leaves from her yard, ironed them between sheets of wax paper, and surprised me yesterday with a bundle full of home. Today I shared them with Colombian friends who have never seen autumn, and we talked about the seasons and the beauty of the world. Also, I learned that the spanish word for squirrel is ardilla.

2. I’ve been working as an informal tutor with some friends who are studying English. Last week, one friend sent me this lovely and completely charming email:

Hello, my beautiful angel (ito), the beautiful person of the world, you are unique.

How are you? I hope very well. Ok, I was reviewing some verbs in past and I have many problems with the verb TO HAVE that you explain me in the last class.I think in you and I remember that I had you Email, I take advantage of for saludarte and I know the same time if this mail arrives to you.

I love you (friends). We see Tuesday.

3. On Saturday, I went to a picnic and played Bingo. The song in spanish goes:

B-I-N-G-O
B-I-N-G-O
B-I-N-G-O
y se llamaba Bingo

I also spent the day with a small friend and we made art together:

4. Yesterday we visited a huge agricultural market in the municipality of Soledad and I saw more bananas than I’ve ever seen in my life. Trucks and trucks full of bananas. Rooms of bananas filled to the ceilings. There’s something powerful and overwhelming about being confronted with the sheer abundance of the Earth.

Food of Dreams

2006-11-01T20:45:00.000-05:00

My new accompaniment partner, Billie, arrived in Barranquilla a few days ago. In addition to bringing me a letter from a dear friend (Hi Beth! Hi Gabe!) and a package from my parents that included embroidered “R” handkerchiefs from my recently deceased grandmother, Billie gifted me with the most precious of foodstuffs:

Although I love many many things about the Colombian coast, lately I’ve been fantasizing about U.S. food. I feel like I’ve eaten enough rice and plantains and farm cheese to have had an authentic Barranquilla experience, and I’m ready for the return of gooey pizza, big salads, and creatively prepared tofu.

Update: Everyday Resistance

2006-10-23T16:13:00.000-04:00

I received this 2000 Peso note from a taxi driver a few days ago. It says "Quick Death to Paramilitaries in Barranquilla." I'm really interested in everyday acts of political protest, so I loved finding this in my wallet. Unfortunately, I'm stopping the protest here, because I'll probably bring this note home as a souvenir.

UPDATE
I feel like I should clarify something here: I'm interested in the message scribbled on this money because I'm always intrigued by what folks say when given the opportunity to articulate political viewpoints in the public sphere. Although I adamantly oppose the systemic violence of the paramilitaries here in Colombia, I do not, in fact, wish them all a quick death. In the comments section, Sarah suggests that I re-insert the bill into circulation, but I'm choosing to add my own voice to the public discourse:

Land, Beauty, and Violence

2006-10-17T23:21:00.000-04:00

Visit Colombia for a week and you'll understand all of the problems and know exactly how to solve them.

Visit Colombia for a month, and you'll still see the problems, but you're not quite sure anymore how they're going to be solved.

Live in Colombia for years, and you don't even see the problems. You just see Colombia.

Last weekend a committee from the church traveled to the towns of Sincelejo and Cartagena in order to visit with communities and to host workshops, and Traci and I went along for the ride. Getting out of the city, spending time with different folks, and visiting new parts of Colombia opened my eyes in unexpected ways and I still find myself processing the experience.

Although I’ve been here in Barranquilla for seven weeks, until now the violence has seemed invisible to me, rather distant from my own daily reality and from the lives of the folks I know. I’ve heard stories of displacement and I see the newspaper headlines, but in many ways it’s hard for me to connect realities of the conflict between the state, the paramilitary, the guerrilla, to the Colombia that I’ve come to know. I don’t recognize guerrilla members or paramilitary leaders when I’m out in the community, I’ve never felt personally threatened, and as I concentrate on enjoying my friendships and practicing spanish, I often forget that this civil war carries on throughout the country every single day. Unfortunately, the violence was made visible to me in a small way this weekend.

On Saturday morning at 4:45am, we were waiting inside our gate for our friends to pick us up for the ride to Sincelejo. Across the street from the campus there is a fairly large city park, somewhat ironically called La Plaza de la Paz (The Plaza of Peace). As we sleepily waited in the darkness for our ride, I was startled to hear shouting across the street and to witness a police officer on foot and another riding a motorcycle chasing a shirtless, shoeless man through the park. They caught up with him on the street corner nearest our campus and proceeded to beat the man with their nightsticks. It was horrifying, and lasted several long minutes, long after the man stopped struggling. I’m not sure what I would do in this situation in the United States, but I knew that the safest thing for me to do in Colombia was to stay far away.

The ride to Sincelejo was full of contrasting emotions for me. I still felt a tightness in my chest thinking of that scene of police brutality, but the landscape in that part of Colombia is so breathtakingly gorgeous that I couldn’t help but feel joyful about the majesty of nature. We passed through la sabana (savannah), full of clouds and trees and cows grazing, winding streams and the rolling foothills of the central cord of the Andes. We drove through towns full of modest houses dotting the hillsides and small shops selling colorful hammocks. Fields of corn, yucca, and other crops were scattered throughout the landscape, and these patches of brilliant greens and deep browns proclaimed the lushness and richness of this land.

At one crossroads, my slack-jawed appreciation for the landscape was interrupted when a road sign pointing in the direction of several towns prompted one friend to tell me, “This is guerrilla territory. See that town name? There was a massacre there a few years ago. And see this land? It’s all owned by the paramilitary now.”

