queVean

empanadas

2005-10-10T15:12:00.000-05:00

Last night I made empanadas under the strict instruction of our 7 year old friends. Well, I say "made", in reality I was meerly the onion chopper, the real work was done by the experts - the kids.

I arrived in Bogota on friday evening and on Saturday after doing some errands in town boarded a small bus that bundled me off to the edge of the city, past the glistening apartment blocks of the weathy bogotanos and into the San Luis neighbourhood, a ramshackle illegal* settlement home to thousands of internal refugees from all over the country.

I was here a few weeks ago with the delegation but due to our packed agenda didnt have the chance to recount our visit - I should have done - something special is happening here. We came to visit the Casa Taller de Ninos y Jovenes (Kids and young peoles house workshop) a youth project which left a inspirational impresion upon all of us.

Nicolasa, a friend and the founder of the project moved to the area about five years ago. Exhausted by the seemingly worsening situation in the country and the stressful world of human rights, high politics and fruitless judical followups in which she was engrossed she moved to San Luis to try and get away. Indeed, despite the harsh poverty of the area it is a potential escape, its location is nothing short spectacular, overlooking the seemingly infinately expansive bogota below and backed by the majestic Andes, coated in thick forest that nourishes the cool clear air. But her retreat didnt last long before the situation of the kids whom she played football with on the scraps of wasteland inbetween the houses promted action.

Begining in her house she started a sort of aferschool club providing a place kids could go and be kids, an activity which for many was possible neither at home nor or at school. As the group grew, her house overflowing with energetic younsters it soon became necessary for the burgening project to have its own building.

When we arrived a few weeks ago what we saw was a small but neat four room building with an inner courtyard. The kids collectively gave a presentation, efortlessly switching presenter unrehearsed from one to other as they described with eloquent speech and their own wonky photos what had been there before - little more than a ruin. With an inspirational spark from nicolasa and some techinical help from some locals on bricklaying and rendering the kids built their own social centre up from that ruin. They were quite rightly damn proud of it. There was a garden too, also previously a wasteland which they had cleared - and where now, just two weeks since my last visit stands a plastic greenhouse full of freshly planted veg, a duckpond full of ducks laying breakfast every morning and a pen housing a rowdy young goat.

Of course it hasnt been and is not still without problems. Nicolasa recounts that when it opened her idea was to have no rules but what resulted was chaos. Kids would steal the toys donated to the house, leave it in a mess and fight each other and her. The rules however, she did not impose but were arrived upon collectively by the kids and as such are now much better respected. Thre exists thus a real sense of collective responbsibility - for the stuff and the place but also for each other. In their presentation they explained their decision making and conflict resolution process - a weekly meeting (and impromptu when neccessary) where everyone tells each other, with no holds barred, exactly what others have done to piss them off but also and perhaps more importantly what they have done thats pissed off other people and how to move on. Its incredible to see in action, and is the most effective participatory decision making/conflict resolution body I have encountered and one in which the dynamic between adults and kids is without doubt a horizontal one.

Thats not to say that kids dont go for advice to some of the grownups. Nicolasa reads all the kids school reports and provides help in areas where they are failing but she neither does their homework nor forces them to do it - simply states that its up to them and they are capable of it. What she is militant about and what differentiates this project from so many others is that its not charity or telling the kids theyre are victims. Yeah they have lived through some shit that would keep a shrink drinking whisky till he dies if these kids were to make it to their forties in the UK, but what is made clear is that if they want to get out of the cycle its up to them - no one will do it for them.

Normally, for those with nothing in capitalist society there are two possible routes: charity or individualism red in tooth and claw - handouts or handguns. What has been achieved here in san luis transcends this individualistic/colectivist binary - yeah the kids get fuckall if if they do fuckall but equally, everyone is responisible for everyone else, if someone cant be bothered to do something then others will motivate them. Whats touched me also here i spose is that something like this proves that we can look after each other, that when we have a collective sense of ownership, of responsiblity and community, the desire to screw your brother in the ground is not set in stoney nature as we are so often told but a social construct that can be broken. Ok, maybe for many of the parents this hope is futile or at least very distant but starting with kids and it working i opening real spaces of change.

Its things like this where real change on a small scale is visible that make me question the tail-chasing that us as activists embark upon with our high profile adventures. Dont get me wrong, I still think all fronts of attack are necessary and valid and will keep chadsing my tail until im a little older. But im glad to know that if i do get disillusioned there are other avenues.

