Most of the time, I feel like I am an actor in a bad Hollywood war movie. I don’t think it helps that many of our code names for people are names of A listers.
While in the process of writing an article, I went on an investigative hike up to the recently abandon military encampment just adjacent to (at times, arguably on) the Peace Community property of La Union. I took many photos, which will be uploaded shortly. You can see just how far the Peace Community was from the trenches. Not far. In response to the post overlooking the gate to LU, Emily said: “Well, I guess they knew when we came and went.” I went up to the filo with a neighbor. He didn’t warn me about the stuffed fatigues and when we walked up on them, I thought we were walking up on a corpse. I gasped. He said it was just one of their tricks to draw fire. A scarecrow military man overlooking the Peace Community… spooky enough to keep me away. The only military term crossing my mind as we traversed through the abandoned encampment was RETREAT, but my neighbor coaxed me along. He explained the different tactics they used to know people were coming. He showed me where they played cards (flipping a moldy deck into 52 card pick up) and how they gathered water and where they slept. The trenches were spooky. The abandoned tents were spooky. Everything about it was spooky. “Look,” he said, “only a couple months since they left and the jungle is already retaking the area.” He continued along, and I said I didn’t want to follow anymore. He asked why not. I said, in reference to the land mines neither of us were talking about,: “I want to go back to my country with two legs.” He said, “I want to go back to my house with two legs.” I said, “Let’s.” He laughed.
I heard the closest combat since I’ve been in the community a couple of weeks ago. I was in bed. It sounded like it was right outside my window (which figuratively I could say it was, but literally there was a bit more space). It made me wonder just how loud those machine guns are to those actually firing them.
We were talking about all the recent killings the day that the young man’s body was brought into the community for his vigil. He died that night while crossing the river. A neighbor sighed, then looked at me and said, “here even the river is an assassin.”
FOR in Colombia also accompanies organizations outside of the Peace Community. Emily and Isaac went on an accompaniment in Medellin. They accompanied the Red Jovenil, an amazing group of young people who are contentious objectors (they can legally be so as of last year in Colombia) and who threw an anti-militarization festival. There were bands and shows and theatre performances all in the lovely city center. They spoke out about resistance to all forms of domination- from capitalism to machismo. Emily came home with amazing pamphlets and newsletters and stories. It was so good. To hear about resistance in the cities, with the youth and outside the context of San Jose de Apartado. Tunnel vision, I think, happens to us all in our daily lives. We forget about things that happen outside our small little world. The accompaniment was just what we needed to remember that the fight is happening all over, and that the world is oh so big.
We have all been on the move so much that Emily, Sean and I have not all three been in the same place for more than 24 hours in more than two weeks. I spent my first days and nights alone in LU. When a hen climbed onto Emily’s desk and made everything fall, I thought for sure a small child was playing “jump out at Gina.” They have realized I don’t like this game and they think it’s hilarious. My dad use to play it with a monster mask on when I was a child. It scared the shit out of me. Now I am in a war zone and of the opinion that nobody should jump out at me. Ever. Kids hung out a lot while I was alone. Mostly I didn’t mind. In the end being alone wasn’t so bad. I fell asleep to the rain like always and had visitors like always and did a lot of work like always. I was pretty proud of my lack of fear. When Emily came back we were staring from the kitchen over to the wooden house and commenting on how in the world we managed to have ten kids so quickly. They were wildly swinging in hammocks. Emily said, “Isn’t that what the monkeys do in the zoo… climb the hammocks up to the wooden beams and then hang there?” It sure was. We stared in awe.
The kittens grew large enough to be terrorized by the neighbor children. They used to think riding on my shoulders was bad, but when the kids came around they started actually clawing their way up my bare skin to take refuge there. Yesterday we gave them away. We will see if they stay away.
It is zapote season. We eat them in abundance.
Emily made banana cake. She looked like a house-fire victim in search of the fireman- hanging her head out from the one foot square window in the stove shack of our neighbor, smoke billowing out from around her head as she gasped for air.
The 20th was Colombia’s Independence. We did not realize this until we tried to get in touch with the general and were told he was “at the parade.” We asked our neighbors why they didn’t tell us it was Independence Day. They said, “well I didn’t know that either.” Alternative education.
The older I get and the more time I spend in Latin America, the less I think about traditional culture shock and the more I think about personal life shock. The other day I was listening to my cousin sing, like I have since forever. His cd was pouring from the office computer. His voice was competing with an artillery helicopter. When I arrived at the internet café today I was reminded that this month is my ten year high school reunion. Memory and growth and bringing everything you are everywhere you go… life really is a strange one.
Tomorrow I take off for Cauca. It is very far away from where I am. It’s my turn to go travel and accompany and see how wonderful it is what people do to improve our world.