I’ve been hearing stories for months now about all the land stolen from Colombia’s three million internally displaced campesinos. I’ve been building relationships with so many displaced folks here in the city, but this was really the first time that I understood the link between these gorgeous fields of greens and browns and the stories of displacement, in which horrific violence is perpetrated by the armed groups seeking profit, control, and dominance. This is my friends' land, I realized.

The overarching lesson for me, and one I’m still continuing to dissect, relates to the senselessness of poverty in a country so rich with resources and fertility. A few weeks ago, one displaced organizer was describing to me the richness of Colombian soil and she said, “If every Colombian had land, there would be no hunger.” Another astute observer pointed out that Colombia really has everything it needs – fruit trees, rivers, rainforest, oil, emeralds, and fertile lands. The problem in Colombia is that these resources are constantly being stolen and concentrated in the hands of the most powerful, including the armed groups, the wealthy elites, and, in some cases, international actors. What this leaves is a growing population of folks ripped from their livelihoods, their histories, their communities, now struggling for justice and survival on the outskirts of cities like Barranquilla, Bogotá, Cartagena, and elsewhere in Colombia.

There’s so much to say about this situation, but for now I’ll leave you with a question one pastor posed during the weekend’s workshop. He was describing the culture of consumption and individualism that is rapidly spreading throughout the world, which distances us from our obligations to each other and which, on the national and international level, contributes to violence and power-seeking. He asked:

¿Qué tiene que ver con la vida digna? (What does this have to do with a dignified life?)

Uncle Sam's gonna wanna Hummer

2006-10-17T17:57:00.000-04:00

Earlier today Traci and I were invited to visit one of the local schools to share some thoughts about peace at the assembly for the 11-18 year old students. With the students, we read a poem about opening our eyes and standing up for peace, we discussed what peace means, and questioned how to be active peacemakers in our schools, neighborhoods, families, and world. The best part, though, was at the end, when a few student snuck away from their classmates to ask us relevant social questions:

1. What exactly is this thing called a Hummer? Why is it called that?

2. Who's this Uncle Sam guy? Whose uncle is he?

The cultural exchanges continued throughout the day. Sometimes it's really helpful for me when I'm speaking spanish to share a pen and paper with my conversation partner, both to help myself understand new words and so I can be more articulate in explaining concepts in english. This afternoon I talked for well over an hour with a teenager who plays the oboe in the community orchestra here (by the way, I myself have abandoned the dream of joining the oboe section for the holiday concert -- the eight years that have passed since I last played the oboe erased everything from my memory, and my self-education priority for the six weeks I have left here is to continue to improve my spanish). During this discussion, my oboe friend and I spoke about music and the holidays and Colombian cheeses, and I answered for him some random questions about words and phrases he had heard in pop music and movies. The piece of paper we shared during this conversation is a keeper, I think, and I'm posting it here for your amusement. Feel free to click on the image to enlarge it. You won't regret it.

Veinte Preguntas

2006-10-17T00:38:00.000-04:00

-- I am a woman.
-- Are you dead?
-- No.
-- Are you from the Americas?
-- Claro que sí. (Of course.)
-- ¿Colombiana?
-- Sí.
-- ¿Barranquillera? (From Barranquilla?)
-- Sí.
-- Do we know you?
-- Personally, no.
-- Do your hips lie?
-- NO!
-- You're Shakira!!*

As we drove back to Barranquilla from Cartagena this weekend, Traci and I played Twenty Questions with two Colombian friends. While the game usually elicits the most creativity when the person to be guessed is obscure or hard to categorize (the constellation Orion, for example, or the Statue of Liberty), during this inter-cultural round we tended more toward simplicity, choosing choose famous world figures (Gandhi, Castro, bin Laden) or mutual friends from the community. Although Traci and I had a hard time naming an old-school Vallenato** singer from the Colombian coast, and I stumped the men with Marge Simpson***, in general, I noticed that we were all very careful to make sure each participant could equally enjoy the guessing game. We laughed a lot and congratulated each other during clever or challenging rounds, and as I posed my questions and watched the stars through the car window, I was struck by how easy it is, when you think about it, to treat others with kindness. For me, our one silly roadtrip game offered a glimpse into a world in which we consider the needs of the group, engage in inclusive rather than exclusive activites, and enjoy each other all the more as a result.

*In the spirit of inclusivity and keeping everyone informed, here's the scoop on Shakira: She's a singer from Barranquilla who has made it big in the world of pop music, with songs in both english and spanish. Her most recent hit was called "My Hips Don't Lie." The latest news around Barranquilla is that she has donated a huge sum of money to the city to build a new school.
**Vallenato is a traditional form of Colombian music, wildly popular on the coast, which features far more accordian that North Americans are accustomed to.
***Marge Simpson is the mother of the family on the television show Los Simpson. She has yellow skin, blue hair, is not engaged in politics, and lives somewhere in the United States.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name...

2006-10-16T12:28:00.000-04:00

Lost in Translation

2006-10-11T17:48:00.000-04:00

My friend and I were looking at photos on my computer and sharing the names of various things in spanish and english. For example, I learned that a calla lily is called "lirio de agua."

When looking at photos of my garden in Bloomington, I said, "Oh, es basil, albahaca." My friend heard "Oh, beso a vaca" ("Oh, I kiss the cow").