Over the last year or so word has spread on the sucess of the project. even to the mayor of bogota knocking on the door offering a new roof and the desperatly needed relaible funding for the centre. Of course, this being on the condition of a sign outside advertising the virtues of the local government. Not a bad offer I hear you wooly liberals (i.e. my mums & dads) cry: "Whats an egobusting sign in return for the greater good of a roof and funding for the project?". Nico´s response was characteristically kurt and pertinent "if you provide the neighbourhood with water and electiricty then you can think about putting a roof on our courtyard." Indeed its a classic example of politicians (especially here) atempting to buy political credibility with the people they deprive of the basics through piecemeal high visibility offers. Moreover it would go against the DIY ethos of the Casa Taller.

Getting back here on saturday evening was fantastic. On sunday we wandered up to the top of the settlement and into the natinoal park and wathched the chaos of bogota disappear into the rolling mist in the valley. We made lunch at home where there are almost always a few of the kids runing about not to mention the goat that had escaped from the pen and was now inside to prevent him eating the veg in the garden. Sunday evenings they do a cinema club projecting offbeat films for kids and adults and make empanadas (kind of like small deepfried cornish pasties) to sell to the punters/friends. We helped out with the onion choppoing. I found my vocation.

(*Large parts of the San Luis neighbourhood are illegal in the sense that the settlements have not been officialy sanctioned by the lacal authorities. This means not only do the population not have access to public services such as water and electricity but they have no protection from eviction should developers decide that the desirable location would be better used with an expansion of the rich apartment blocks which currently stand the rest of the city and San Luis)

"seamos realistas, pidamos lo imposible"

2005-10-02T19:49:00.000-05:00

On Friday the negotiation commission reconvened, this time the authorities willing to dialogue, presumably as they too feared the recriminations of it going into the hands of national government. By 3pm an agreement had been reached. The students would disoccupy on the following conditions:

That a commission of truth justice and reparation headed by the municipal authorities including social and human rights organisations be set up to bring to light the causes of the deah of Johny Silva.
That the authorities respect university autonomy – in the sense of not entering the campus by force.
That a series of forums are run in the city regarding:

Local Governance
Public security policies and local community
The right to mobilization and social protest.

That the relevant authorities guarantee the security of thestudents exiting the occupation of the Ermita Church and their transference to the University of Valle and that the Mayors Office and the Catholic Church commit to not initiate judicial actions against those that took part in the occupation or those that accompanied the process.

The disoccupation was scheduled for four o´clock but no one really knew until the last minute when it was going to happen. Outside the crowd had grown to some 300 people. I sat accross the street getting some shade and making a start on my belated bowl of soup from the comunal cauldren that is permanently bubbling over a fire on the pavement. As i started to tuck in I was signaled to come over to the door of the church where people were amassing. It was announced that we needed everyone round the door for the safety of those inside so they could not be identified. I bolted some soup and gave the rest away secretly relieved to have to graciously tackle the grusome looking bone half floatin gin the middle. As I moved towards the door to find out what was going on I was told that they needed as many of us that knew those inside to come in as well. The human wall protecting the was parted for an instant and i slipped inside.

Expecting an empty church with 15 or so masked students waiting to bundle out I was shocked to see the pews almost full as if some huge leftwing mass were about to take place. It was not far from the truth. We sat down somewhat confused. With the place full and no one masked even the media were allowed in, though unders the strict condition that they only film and take photos from the back so as not to capture faces.

At the front men in strange robes were assembling. As the echoed buzz of the packed church dulled the priest stepped up to the microphone. What followed was without comparision one of the most bizarre experiences of my life. A mass. The priest proceeded to give readings from the bible which due to the acoustics of the room and poorly set up mic were completly unintelligible. I wasn’t the only one looking somewhat bewildered though not for the lack of comprehension of the text but the whole situation. After the reading the main priest stepped up to the mic at the central alter and gave a speech that probably would have had him excommunicated from the Vatican – Supporting the occupation in the sense of the need to create spaces of dialogue and supporting its aims going beyond that of the seeking justice for tragic death of Jhony to the need to have public education as a means to liberation and social justice. Unlike the priest at Jhony´s funeral he clearly regarded heaven to be an eathly concept that we must construct with our own hands rather than something to wait for. I was thoroughly shocked. A number of other speeches followed, from those representing the mayor and national government and also from the students attempting to put a dignified twist on their exit form the church.

So neither Miguel Justi, Secretary of the Municipal Government, Colonel Gomez Mendez, Cali´s Metropolitan Police Chief nor the Chief of the ESMAD riot squad resigned in accordance with the demands of the students.

Was then, the occupation a failure? This is a tricky one.

I think the students knew well that they never would get what they demanded. The point of demanding resignations was more to make public the partial responsibility of those figures in the death of Jhony Silva. This certainly was achieved.

