Lila Downs came
to a historical downtown theatre. Lila danced cumbia, merengue, ranchera and flamenco
steps to her own voice. She was a vision in purple, complimenting her flowing
dresses and tightly bodiced top with shawls and hats and huipiles, depending on the style of the song she sang- some quincinera, gypsy, lizard, trojan
princess. Liza, Mika and I sat in the balcony; we leaned in. Lila’s Mexican
accent and modismos has me missing
Central America. Her song interlude chitchats about violence and indigenous
languages were, in and of themselves, a complimentary combination package of pecados and milagros. Walking downtown in the blistering wind on the way home
from her concert, I felt so alive and reminded of all the things that happen in
a city every single night.
Lately I have
been thinking a lot about living 100% in accordance with one’s beliefs. And the
honesty that takes. And how many levels there are to that idea. And both
theoretically and in practice (ahem)… what would that even look like? I have been thinking about concrete actions like shopping
according to ones ethics to not blindly benefit a capitalistic system and working
according to ones’ beliefs to ensure that individual income is not at the
expense of ideals. I have been thinking about making personal decisions to
benefit the whole. I have also had lots of conversations about the whole mess
of an idea of living according to one’s beliefs. In my case, how it is that I will
continue to grow and not sacrifice my idealism (as so many have told me I would
eventually) or “grow up” to be a “functioning member of society”, but rather to
cradle that idealism and continuously challenge the injustices of society. To
not blame yearning for a safer, gentler society in retrospect on innocence and
young age, but rather embrace that yearning and nourish it all through life-
giving it fuel with more experience. To be able to be realistic and idealistic-
to see all of the harsh realities of the world and be willing to put all the
energy it takes to make them better. I have been thinking a lot about all of
this. I have come to very few conclusions… rather more ideas. I suppose that is
ok. The journal my grandma gave me last year has an Emerson quote on the
inside: Thoughts are the seeds of actions.
June has many
Monday holidays making for several long weekends. Of course, as the Bogota FOR
team, one of us always has to be on call. Emily went out of town for a weekend
and I found myself suddenly on call and sola. I simultaneously enjoyed time
alone and had separation anxiety from Emily. I baked potpies and ran the
ciclovia. I danced salsa and went to a concert of Liza and Mika’s. I wrote a
lot. I read a lot. I bought my first new pair of ballet shoes in ten years. I
worked.
The first week of
June had the whole team in Bogota for our mental health day. Those are nice.
Particularly because our work-load and rate has been in high-gear all month.
Here are some highlights:
On June 14th
FOR, along with 7 other international protective accompaniment organizations, hosted
a forum and cocktail to celebrate FOR’s 10 years in Colombia and demonstrate
why our work is still necessary in the current context of the Santos
government. Picture amazing speeches by individuals from the Colombian state, human
rights sector, diplomatic corps and communities in resistance depicting the
importance of international accompaniment and their hope for peace to a full
conference room. Picture photos on the wall representing all eight
accompaniment organizations and the work they do in various regions country.
(Diplomatic rep: “you guys are really out
there!”) Picture Gina, in formal wear, drinking wine and talking with state
officials about why massacres are bad. Life as performance art?
The third week of
June our second issue of the popular education series, “Demilitarizing Life and
Land,” went to press. It was all about the War on Drugs and has taken up a lot
of my time over the last months. I am excited to see it all pretty and printed.
Two
representatives from the Peace Community came to Bogota for a string of
meetings and political work. Emily and I met up with them and ate mangoes and
talked about travel and life and Uraba. It was good to hug them. Sometimes
Uraba feels so very far away.