Colombia is Passion

2006-10-11T13:03:00.000-04:00

While browsing YouTube, I found this public relations video about Colombia.

While I think it's really important to present an image of Colombia that isn't all about drugs and violence, I also think this video does a small disservice to the country, as well, in presenting an overly beautified description. Colombia is a country of constrasts; a balanced and honest portrayal of the country would include natural beauty and poverty and celebrations and conflict.

Nevertheless, can you all understand why I've fallen in love with the gem of South America?

El Campo (extra-special multimedia post!!)

2006-10-11T12:26:00.000-04:00

Last weekend we took a short trip to accompany a small church in a town near the Venezuela border. I was so thrilled to leave the city for a few days, and during the four hour bus ride my nose was glued to the window. As we drove, the landscape changed from city to sea to marshland to mountains, and we saw fewer palm trees and more grazing livestock. Everywhere I looked, I saw beauty (and poverty and innovation and community). I felt like the trip gave my eyes a four-hour stimulating massage as I took in every cloud and every tree.

I was so enraptured with the landscape that I filmed a few videos through the bus window. I'm posting two here, not because they're inherently entertaining or well-crafted, but because they offer an easy way to share a small bit of the beauty of Colombia with you folks in the States.

This video captures the beauty of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta mountain range. For some reason, I was surprised to see mountains so near to the coast, because I know the Andes are more centrally located in Colombia. How lucky are the folks who live with this view out of their windows?

I'm posting this other video simply because it makes me laugh. During the bus ride the movie Miami Vice was playing (dubbed in spanish) and I love how the soundtrack of the movie, the reflection of the camera on the window, the weird dead palm trees, and my jumpy hand combine to give this video a really creepy feel. The footage suggests that we're forging deeping into the Amazon jungle, where danger lurks, when in reality we were on a cushy, air-conditioned tour bus watching a cheesy U.S. movie.

Siesta

2006-10-06T16:34:00.000-04:00

Around here, offices and businesses close every day between the hours of noon and 2:00pm for siesta. Folks turn down the lights, eat a leisurely lunch, and sometimes even unroll cushions behind their desks for a little nap on the floor. After I eat, I’ve become accustomed to taking this time to read a little, write a little, or just close my eyes and think.

While the tradition of siesta is rooted in Latin American culture, it offers a very practical solution to life on the Colombian coast – It’s hot here! Weather.com reports that while it’s 91˚F today in Barranquilla, it “feels like 106˚F.” ¡Bien Caliente! Under this scorching sun, when it’s just too danged hot to function, siesta gives everyone time to slow down and cool down. It seems to me a beautiful ritual for self-care, for shaping cultural practices in response to real human needs.

Last Sunday after church we were invited to eat lunch in the home of one of our friends. For a few hours we visited, played with the baby, ate delicious food, and, in the mid-afternoon, we all took siestas on the various couches and beds throughout the house. It was a bit strange for me to find myself sprawled on my friend’s bed, listening to the hum of the fan and watching the curtains dance across the windows, but I relished the opportunity to be silent, to retreat for a small moment. After about an hour, we gathered back together, shared a tinto (small mug of black Colombian coffee with sugar), listened to music, and talked politics until the early evening. Given the intensity of human rights work and the amazingly long hours so many folks spend on the job, it’s no wonder that families will be so deliberate about relaxing, reenergizing, and enjoying each other on Sunday afternoons.

Puerto Colombia

2006-10-02T17:53:00.000-04:00

I spent Saturday visiting the town of Puerto Colombia with my friends Camilo and Ramón. Although Barranquilla is located on Colombia’s Caribbean coast, the city doesn’t have easy access to the sea. Puerto Colombia is a town about 15 kilometers from Barranquilla and is home to the area’s former shipping pier. Built in 1888, the muelle (wharf) extends one kilometer out into the water and is now falling into disrepair.

When the pier was closed and the shipping businesses moved to Barranquilla and the Magdalena River, the town lost its primary livelihood. The area continues to be well used, though, by men who sit on the muelle catching fish for their families, beach goers who rent small cabañas on the shore, and kids who dive into the waves over and over.

Camilo, Ramón and I spent over two hours walking to the end of the pier, chatting with the divers and the fishermen, taking photos, and leaving our mark.

Although Puerto Colombia is still a popular destination for visitors and community members, it doesn’t feel as touristy as Cartagena. There was something precious about spending a simple Saturday afternoon on the Colombian coast, walking above the waves and feeling the salty spray of the water on our legs.

Cartagena

2006-09-28T17:26:00.000-04:00

This week we’ve had a delegation from the Presbyterian Peace Fellowship of the U.S. visiting the church in Barranquilla, and I’ve been tagging along on their activities around the city. Cartagena is an old town on the Colombian coast, about an hour and a half from Barranquilla, that historically served as a Spanish port for the shipment of gold, and on Tuesday we drove there to meet with representatives from a Human Rights organization associated with La Universidad de Cartagena.

After the meeting, however, we had time to play, to explore the old walled-in city, visit the shops, and most exciting for me, watch a bit of the filming of the movie adaptation of Gabriel García Márquez’s novel, Amor en Los Tiempos de Cholera (Love in the Time of Cholera), which I just read a few weeks ago. The old town park was filled with cameras, horses, and folks wearing period costumes.