When you demand the impossible the concessions those in power are willing to make are usually much greater that if you demand the realistic – this is simple bargaining – demand the realistic and you get half of it – demand the impossible and you get something realistic. Another thing this achieved was to bring the issue of education, university autonomy and human rights to the fore in cali and moreover on national level. To get all these people to the negotiation table is not easy, to get them to listen is even harder.

There is possible a pessimistic position here in the sesnse that the death of person could be viewed here as being used for political ends that that person never fought for. ie. public education, uiniversity autonomy and human rights. This requires a moment. Jhony was a student, maybe not a political one, but one that benefited from the public education system others fight with their lives for. The demands being made, the occupation, marches, negotiations go much beond justice for the death of one student, but this is not political opportunism. The entrance of police into the university grounds is not an isolated case but represents a continued attack by the state against the right to public education and social protest that often emerges in spaces where people have the access to the knowledge resources to criticise the system. It is unfortunate that it takes the death of human being to both mobilize and unify and simultaneously, to be llistend to. But such is the case. And it is in the interests of all those students both that simply access and those that fight for public education that this case is followed up, justice is served, and that the broader issues addressed.

What remains now is that the authorities comply with the promises made – this will require ongoing pressure across different levels. To add your voice to those demanding jusrtice on this issue email universities(at)colombiasolidarity.org.uk and or assemble outside the the colobian embassy in london on the 22nd of October to comemorate one month since Jhony´s death.

and we waited…

2005-09-30T22:45:00.000-05:00

Since the start of the occupation on Wednesday a negotiation commission has been in session composed of representatives of students, teachers, the church, civic authorities, university workers trade union, local government, the university administration and the Defensoria del Pueblo. The idea being to pressure the authorities into constructive dialogue about the demands being made.

Of course, authorities being as they are they refused to enter into dialogue until the students disoccupied the church. As such Thursday was a waiting game with talks deadlocked. As we sat around in the hot sun cheering the occassional supportive passing motorist support grew. It was clear that the students were not for moving without some sort of agreement.

We waited...

The problem seemed to be that the students had to some extent demanded the impossible – the resignation or sacking of people who’s hire and fire is up to national, not local authorities when it is the local authorities they are pressurising. By Thursday evening it was announced that President Uribe was comming the next day and the threat of military eviction was hinted – this would mean mass detention and violent recriminations by authorities once those inside were registered. This was not be an option - if it was decided by the national government that they would evict militarily the students would have to leave as the potential risk is too great.

The pressure was now on.

Univalle en pie de lucha

2005-09-29T09:15:00.000-05:00

"for our fallen friends - not a minute of silence."

Its 9am and with a hint of dejavu im in the internet Cafe across from the CAM tower in cali from which i reported last year.

It feels like a lifetime has passed since yesterday´s march though sitting in this cafe last year feels like yesterday... I think that´ll be from not having slept. The march was the biggest ive ever witnessed in Cali and the biggest there has been for many years according those present due to the unusually unity of students administrative and the rarely seen academic staff. It started at the Uni, the front carrying coffins, followed by the pacifying presence of the indigenous student groups whilst the a soundsystem bundled onto a pickup truck took up the rear leading deafening chanting and blasting revolutionary hip hop in the dychotomous fashion i have come to recognise as quintesentially colombian.

Incredibly, and like friday´s march we barely saw a single cop, and those that we did made sharp exits. The trek to town is a long one and on the way we grew as more people arrived from other unis in different cities, blocking intersections to dance, shout, hand out information and paint the walls so that everyone knew why we there. As we arrived at the palace of justice, our feet weary, the heavans opened dicharging upon us an apocalyptic rainfall. Far from dampen us down things this seemed to enliven people, who soaking wet, turned up the voltage, chanting and jumping, bustling through the streets.

The marched culminated Ermita church, a emblem of cali across the river from the CAM in the town centre. The students occupied it.

As banners went up inside we surrounded the outside of the bulding and blocked the road. The objective of occupation is that those responsible for the assassination of Johny Silva resign from their posts and are brought to justice. It is way of maintaining a permanent demonstration and pressure on the authorities to keep with thier promises and to make public the demands by choosing such a prominent location. The students vowed to continue the occupation until the three demands set out by the assembly were met.

The first tasks once the 40 odd ocupants were inside was the creation of four commissions - logistics (food & water for those inside and out), communication (press, national & international organisations), securtiy (for the students in side and those percieved as leaders outside) and negotiation team made up of representatives of the students, the university supreme council, the defensoria del pueblo, the municipal government and the police.

