I can’t believe two months have passed already… so many transitions- mental, physical- and I feel there is still a lot to be processed. It is hard to believe I am headed back to Uraba on Tuesday!
Coming out of the rural jungle war zone to the capital metropolis of Bogota provided for some of the strangest and most intense culture shock I had every experienced. It never ceases to amaze me the different realities in which people live in this world, and it never ceases to amaze me how adaptable we are as human beings. The transition is always hard and intense and seemingly shakes up everything inside me, but then it is just over… without so much as a goodbye. Here I am, two months later, feeling as if I have always been in Bogota. As if it has always been home. As if two months ago the turmoil of my mind and body in the transition never actually existed. How strange.
In Bogota, the work is different. In December Jon and I quietly accompanied contentious-objector clowns in their direct actions in public parks, as they tried to spread the word about the army’s illegal recruitment practices. We drank chai teas at meetings inside the US Embassy compound, where the words coming out of my mouth about our concern for Peace Community members under paramilitary threats were pumped with mental images of the families I know there. We talk with our counterpart organizations not only about Uraba, but about Colombia as a whole and learn about different communities and different movements and the world of human rights in this country. We read the paper. We have internet. We publish articles and work on pop-ed materials. We plan for the Autstrian delgates, who arrive this week- setting up meetings and logistics and picking restaurants for their visit. We respond to our team in La Union, and we back them up in meetings with other organizations and state entities, and with the diplomatic core. We plan events around the upcoming anniversaries of the community and we participate in planning for the alternative Summit of the Americas. We deal with the escalation from our December urgent action of paramilitary threats in La Esperanza to a New Year 2012 full Paramilitary take-over of the entire Uraba region (more on that in a later post). We work a lot on a wide-array of issues. I dig it.
In Bogota, life is different. On a personal level, December was spent mainly culture shocking in Bogota. We wear our own clothing. We shop in markets where we can get any and all food items, not only what is in season. We take hot showers and drink cold drinks. We have good cell phone service and access to the internet. We are anonymous and unimportant in a large urban space; our presence gives no more life to this city than anyone’s. And all of that, once I settled into it, was extremely refreshing.
Over the holidays, I went home to Minneapolis, where the lack of snow had my culture shock pumped with even more confusion and a general feeling of of ‘where am i?’ and ‘when am i?’. I marinated in the love of friends and family and I reconnected with people whom I hadn’t seen all year. The life pf an ex-pat means missing so many things and so I met new babies and heard about missed weddings. I heard engagement announcements and agreed to be maid of honor in my best friend’s wedding. I saw live music. I played broomball on ice. I fattened up on delicious north country foods. I let old friends and close family fill me up with their warm love and caring support. I talked about Colombia and work and I talked about other places and people and things and it was all a holidazzle whirlwind pumped with my culture shock. I rung in the New Year state-side with dear friends and then I flew back to Bogota. I landed in the metropolis for the second time in two months, but this time I didn’t feel overwhelmed at all. This time I felt: ahh, this is where I am meant to be.
I started dating a boy named Cristian. At his cousin’s wedding, I wore a long silk dress and high-heeled shoes. His mother’s side of the family is from Cali (salsa dancing capital of the world) and the bride and groom’s first dance as a married couple was a fast-paced salsa. In fact, watching some of the best salsa I have ever seen (in formal wear, mind you) was pretty much a highlight of my Colombian existence so far. Salsa in formal wear… a far cry from vallenato in rubber boots.
Jon’s birthday weekend took us to Choachi, a town outside of Bogota. With one $4, 1 hr bus ride you can disappear over the mountains from Bogota and find yourself in a landscape that resembles pastoral England. There was literally no sign of the city in site. We went to this lazy town during the city’s municipal festival (which means we went there with half of Bogota) and danced salsa to La 33 in the plaza and strolled small towns streets eating Feria food. We hiked to “hot springs” (which turned out to be cold pools) and enjoyed fresh country air. I am still in my honeymoon phase with the city, but it felt good to know I can easily escape the concrete jungle, if I ever need to.
Last night Jon and I had dinner at Liza and Mika’s. They live in an old house in the historic downtown of Bogota. Their landlord estimates the home is some 500 years old. The entryway mosaicked floor includes stone and brick and pig bone (a show of wealth from the time). Mika’s dog has been digging up and eating the pig bone. That’s right, gnawing on 500 year old pig-bone. This, along with much of our warm and happy dinner conversation, blew my mind.
My life in the capital has been filled with dinner parties (my wild rice soup was a hit- even among the Colombians!) and north country food contraband, including all sorts of delicious cheeses. My life has been weekend strolls in city parks and silly city evening dates with Cristian. My life has been dancing salsa in clubs and in kitchens and making people laugh with my ability to sing vallenato hits. My life has been sunny early mornings with a cup of coffee, overlooking the mountains that surround the city and late afternoon puddle jumping in the typical evening downpours. My life has been images of the 11 million residents, each of them an individual: 100s of people walking over bridges on their way to the office in the morning, bike messengers weaving through traffic, store owners mopping the concrete outside their tiendas, bus drivers hanging out of the side of their busses to smoke a cigarette. My life has been adjusting to these people being the life of the concrete jungle, breathing life into the city’s walls. My life has been exploring neighborhoods and picturing myself living in them, walking crosstown for meetings in various parts of the city and observing my co-inhabitants along the way. My life has been reflecting on the time I spent in the war zone and preparing to live there again. My life has been delicious foods and evening cocktails, cold drinks and hot showers, house parties, weekend getaway trips and skype calls to make far-away friends seem closer. I have settled into it. I have been completely taken by Bogota, and am looking forward to life here again come April.
This weekend a dear friend from Guatemala is visiting, we have Isaac and Elisabeth in town (they are leading the arriving Austrian delegation), the Austrian delegation taking over our apartment, and Gina in full-on pack, organize and move mode. Should provide for a flurry of activity leading up to my departure.
On Tuesday I head back to the community for two months. I will travel the same day that, 10 years ago, the very first FOR volunteers hiked to La Union to begin permanent accompaniment. I will go back to the community on FOR’s 10th Anniversary with the Peace Community of San Jose Apartado, and that feels wonderful.