At the end of the day, we ate dinner on the beach overlooking the sunset. From now on, these colorful beads will represent, to me, the peaceful and beautiful Colombian coast. The ceramic necklaces are a traditional craft of folks living on the Caribbean near the town of Santa Marta, and vendors with armloads of necklaces walk up and down the sands selling them to beachgoers. We watched the swimmers, these vendors, and the waves until the owner of the beach-front restaurant rode his motorcycle to the water’s edge to invite us in for dinner.

The Dilemma of the Photo of the Day

2006-09-28T16:58:00.000-04:00

During our visit to the Loma Roja displaced community last week, we were sitting in the front room of a home waiting for our host to arrive and begin the tour. From around the corner peeked a little girl, no older than three. She and I made eye contact and I smiled and waved. She seemed encouraged, so I tapped my knee as an invitation to come closer. We held our eye contact as she slowly crossed the room to stand by my side, and when I placed my outstretched palm on my knee, she put her little hand in mine. For about ten minutes, I patted her hand and asked her whispered questions – “What’s your name?” “How are you today?” – but she just calmly gazed up at me. Traci whispered, “She’s probably never seen blue eyes before.”

Those of you who have read far back into my archives will remember that during my first week here I promised to post a “Photo of the Day” in order to share my experiences in Colombia with the folks at home. You’ll also notice that this hasn’t happened.

This moment in Loma Roja was precious for me, intimate and unexpected. After such a moment of connection, of simple joy with a small child, how could I once again distance myself behind the camera? How could I choose to take photos when I could be smiling at a little girl, or asking questions of her mother, or feeling the hot sun on my back?

I’ve been thinking a lot about photography and the power the camera wields in these already tricky situations. In the past ten days, I’ve visited four communities of displaced Colombians, and I’ve seen beautiful people and heartbreaking situations that I would love to share and remember.

When we visit these communities, we’re asking folks to welcome us into their homes and to offer their stories so we can better understand the reality of displacement in Colombia and so we can stand in solidarity with their struggle for land and justice. But it’s more complicated than that.

Visits from North Americans in the past have sometimes resulted in empty promises of money and resources. Also, I can only imagine how weird it is to have unknown folks come into your community and start snapping photos. As a North American, I recognize the power and privilege that my camera represents, how it can build walls and separate us from a moment of genuine human connection. Because of this, I’ve become more and more uncomfortable with uninvited photography in the displaced communities. These walks through neighborhoods are not zoo visits. These lives are not ours to capture, to say, “Look at the poor people in Colombia.”

For me, the community visits have become precious, as I have seen tears stemming from the pain of recalling horrific stories and I have witnessed the pride the comes from these tails of survival. I’ve also laughed and learned, like last week when my hosts, Jaime and Soledad, pointed out every fruit tree and local plant, enjoying my reaction: “Oh, papaya! Yuca! Mandarino! Límon!”

You’ll notice that I still do take photos when I’m out and about in Colombia, and I’ll probably be posting more images of displaced folks and their surroundings here and on Flickr. But lately, my photography has become only one small part of my visits, and it occurs within the context of relationships and respect, after we have established a connection. My priority must be to be in the moment, to share the human experience however briefly, rather than thinking always of the future and the perfect photo.

That said, here a picture of my friend Selys and her loro. She and I sat on the porch of her house for about half an hour as the group waited for a taxi. She drew a picture for me in my notebook and I took her photo. We considered it an artistic exchange.

Los Ernst en America Latina

2006-09-20T20:24:00.000-04:00

My brother Michael is currently in Buenos Aires, Argentina, studying urbanization, politics, sustainable development, and cultural responses to globalization as the Trustees Fellow for an International Honors Program semester abroad. In the coming weeks he'll be moving on to China and then India, but if you're interested in the parallel lives of siblings exploring politics, culture, and social action in South America, check out his website, Magical Urbanism.

International observers and human rights abuses

2006-09-20T20:11:00.000-04:00

I think this article from the online political newsletter Counterpunch offers a excellent illustration of the current situation for displaced Colombians and the need for international accompaniment as the displaced struggle for their human rights. For those of you nervous about my presence here, I want to reassure you that our work is much less intense than that described in the article (although no less important in the lives of local activists).

Thanks to Cat for bringing the article to my attention.

La Central

2006-09-16T21:22:00.000-04:00

Over 3 million Colombians are currently internally displaced, refugees within their own country, having fled their homes and lives in response to violence, threats, or changing economic situations. After Sudan and the Democratic Republic of Congo, Colombia ranks third in the world in terms of internal displacement.

As accompaniers, one of our tasks is to witness the situation in Colombia, to stand in solidarity with folks suffering from Colombia’s ongoing armed conflict and, more relevant to our lives as U.S. citizens, to see firsthand the negative impact of international policies on Colombia’s poor. Yesterday, at the invitation of Antonio, a displaced man who works to organize people to recover land and seek justice, we visited the neighborhood of La Central, a poor community located in the municipality of Soledad, on the outskirts of Barranquilla.

Although the folks we met yesterday are extremely poor, they opened their homes to us and shared often raw and painful stories about their lives and their experiences. I cannot promise money. I cannot offer resources from the United States. But, I can give these lovely people an international voice by sharing their stories and making public what is happening in Colombia. Here are a few of the voices I heard:

Antonio and his wife Doris are in the process of opening this small food stand located near one of the open plazas of the neighborhood. They plan to sell cold drinks and a variety of common Colombian snacks, mostly deep-fried, including empanadas and arepas. Ideally, Doris will be able to run the stand, supporting the couple, their daughter and her partner, and two grandchildren (5 year-old grandson Lewin is pictured here), allowing Antonio to work full-time as a community organizer. Doris told me that she doesn’t want to upset the harmony of the small-business community by competing with neighboring food stands, so her shop will be open in the afternoons and evenings after the others have closed. She used to ride a three-wheel bike cart through the neighborhood selling fish or snacks or homemade desserts, but hopes that the food stand will be a more secure and stable source of income.