As night fell and the permanent accompanyment of the occupaton began the soundsystem was set up at the church door to inform people of progress and to keep us animated with music. Meanwhile the food crew were making a fire in the street and getting cooking as tarps arrived to make shelters from the rain. I found it strange that in a country where they assassinate you for doing critical research or disappear you for being an activist that the police did not imediately move us off - as they would have done in the UK the moment that an unlicecend music system made a peep. The feeling was thus from the start one of victory, empowerment, and with students workers and teachers present one of unity and frindlyness. Through the morning more peopll have been arriving, EMCALI workers have turned up to give support, a huge EMSIRVA truck pulled up to provide free fresh drinking water, whilst taxis and cars beeb horns and wave thumbs up in support. Of course, a revolutionary atmoshere does not mean demands will be met, this depends on the negotiations going on today from which there has been no news. This could go any way. Even the governors support of the students is by no means a gaurantee since the president may simply step in as was the case with the CAM tower last year.

Taking a building however, whether it achieves the specific aims such as the resignations or not is a reaffrimation of student power, and a rejection of the ongoing and repression that has until now kept the university community both divided and quiet. Thus this action, this reaction of the university comunity against the police taking things too far is much more than the demand for justice on this one case. It is the remobilization of students in Cali against the deeper violations of university autonomy brought about through physical and financial repression driven by central government.

The stakes have been raised.

Asseamblissimo

2005-09-27T23:09:00.000-05:00

little time so quick resumen...

Monday a student a student assembly was planned for 9am to discuss what was to be done in reaction to Jhonny´s assassination.

I got to Uni early for the assembly but the auditorium was spilling out the door before before It even began. It was still pissing it down. Impossible to enter i milled aound in the crowd outside charged with a sense of urgency and that things were startng to move.

The assembly decided to call a strike (bearing in mind this is purely made up of students and has not institutional status) so when over we all moved to the University administration to force the closure of the uni that day. The atmosphere was incredible. Hundreds shouting in unison for the resignation of the VC and the suspension of all classes that day. The chanting crowd crushed into the subteraneon feeling entrance area of the administration was a formidible force and with surprising speed the workers decended from their offices as such closing the uni.

Due to its size the assembly, now with possibility of gaining more people as classes were suspended moved to the sports hall where the assembly continued.

It adjourned the following day, tuesday, this time with close to 8000 participants, including students, academic and administrative staff, the president of the Supreme Council, the Governor Mr Angelino Garzon, theVice Chancellor, Ivan Ramos and the regional human rights vigilator (Defensor del Pueblo). The bulding felt as if it was being permanently struk by lightning, the chanting crowd insensed by the murder of jhonny silva yet vibrant and articulate.

The students were given the floor first giving testemonies of what had happened and making impassioned speeches as to thew way ahead. The level of participation was fenomenal in view of the number present and functional perhaps of a mainstream political system that is so overtly exclusionary. They were followed some hours later by the VC and finally the governor.

The sense that the people would not let this lie was reflected in the speeches of the authorities to a certain extent. Indeed, whilst the VC said little he made clear that the police had entred the university campus - which the police deny - and that he had not given the order (thus eager to vindicate himdself from what he percieved might deman his resignation). The governor took things further making a commitment to remove private security personnel from the university campus (a perenial problem due to their propensity to work as informants and colaborate with police rather than protect the university and its students) , the funding of two lawyers to take up the case of Mr Silva's death and the removal from the campus and reassessmentof the necessity of the Fundacion de Apoyo, a semi private institution within the university which acts a motor for further privatization.

The assembly accorded a march for tomorrow producing the following demands as objectives of the mobilization:

The resignation of Miguel Justi, Secretary of the MunicipalGovernment who authorized the entrance of ESMAD forces in to theUniversity campus and is thus directly implicate in the assassinationof Johny Silva
The resignation of Colonel Gomez Mendez, Cali´s Metropolitan Police Chief
The resignation of the Chief of the ESMAD riot squad (ESMAD – Mobile Anti-disturbances Squadron) who entered the university on the 22nd.
That the perportrators of the crime be brought to justice

Entierron una semilla...

2005-09-24T22:01:00.000-05:00

Johnny Silva -

"Creyeron que te mataban con una orden de fuego,

creyeron que te enterraban

y lo que hacian era enterra una semilla."

Ernesto Cardenal

Weve just returned from a funeral. I am back in Cali and sorely reminded of my arrival here nearly a year and a half ago.

I was up early yesterday. A meeting had been arranged some weeks ago with the governor of Cali and a civil servant from the Vice President´s office, the departmernt charged with the pesentation of a governmental concern for himan rights in Colombia. The idea was to meet with the authorities and expres our concern wih the critical human rights sitution in Colombian public universities and to increase international pressure for an end to the impunity shrouding the crimes comitted in the silencing social criticism. Whilst all aware in a somewhat abstract, statistical way of the numerous human rights violations commited against students, academic and administrative staff we had never imagined that we would that morning be demanding an investigation into the murder of a student shot by police that had occured at the University twenty minutes after we had left it the night before.