There was a sentencing
on the 2005 massacre against the CdP. Susana’s article here:
http://forusa.org/blogs/for-colombia/limited-ruling-paves-way-for-international-criminal-court/10657
Eduar Lancheros,
a key advisor to the Peace Community, died of cancer this week. The team in the
Peace Community is currently participating in his vigil and funeral. He will
permanently rest in the Peace Community vereda of LH. Spanish speakers can read
about his life in the lovely obituary from Justicia y Paz here:
My co-worker Elisabeth is from Austria. She writes in German. This month she wrote for our monthly update in English and now I want her to go ahead and translate every blog she has ever written. As an additional tidbit about her co-existence with animals, the cat gave birth in her bed this week:
http://forusa.org/blogs/for-colombia/giraffes-dragons/10653
Mid-month,
swimming against the undertow in a sea of work, I decided I seriously needed a
break. I needed to leave Bogota. I
needed to leave the emergency phone
behind and not deal with anything
work for at least one weekend. I was beginning to freak out
about this. As if to reaffirm the truth that the universe does indeed conspire
for the dreamer, a farm boy appeared in my urban life and invited me out to the
campo for the weekend. And as if to remind myself that people are good, I took
the invitation from this near stranger and headed out to his farm house seven
hours west of Bogota. I spent the weekend looking at cows and moving horses
from one pasture to the next. I watched this family in their process of building
a house out of bamboo (by hand) and was reminded of my Aunt Mary Lu in Big Sur.
I saw men chop wood with machetes, framed by rolling green hills and the blue
ridge of the mountains. I spent lazy mornings staring out at vast views
stretching toward Cauca and el Choco while drinking hot chocolate. In the
evening, I heard rolling thunder and Manuel told me sometimes you can hear the
combats all the way from el Choco. I sorted avocados and picked guavas from trees. I sat in the
sun, at the river’s edge and smelled the forest. I decided Pereira smells like
summer. An old man who lives on the finca told us stories at dusk of ghosts and
gnomes and apparitions. He told us of a panther that killed cows and men when
it roamed these hills and jungle thirty years ago. I slept under a mosquito net
and sweat on a long walk through rolling green pastures with sweeping mountain
views. I listened to frogs and chickens and stared wide-eyed at the stars. It
was lovely and just what a Gina needed.
Liza turned 35.
As the birthday girl, she hosted Birthday Bingo. (She also won the first round
(rigged, obviously) and with it, a Rubik’s cube.) Everyone brought a gift for
birthday bingo prizes and they were cool and eclectic, just like the people who
brought them. Mika made the most awesome of deserts. I was thrilled to
celebrate with them in their beautiful home, with their wonderful friends.
Emily turned 31. We
talked about our ability to remember “a year ago today” so clearly on our
birthday. How we can remember, on this specific day, where we were and what we
did every single year of our lives. And how hard this is to do for any other
day. We talked about how far we have come from a year ago today- celebrating
her 30th birthday in the Peace Community over empanadas and a large
contingency of children under the age of seven. This year we walked the city
and had lunch on a half sleety, half sunny day. We strolled through the Parque
Nacional and enjoyed a few Bogota Beers. It was a great day. We decided she
should go ahead and have a birthday everyday.
June was dancing
salsa. Dancing salsa in a studio, ripping up my feet before I bought some
shoes. It was dancing salsa in an underground club on a deserted sketchy street
where we were pleasantly surprised with badass salsa dancers wearing keds. It
was dancing salsa in a famous, sweaty salsa club on a Thursday night in formal
wear, celebrating the success of our event. June was strolling on Saturdays and
stopping into a vivero near my house to
be among plants in my treeless neighborhood; to smell jungle life. It was browsing
through bookstores and smiling at English titles. June was the smell of Emily’s
(urban garden grown!) rosemary and onion bread baking in our oven, and her
black bean chocolate brownies (an new favorite). June was reconnecting with friends
in the capital and abroad, both celebrating and sending birthday wishes. June
was David’s arrival to the team with English literature in tow, lavendar sprigs
in my urban garden, running the ciclovia, getting outta town and celebrating
work well done. June was the loss of light when we didn’t pay our energy bill-
cold showers and no stove which reminded us of campo living conditions. June
brought the longest game of cut-throat I have ever played. We headed to a pool
hall after work and, as players pool, we scratched so many times that we had
three rounds in one. June was the first month of summer, which we tend to
forget while living abroad, but with every flip of the calendar I am closer to
my August trip home.
This coming long
weekend brings July. It also brings Rock al Parque (biggest rock fest in Latin
America, right here in Bogota) and PRIDE. Picture me in fake eyelashes and
rainbow tights, covered in glitter, grand jete-ing down the street in a
fabulous parade. Picture me busting a move in a crowd of manic concert goers.
All of my visions for this weekend have me cracking a smile, in overt
conspiracy with the future.