Matias sat with his wife Elba in their unadorned living room. The first thing he told us was, “We have been abandoned.” They fled their town in the Department of Magdalena in response to increased paramilitary violence, and find life in La Central difficult. Before they were displaced, Matias grew all the family’s food, but in the city this is impossible. To make matters worse, as an older man he is unlikely to find work in Barranquilla’s limited job market.

This couple arrived in La Central four years ago, after the paramilitaries killed two of her brothers. They relayed to us the story of these deaths with hand gestures so graphic that they required no further translation. Their situation is much the same as Matias and Elba’s: “There’s no food, no money, no work for old men like me.” Sitting proudly throughout our visit in their newly remodeled home, the couple smiled broadly when I showed them their own images on my camera screen.

These stories of displacement are not old news. This family fled their home only two years ago, when their granddaughter Mariana was just an infant. They’ve set up a small stand selling snacks and cigarettes near the front door of their home, but note that none of the neighbors have money to buy from them. Although the family’s financial situation causes daily struggles, they finally feel safe in their new neighborhood.

We have been invited to visit several more communities during the coming week. With my still rough spanish language skills, I found it really challenging on Friday to listen, understand, and ask simple questions, so I feel I left La Central without a full understanding of the daily reality of displaced Colombians. In preparation for the next visits, I’m making a list of questions I’d like to understand, including whether the Colombian government offers any aid the families can draw on, what their daily lives look like, and how they support themselves given the scarcity of paid employment. If you think of any questions that would enhance the understanding of internal displacement from an external perspective, please post them in the comments section under this post and I’ll bring them to the communities.

¡Tornado!

2006-09-16T20:50:00.000-04:00

Yesterday during a tremendous thunderstorm a tornado touched down in Barranquilla. This came as quite a surprise since tornadoes are extremely rare in Colombia. The campus of Universidad Reformada and the IPC (where I live) was unharmed, but Colegio Americano (American School), the large elementary/highschool operated by the church, suffered considerable damage. Luckily, no students were on campus, although the same cannot be said of neighboring schools, which received much greater damage and where several children were hurt. Hundreds of Barranquilleros have been left roof-less and flooded.

Information is unclear right now, but we understand that the homes of some of our friends from UR and the Colegio Americano lost their roofs and experienced flooding. Christine and I were invited to visit the site last night but decided to respect the request that only emergency personnel travel in that part of the city. We did take a surreal taxi ride through sections of the city without power on the way to dinner, though. I never thought about how full of life and light Barranquilla is until I saw it dark and quiet at 8:00pm on a Friday night.

If I'm called on to respond to this unexpected situation in any way, I'll post stories here. While this certainly isn't a disaster on the scale of Hurricane Katrina, it has shocked the city and placed an additional burden on people already living complicated lives.

(I lifted this photo from the barranquilla newspaper's website, where you can find more photos and information in spanish.)

Technical Difficulties

2006-09-14T21:09:00.000-04:00

Friends,

A new centro comercial (mall) is being built around the corner from the presbytery office, blocking the signal to our internet antenna and frustrating everyone involved. I´ll be back with posts and photos in a few days when the server problems are fixed.

In the meantime, I recently read this quote in a novel and it has me thinking:
My job was acceptance. To keep an acceptant spirit. That´s what I learned... To accept. Not to change the world. Only to change the soul. So that it can be in the world. Be rightly in the world.
- Ursula K. LeGuin, Four Ways to Forgiveness

Thanks for visiting the blog! All is safe and well here in Barranquilla.

paz,
rachel

My Global Heritage

2006-09-11T15:20:00.000-04:00

My Colombian friends saw this photo of my family in 1981 hanging on my wall here and laughed because it looks like I have a Colombian father. It's ironic, though, because everyone knows that Dad is German:

(p.s. I'm the cute, medium-sized blond one)

So that Peace Doesn't Escape Us

2006-09-09T21:23:00.000-04:00

I was given this poster today when I attended a conference hosted by La Asamblea Permanente de la Sociedad Civil por la Paz (The Permanent Assembly of Civil Society for Peace). What I love about the image is that it absolutely reflects the nature of the Colombian activist community -- a diverse group of people from all walks of life, hopefully and cooperatively chasing after the dove of peace.

This week la Iglesia faced two challenges associated with the armed groups of Colombia, with the detention of Jaime José Correa by the police and the possible threat to M. when the paramilitaries linked his name to the FARC. When news like this reaches the presbytery, lawyers and activists immediately rush together to strategize, coordinate phone calls, visit the police station, contact family members, and activate their network contacts within Colombia and the international community.

As accompaniers, it's disheartening to sit by as the people we've come to love and respect face challenges far beyond anything experienced by community organizers in the U.S. We do what we can -- sending email alerts, accompanying people on visits to the Police -- but our role in these situations is really the same as every other day: We're here to be present, to listen attentively, to represent the solidarity of the international community, to support our brothers and sisters as they chase the dove of peace, especially in those moments when the nets ensnare them, too.