At approximately 7.20pm on thursday 22nd of september armed riot police entered the lush green campus of the University of Valle. They entered by force, in a riot vehichle resembling a tanque, and on foot carrying firearms and using tear gas to clear the path. There had been a small demonstation that day outside the Uni coordinated with the national university stike to protest against the Free Trade Agreement (TLC) negotiaions going on in the north of country the same day. We had stayed until about 7pm but it was generally quite quiet. The police outside firing teargas and the odd stun grenade and the students inside responding with shouts and odd rocks but all on a relatively small scale. By the time the police entered most people had gone home, Johnny Silva, a 21 year old chemistry student univolved in the protest was leaving the sciences area when the police came in. Unable to run due to polio in childhood he was shot at close range by the police as they stormed the campus.

He died on his way to hospital.

We had left around 7pm and heard the news whilst eating at a pizza restaurant in San Fernando. we were also informed that a good friend of mine was in hospital after having been shot in the head with a tear gas canister at a distance of one metre . He was unconcious.

We were speechless. For a week we have been meeting students and staff, doing interviews listening to speeches, watching videos and presentations about what is happening here, about the assassinations, disappearences, threatening and intimidation of students and staff raising their voinces against the government. But until it actually occurs, even if you are hearing about it first hand it fails to sink quite deeply in.

I spose at that moment we felt powerless, unsure of how to react and of what to do... silence and cigarrettes. One of our group went to the hospital whilst I went with carolina to an internet cafe to write the denunciation report to be sent out over various networks.

We met the authorities the following day, Gladys Fernandez the secretary of the governers office and Diego Arias from the Vice President´s office (incidentally the president in his last visit to the UK invited us to come to see the human rights situation for ourselves if we didnt believe things were improving). The response was as we expected, vague, but they did seem noteably purturbed by our presence - squirming to evade questions as we pushed for a judicial followup, and denounced the police´s aggressive and ultimately fatal tactics.

Meanwhile the students were marching. It was pissing it down so we got a taxi to meet the march which had started at the Uni and was heading down the Calle Quinta, Cali´s main artery, and into town. We overshot at got outside the 3rd Birgade of the Army, a massive army base crawling with military. Playing the bemused tourist card we returned their searching gazes with smiles and treked in the direction of town. We had been split up from three members of our group by the derranged directions we had respectively given our taxi drivers. The others we a few blocks dwn sheltering in a car repairs garage come fresh fish market where they were making makeshift banners to show our support for the students.

We continued and soaking wet encountered the throng of protesters further down the Quinta. The turnout was huge and the atmosphere a tense concoction of rage mixed with grief, the contradictory desire to be peaceful in light of state violence confroting the drive to reply with like force and destroy every emplem of state repression.

Not a single riot cop dared the streets, an occurence unheard of in a country where every expressin of dissent is normally met forceful police presence. It was this above all I think that kept the march peaceful. The crowd chanting united in rejection of state terror, and for a new colombia of free experesion and protest was both canivalesque and solemn turning the despair of the night before into empowerment and inspiration. "For this death" they cried, there would be "not a minute of silence but a life of struggle!".

We marched on the palace of justice, through the run down yet bustling centre of town, past the the mayors office through to the funeral home where Johnny was lying dead awaiting burial.

It was there that we met this morning. Buses awaited morners and we drove slowly through the town to the graveyard. As we marhced slowly into the chapel the protest chants of the day before belowed through the coffin walls carried by those at the front. For someone accoustomed to silence at things concerning death the noise shook me deeply and though a powerful expression of the determination to resist and carry on, I worried for the family who I feared might feel hijacked by the support of so many people. Indeed Jhonny was not political, he was not involved in the protest two days before, but simply a student tryimng to get home. His death however, at the hands of the state, repressing those defending the education he enjoyed was deeply political. This I spose there could be no escape from now.

After a terrible sermon by a priest who´s conception of justice was one only obtainable in heaven there were speeches. First by the familiy, to my relief expressing their thanks for the support of the mourners most of whom Jhonny had never met and then by a number of impassioned students whose moving prose defied the violence that has taken the lives of so many of their friends. To my surprise the Governor gave a speech, recounting and promising that unlike the assaination of his daughter this crime would not remain in impunity and that he would ensure the coverage of legal costs for the familiy, a noble promise but in a land where 95% of crimes remain as such perhaps an empty one. The Vice chancellor also spoke but his facile words filled airspace with the subtle yet offensive insinuation that all were responsible for Jhonny´s death implying indirectly that "certain types" of protest justified death. Their presence, and concomitant media functionaries showed a level of public interest I had not anticipated and that might well anticipate a bigger response than I had expected... perhsps the size of the march had some effect... or perhaps the size of the march was sypmtom of a feeling of enough is enough that was shared by the govenor and VC.