Emergency Request from the Iglesia Presbiteriana de Colombia

2006-09-09T18:36:00.000-04:00

Those of you who have been following the stories from Barranquilla over the past few years know about M.*, our friend with the long hair currently living in Bogotá. His name has once again been linked with Colombia's notorious guerrilla group, the FARC. This is, of course, not true, but the allegations are enough to possibly prompt the government to re-open his case. In order to avoid having M. jailed again, the church is working urgently to find him a safe haven outside of Colombia. The current options being investigated include Brazil and Costa Rica.

In order for this to happen, there is an urgent need for money for airfare and 2-3 months living expenses. In general, accompaniers do not engage in fundraising or offer on-the-ground financial contributions, but leaders here in Barranquilla have asked me and Christine to pass along this request for emergency contributions to folks in the States. Those of you wishing to make a financial contribution for the safety of our friend M. can arrange an international money transfer to an account in the name of the Colombian Presbyterian Church.

Cuenta Corriente No. 07405677-1
Código Swift: bschcobb
A nombre de Iglesia Presbiteriana de Colombia
Banco Santander – Oficina Principal
Calle 79 No. 55-13
Barranquilla, Colombia

Please continue hold M. in the light. He’s had a rough few years. We will send updates as we learn more.

* For security reasons, we would prefer not to reveal M.’s full name in relation to this request. If you need more information, email me for some links to articles, or contact previous accompaniers who can safely share the story from the U.S.

peace,
Rachel & Christine

Update: Jaime José Correa

2006-09-06T09:27:00.000-04:00

We have good news to report. Jaime José Correa was released from detention Tuesday morning and is safe. There are several conflicting stories about the justification for his arrest and folks here in Barranquilla are investigating the situation. We will give you more information when we have it. Thank you for your concerns and your prayers.

Peace,
Christine & Rachel, accompaniers

Rosie

2006-09-06T09:24:00.000-04:00

My grandmother, Rosemary Loughnane Meyer, died Tuesday in Northern Kentucky at age 89. She had been living with Alzheimer’s for several years and suffered a debilitating stroke in May. She died surrounded by her seven children, her husband, and other loved ones.

I’m here in Colombia and my brother Michael is in Argentina, so we sadly cannot be with the family at this time. Also, while visiting Grandma in the nursing home on Monday, Mom broke her arm in three places.

What I’m saying is, the Ernst/Loughnane family needs some love right now.

Urgent Alert from Barranquilla

2006-09-04T18:14:00.000-04:00

This morning at 10am, Jaime José Correa, vice-President of ANDESCOL (Asociación Nacional de Desplazados Colombianos, Atlántico; National Association of Displaced Colombians, Atlantic Region), was detained by the police while at the ANDESCOL headquarters in Barranquilla. He was waiting to meet with another individual who never arrived. A neighbor called Jaime’s wife to inform her of his detention.

Lawyers and accompaniers went with Jaime’s son to the Police station in Barranquilla and learned that it was indeed the police who detained him. We don’t know specific charges at this time, nor do we know when he will be released.

We ask for your prayers in this matter and we will keep you informed as new information arises.

Peace,
Rachel & Christine

La Vida Cotidiana

2006-09-04T10:40:00.000-04:00

Maybe one of my biggest challenges since arriving in Barranquilla a week ago has been adjusting to the pace of life here in Colombia. Before I arrived, I read in the accompaniment manual that on a scale of 1-10, with 10 being highly stressful, the daily life of an accompanier is usually a 1 or a 2. This has proved to be true in more ways than I expected.

Last summer when I visited Bogotá and Barranquilla as part of a Witness for Peace delegation, our days were filled with visits to multiple agencies and multiple communities, to the U.S. Embassy and the Colombian military. We were constantly on the go and dealing with information overload.

As an accompanier, I've stepped into the everyday life of these Colombian activists, which means that the pace of life is slower than I imagined. There are occasional meetings and visits to displaced communities, and we attend services at a different church every Sunday, but on a daily basis, accompaniment simply means being present and available as everyone goes about their lives in the office and the city.

Christine and I must seek creative ways to fill our days. Luckily, the office shares a campus with La Universidad Reformada, so we're usually surrounded by students who love sharing their city with us. We've gone out for cocktails, billiards games, birthday parties, meals at restaurants, and, I'm somewhat ashamed to admit, I went to the Buena Vista mall TWICE this weekend (!) (once for ice cream and a bookstore, the second time to see a movie). (Stepping into a Colombian mall is like transporting yourself to a U.S. suburb where everyone speaks spanish and walks reallly slowly.)

In general, life here is more fun than work right now, although this will vary week to week. In the meantime, I'm studying and practicing spanish, prepping for the english class I've been asked to teach, reading, writing, siesta-ing, taking photos, and welcoming this gift of Colombian time and space.

Week 1 Review: Top 5ives

2006-09-02T22:09:00.000-04:00

Things I'm Thinking About
1. "To be a witness is too neutral; Be a friend, a brother, a sister."
2. Peace is a result of justice; It grows through work, not just from prayer.
3. Justice demands "Rehumanizing the Human", building community by teaching each other how to work as communities
4. What it means to understand and to be understood, through language, culture, body, and presence
5. How to simply be -- not moving, not doing, not hurrying, not scheduling -- just being present in solidarity.

New Things I'm Doing
1. Teaching an english class
2. Playing oboe in the community orchestra
3. Eating fish
4. Speaking spanish
5. Daily yoga

Things I Love:
1. Living a culture of peace
2. Breaking away from the routine of academia
3. Germán, Gustavo, Camilo, Ramón, Gloria, Elias, Christine, Amy, Armando, Giovanny, Yolbetis, Chery, Milciades, Jackie, Diego, Flor, Julio y más...
4. Arequipe (dulce de leche ice cream flavor)
5. Colombian hospitality

Things I Miss:
1. Cappuccinos
2. Quakers
3. Autumn
4. Mike, Lori, Sarah, Michael, Beth, Gabe, Mom, Dad, Ann, other Sarah, Leila, Beatrice, other Michael, and more...
5. Having my own kitchen

Barranquilla Contact Info

2006-09-02T00:03:00.000-04:00

In addition to having a wireless internet signal in my room, I also have a cell phone. It's probably quite expensive to call from the United States, but incoming calls are free for me to receive. When calling from a U.S. phone, the number is:

011-57-313-544-8643

Also, I love mail! Letters, postcards, photos, organic snacks from Bloomingfoods, English-language magazines, and so on, can all find me at:

Rachel Ernst, Accompañante
Iglesia Presbiteriana de Colombia
Carrera 46 No. 48-50
Barranquilla, Colombia

And I write back, too!

Bocas de Ceniza

2006-09-01T14:58:00.000-04:00

Yesterday we had a beautiful day! Gustavo invited me, Amy, and Christine to his house for lunch (see my flickr account for photos of us wearing hats from around the world) and then we had drinks at a restaurant that sits above the waters of the Magdalena River. It was so beautiful and tranquil, watching the birds and enjoying a break from the overwhelming heat of the city.

From the restaurant, we rode a rickety little train powered by a motorboat engine out to Bocas de Ceniza, the area where the Magdalena River meets the Caribbean Sea. Rio Magdalena is Colombia's biggest and most important river and this area is called The Port of Gold because of all the commerce it brings into the country. Bocas de Ceniza was built in the 1930s to make navigation easier and is basically a long strip of land that juts out 10 kilometers to divide the fresh and salty water. It's called Bocas de Ceniza (Mouths of Ashes) because when the waters mix they have a gray, ashy look.

I was expecting a beautiful view, but I wasn't expecting to also find a community of poor fishermen living and working on this narrow, rocky jetty, so far from the city and its amenities. Beautiful, old, wooden boats line the shore and the homes are tiny and weathered by the waves and the sun. Some of the men fish with nets, but many use a complicated (yet brilliant) fishing system involving a kite, a bottle of water, and four baited hooks, which this man demonstrated for me and Amy.

After being used to construct the jetty, the train tracks that connect Barranquilla to Bocas de Ceniza had been closed for almost 30 years. In 2003, Colombia's president ordered them open again in order to boost the economy of the area. As a tourist trap, Bocas de Ceniza is unlike anything I've ever experienced. Multiple small trains (trencitas) share the single track, so at three times during our 10 kilometer trip we had to step off and wait as the conductors lifted the train off the track to allow another to pass. Close to the end of the jetty, the tracks had been so jostled by the water and rocks that the wooden planks lie scattered at severe angles. Along the way, we passed several small clusters of houses built between the tracks and the sea, where residents sell snacks, water, and beer from coolers. We bought four waters for 1200 pesos, or just over 50 cents total. In addition to tourists, the train tracks also service the fisherman by allowing them to transport their fish into town and collect fresh water. One fisherman and his giant, two-foot-long catch rode the train back with us. We learned that he would make approximately 70,000 Colombian pesos selling it, probably to a local restaurant at the end of the tracks. This should be enough money to take care of his needs for a few weeks.

El tiburón arbóreo

2006-09-01T00:53:00.000-04:00

Everyone told me to be careful when visiting Colombia, but why didn't anyone warn me about the tree sharks?!

Blah.

2006-08-30T14:49:00.000-04:00

Unfortunately, this is the most exciting Picture of the Day I can come up with today. I've been feeling sick since last night and had to skip today's activities. I took this photo during the brief moment when I escaped from bed to sit in the sun. We can all thank Mike and JD for giving me mirror toes on my last day in Indiana. I might be feeling well enough tonight to go to a birthday party, though, which will be an interesting opportunity for getting to know the folks around here.

Photo of the Day!

2006-08-29T18:33:00.001-04:00

There's so much to say about life in Barranquilla, even though I'm not doing much yet. So, I've decided to post a daily photo as a way to share my experiences here and jumpstart some stories.

I took this photo from the balcony of the building where I'm living. It's kinda a multi-purpose building, housing offices of the Universidad Reformada (Reformed University), classrooms, meeting space, and the accompaniment bedrooms. We each have a bedroom, private bathroom, and access to a tiny shared kitchen. In the middle, there's a courtyard with benches and palm trees. I've adopted one of the benches as my hang-out spot for reading and resting (and finding a strong wireless connection).

Even though it's the rainy season, we haven't seen much rain, although I was greeted by a torrential downpour when driving to campus from the airport. The sky is always blue and although Barranquilla is a big, crowded city, there are palm trees, iguanas, sqwaking birds, and other glimpses into the natural beauty of coastal Colombia.

I've added a few Colombia photos to my flickr account (link to the right) and I plan on adding more every few days or so.

Bienvenido a Colombia!