I had never been to a large funeral before, not least the funeral of a youth killed by the state and as the crowd flowed from the church to the burial site it was like another march, a more sombre but deeply moving one. We placed flowers on the grave as the family wept for their lost son.

I felt sad, but as one often does with funerals also somehow settled. The presence of so much support, the political chanting which initially made me uncomfortable, and powerful speeches, fortified the transformation of despair to empowerment sparked at the march. As we now walked silently back to the buses it became clear what the banner hung over the front of the funeral home had said...

Johnny Silva -
They thought they killed you with an order to fire
They thought they burried you
but what they did was plant a seed...

return...

2005-09-14T07:25:00.000-05:00

So im returning to Colombia. Albeit this time for just 5 weeks. I should reallly have kept this blog going over the past year in england but its been a busy one - finishing my undergraduate degree, two weeks in scotland at G8 (or around G8) and rave riots in the chek republic... but these are other stories.

This time here as part of a delegation we (Colombia Solidaity Campaign) are running made up of students, academics, and the unemployed (me) to highlight the severe human rights crisis in the public university sector and create links between between activists/groups/Unis in defense of public education. Ill try to keep updated this time but unlike my previous trip I will travelling around the country a lot more so web access may be more diffiicult. The delegation is on for ten days but be staying a little longer.

Im exited to be returning, especially to Cali, to see friends and be back a country which made a huge impression on me on my visit. This time I certainly feel better prepared, but the unkown which accompanies and enriches any trip is still present. Moreover a lot can change in a year, especially in political movements, and alliegences change, people disapear, new faces emerge and changelllenges arise.

here it goes...

hasta la proxima...

2004-08-09T18:39:00.000-05:00

And as I begun I’m back on the plane again. Flying over land to a country strange to me, though this time not for what I don’t know about it but for what I do. I’m returning home to the UK. These past few weeks have been crazy. The last days in any place normally are. Last night I was in Bogotá and it felt weird to be back in familiar place but with a different head upon my shoulders. A lot has happened in these four short months.

Last week I was Quito for the first Social Forum of the Americas, a gathering of some 8000 representatives of social organisations and civil society from across the world modeled on the famous World Social Forum originating in Porto Alegre, Brazil. The aim to come together and discuss, put forward proposals, share solutions and strengthen links in recognition of the fact that although our methods are diverse and actions disparate that we are many and we are everywhere. The atmosphere was positive, powerful. It was inspiring to see so many people and useful to make contacts and learn about similar processes in other places. Such events can be frustrating for their claim to alternatives and seeming lack of singular concrete propositions. It’s a characteristic in my view that is not a flaw but a facet, integral to the movement itself in the sense that what we are opposing is a singular prescription for the entire world (the neoliberal model). That’s not to say that we can’t put forward alternatives but that they will vary. It’s also easy to view the forum as the culmination of work, finality in itself when really it’s just a meeting to recount what we have been doing and what we can share of the progress or successes achieved so that more can benefit from it.

I went with two buses form the University of Valle and we stayed in the Camp set up for youth participants in a large wooded park about fifteen minutes bus ride from the event. Camping with a large group demonstrated some striking cultural differences in comparison with the trips I've done with English groups, both positive and negative. There is an often frustrating desire to everything in the group. It requires a huge amount of time negotiating what we are doing that reminded me in fact of family outings at home. The benefit of this is the focus on consensus and participation. For the preparation of food and security of the tents for example, rather than being a case of each for their own, we organised at the start to divide ourselves into groups of ten who would be responsible each day for all forty of us. The camp had its logistical flaws but to me it seemed good to be putting into a practise, though only on a small scale and temporarily, a more comunitarian way of living if we are claiming in the conference that another worls is posible.

Returning to Cali left me just enough time to finish up on a translation for a video we’ve made for the campaign and to say my goodbyes before heading to Bogotá to meet with the Association of Colombian Students and to get my plane home.

It’s affected me deeply this trip. Before hand I was doubting whether it was really useful for me to go and work out of the UK, if really it would be better to employ myself pressurising my own government. I was skeptical of westerners, social science graduates, leaving our countries to “do good” in some part of the world while the problems go on and often are funded by our way of life back home.

I don’t think I could have grasped the urgency the magnitude had I stayed in my university library, regardless of how much I would have read and theorized. After four months in Cali I 'm convinced that there is a role for international workers, indeed there’s much to be done, from doing research and informing the rest of the world on the situation, to building solidarity, acting as observers, making the national government aware of your presence to helping with the more practical community work short of volunteers. It’s been an eye-opener this trip, a kick up the ass politically. I’ve glimpsed how much I’ve got to learn and been humbled by the dedication of my friends, motivated by necessity and in real danger for trying to improve the situation of their country and its people. Will I return? Unquestionably but meanwhile much work remains to done the UK.

The process continues.

The March

2004-07-19T17:02:00.000-05:00

This week I’ve been back at the Lagoon on numerous occasion attending the outdoor community meetings in the run-up to the march. The aim is to demand negotiations for a relocation proposal for the 1500 families faced with military eviction from the illegal settlement around the Lagoon. The past few meetings have been tense, animated with excitement, anticipation and fear. Excitement for the approach of enacting something much talked about, for leaving the neighborhood which for many almost never happens, apprehension in view of all that is riding on the march - having a place to live or not, and fear for the knowledge of how police treat protesters in this country especially if few in number.

The meeting point was the church at 11am, I was dropped off by my taxi driver who gave me the usual warnings about the neighborhood before wishing me luck. I searched for people but no one was about and disheartened I made my way towards the lake to see what had happend. We had been saying all week that if not enough people showed up then the march would have to be abandoned as it would be both unsafe and a weak statement with too few people. On arrival at the lagoon some hundred or so people were milling around the dust football pitch which has been the site of previous meetings. Two buses had been scheduled to arrive at the church to take the residents into town to begin the march to the Mayor’s office. They didn’t show up and hence the meeting point changed, we made some unanswered phone calls as to the whereabouts of the buses and collectively decided to walk the five miles into town as faced with no other option. As we started off more people emerged from their homes and joined along until we were some 500 marching with banners, Colombian and the Cali city flags. A few of the men those normally vociferous in the meetings, took to the task of directing traffic in and out of side streets on their bikes so as not to be hold up motorists while a rickety horse and cart took up the rear carrying the youngest and oldest members of the community.

Around the military base we joined up with a further 500-700 people and kept marching
our legs growing tired but the chants getting louder. More people joined up along the way and by the time we reached the centre the march was some 1500-2000 strong. For many people it was their first demonstration, for many of the children, their first time into the centre of town. We arrived at the CAM Tower, the central municipal administration building and Mayor’s office. A delegation of residents, myself as international observer, and regional human rights officers spoke with the police who had cordoned off the building to arrange to speak with the Mayor regarding the planned eviction. Initially it was claimed that he was not present. With legs weary we waited the crowd not allowing silence to prevail continued chanting for respect, fair treatment and a dignfied space to live. It’s unusual, at least in the UK, that the things we march for or against direct affect our lives: a war in another country, trade justice, an end to the arms trade do not directly affect us. Here for almost everyone excluding myself the case was different. Shelter is one of the most fundamental necessities, a social right which if denied the effect is direct and serious.

We waited. It emerged that mayor was actually inside. On the ground we negotiated with functionaries. We waited some more. As the populace was beginning to flag TV arrived, reanimating all and conducting impassioned interviews with residents. We waited some more. Peaceful demonstration is a recognised legitimate democratic process and demands an official response even if to deny the demands of the people. We waited. The tactic it seemed was to weaken the people through the wait or to aggravate them to take desperate measures in frustration which would then discredit the original peaceful action. In anticipation of this ESMAD arrived (the heavily armored police Anti [civil] Disturbance Squadron) but the people kept shouting and remained peaceful. The mayor did not appear, nor give a message. As the evening began to draw in it became clear that the possibility of spending the night there was not feasible, the vast majority had not the money for a bus home let alone food and no one had eaten lunch, people had to work the next day and moreover we were unprepared to camp out and unsure of its benefits. The decision was taken to retreat and weary we phoned some buses to get the people home. I was pretty disheartened, it had been an emotional day speaking to people along the route and walking so far to be ignored. The people were more optimistic, accustomed to harder challenges. We have come out and made our point, a woman commented, and they know that from here on we will only grow stronger. The fight continues.

La Laguna

2004-07-10T12:13:00.000-05:00

This weekend it was Cali’s 400 and something birthday and the city has been in celebration. Saturday I had been ill from the food at the Asamblea por la Paz the week before but on Sunday I was up when the phone rang at 7am. It was colleague from work who I had recently got to know in discussions of what to do about his nephew who, after trying to get married in the UK has been imprisoned under new immigration law. He and his family invited me on a outing to the natural baths near Buenaventura.