2006-08-28T16:43:00.000-04:00

Well, I arrived safely in Barranquilla on Saturday afternoon after a super long day of travel. The week has started slowly, which gives me time to explore local restaurants with my fellow accompaniers and to hang out with the group of young folks who attend the university. I've inherited an awesome group of friends, thanks to the social efforts made by the accompaniers who came before me.

Speaking spanish is completely humbling. At times I can carry on full conversations, at other times I'm completely stumped. Luckily, I have plently of time to study and plenty of opportunities for practicing.

This morning I was told that accompaniment is primarily about learning from each other, listening and witnessing, and creating community through solidarity and presence. I feel myself on the brink of some transformation, although I can't possibly predict what will happen here.

Thanks to everyone who sent me supportive messages and shared hugs as I was preparing to leave the States. I feel completely safe and tended to and, if anything, I suspect that I'm going to benefit from being part of this amazing community of hope in ways far greater than I what I contribute through my presence.

Hotel Cartagena, Cartagena

2006-08-08T22:53:00.000-04:00

In order to advance my agenda of learning as much as I can about Colombia before August 26th, Dad, Mike, and I watched the movie Romancing the Stone (1984) at the suggestion of Aunt Mary and Uncle John. Here's what the movie taught me:

1. Colombians speak Spanish, but mostly just to say "vámonos!" (and in a Mexican accent)
2. Cartagena is overrun with crocodiles.
3. In any sticky situation, I'll find someone who speaks English, even in the most remote campo.
4. On any bus or other form of public transportation, someone will be carrying a pig.

Frequently Asked Questions

2006-07-25T15:11:00.001-04:00

1. Hey Rachel, what's all this about you going to Colombia for the fall?

It's true. I'll be living and working in Barranquilla, Colombia, a city on the Caribbean coast, throughout September, October, and November.

2. What will you be doing there?

I'm going to be acting as an international protective accompanier with a group of pastors, union leaders, human rights workers, and internally displaced Colombians.

3. International Protective Accompaniment? What's that?

The situation in Colombia is complicated, but it essentially boils down to the fact that people working for change and social justice in their communities can often find themselves under attack from the powers that be. In the case of Barranquilla, this tends to be members of an illegal paramilitary group. The threats can mean that human rights workers receive threatening phone calls, are illegally detained, and in some horrible cases, kidnapped or killed.

The philosophy behind accompaniment is that those who commit violent acts are less likely to do so in the presence of an international witness. Groups such as the Christian Peacemaker Teams and Peace Brigades International offer accompaniment to threatened groups, individuals, and communities around the globe, including in Iraq, Israel and Palestine, and other parts of Latin America.

In 2004, after a series of threats by the paramilitaries, a collection of pastors and human rights workers affiliated with the Presbyterian Church of Colombia asked the Presbyterian Peace Fellowship of the Presbyterian Church (USA) to send accompaniers to spend time in their communities. I'm not Presbyterian, but I feel called to accept this invitation.

4. What will you do as an accompanier?

The beauty of accompaniment is that it creates a safe space for people working for change at the local level to continue to do so, simply due to the presence of international folks standing in solidarity. As a result, I don't expect to DO much. I will, however, be present for meetings, visits to communities of displaced Colombians, church services, and other parts of the daily lives of the people associated with the Presbyterian Church of Colombia. In general, I expect to get much more out of the situation than I give.

5. Will you be safe?

Yes. The Colombians work very hard to keep their accompaniers safe and I trust them completely. They pay close attention to the changing situation in their region and are always alert to possible dangers. I will be living within a gated community and I will always be guided by well-informed and cautious people. Since the program started, no accompanier has been hurt or threatened.

A previous accompanier described this best:
"As accompaniers we are very lovingly watched over by the churchpeople who have invited us to walk with them. Accompaniers are not targets for violence, and we receive constant advice and assistance from our hosts as far as street smarts and sensitivity to any tensions go."

6. How did this happen? Weren't you a grad student?

Last summer, I went to Colombia as part of a delegation with Witness for Peace, during which I came to respect the work of the people in Barranquilla, who live with great hope and great love, despite very challenging circumstances. I loved the idea of being an accompanier, of simply giving my time and attention to people already working for great change, so it felt like a good fit when I decided to take a break from grad school and explore what else the world has to offer.

7. Is this a job? How will you support yourself?

Unfortunately, neither the Presbyterian Peace Fellowship nor the IPC (Presbyterian Church of Colombia) have the funds to fully support the accompaniment program. Therefore, the program is currently thriving due to the generosity of volunteers and donors. I'll be provided housing in Barranquilla, but am responsible for paying for my own food, airfare, and other expenses.

8. How can I help?

Stay informed! One goal of the accompaniment program is to give voice to the experiences of individuals living and working for peace in Colombia. I'll share stories through this blog, and you can also explore the links on the side.

To donate to the Colombia Accompaniment Program, visit the PC(USA)'s Online Donations Page or join the Presbyterian Peace Fellowship.

To donate to my own living expenses, email me. I'd be grateful for any financial support, especially because I hope to be able to afford to stay in Barranquilla until the end of November.

9. Wait, I have other questions for you.

Leave questions and comments in the comments section. Or email me!

I hope this blog can help me stay in touch with the folks at home.

Next Stop: Barranquilla

2006-07-18T18:58:00.000-04:00

"In Colombia each year, for the corruption, the social and political violence, 30,000 people die... And here nothing happens?"