The area is one of, if not the richest areas in the world for fresh water deposits with huge underground reserves making the region hot property for multinationals and increasingly dangerous territory for local residents who have witnessed its gradual [para - and National army] militarisation. Natural springs, streams and rivers emerge from every conceivable crevice below the canopy of rich jungle quenching its thirst. The streams are generally too small to swim in save for the odd waterfall drop pool and the main river too shallow. As such residents have made small dams and natural swimming pools fed at one end by the stream and emptying back into it at the other with no need for chemicals since the water is constantly moving. Being a bank holiday the pools were teaming with families bathing and relaxing in the surrounding restaurants. We moved on from the largest one where we arrived and down the road a little to a smaller pool with one other family and a basic restaurant where we bathed while doing shots of Aguardiente - a perhaps non advisable but widely practised custom so rude not to partake. Lunch consisted of fish soup with coconut milk, fried fish, rice and fried plantain cooked outside on the fire. Delicious. I like doing stuff with families, on top of being fun, getting fed and usually rather pissed you get to experience a side of the culture invisible just by working with people or hanging around with friends.

To further remedy the dodgy stomach of Saturday, on bank holiday Monday I picked up my food basket and made a potent chile with the fresh produce interspersed with reading on the back patio. In the evening I had been invited to a meeting by the friend from the food project. I headed over to his house and we got a taxi towards the North Eastern edge the city, to the Aguablanca area where I had visited the education project but to a different section: Comuna 13 the largest of the neighbourhoods in Cali’s marginalised illegal outer settlement which as a whole is home to a quarter of the city’s 4 million population. The taxi stopped outside an already immense modern church currently in the process of enlargement. It was packed with people and flooding the street with light making a striking impact in an area where public street lighing is minimal if existent at all. The taxi driver refused to go any further for personal security and road condition so we got out and walked along the wide potholed dirt road separating the dense blocks of makeshift housing on either side. The atmosphere was animated, not a door is shut and people sitting outside talking, or tending the small fires which burn everywhere, the smell of burning plastics masking that of the decaying refuse and poor sewerage.

My friend is greeted in the street by many people, others shout or wave from their positions outside their homes. As we walk on the road becomes a narrow track and then opens out onto two dust football pitches positioned end to end. The standard of play is phenomenal, beautiful even to a non fanatic, a feverish pace and power combined with a delicate finesse. The football pitches are situated on a strip of wasteland separating the bulk of the neighbourhood from a sunken boggy lagoon, La Laguna el Pondaje. On the banks of the Lagoon are makeshift dwellings which make the destitute neighbourhood on the other side of the football pitch look like Sloane Square. Houses are constructed from waste materials on land which is sinking into the swamp. For sheer lack of alternative parts of the Lagoon which is largely dry at this time of year have been filled in with waste bricks, rocks and sand to create space for the expanding population fed by forced rural displacement and urban poverty.

The local authorities have declared that the lagoon which functions a balancing lake for the rivers Lili and Cañaveralejo is in danger from the illegal settlement and as such that within the next thirty days the some 1000 families inhabiting it shall be evicted by police and military force if necessary. While the eviction order is crystal clear there is no plan for the relocation of the residents which obviously in view of the inhuman conditions in which they have been living for the past four years have no alternative residence. In light of this threat a demonstration is planned for the 14th of this month. With enough people it should be peaceful with too few the police will be relentless. The meeting we were going to was to mobilise people for the march and was held outside and standing up for lack of a roof or seats. It was electrifying and sincere its participants impassioned by necessity but few in number. There is promise but no room for complacency.

Looking out over the Lagoon I could see my own neighbourhood nestling above the city at the feet of the imposing mountains, its glistening street lights like out of reach jewels. From the other direction, from the safety of my local park adorned with food and music, the Lagoon and its inhabitants are not visible. It is a marginal zone out of sight and mind for the majority. It bears some resemblance to the one way glass separating the global north from the south. Our riches are quite visible, the dazzling stars of Hollywood recognised globally but the other audience is largely invisible, out of sight out of mind.

Leaving the Lagoon and heading towards the church where I had been dropped off we were encountered by a torrent of people filling the street and flowing against us and back to their homes. “Now this is a march” I commented to my friend, “imagine if we got this many people on the 14th!”. He chuckled and I asked him where they were all coming from.
“The Church” he replied.

En Asamblea

2004-07-09T12:48:00.001-05:00

It seems to take at least three months in any place to start to get a feel for it, to fall into a work and social rhythm, to become familiar with places and faces, to start to feel at home. As my time here draws almost to close (or seemingly so - i still have a month left) im really settling in: good contacts with student and social organisations leading to a multitude of extra projects it would be great to be involved in, a favourite bakery and a weekly fair trade organic food delivery by a project some friends are running. It’s almost always the way, as time runs out things pick up pace, you get into the rhythm and think, if only I had a little bit longer going like I could do so much more.

But I don't and as such I've been running around a little. Last week, after a violent run of events the week before I found myself out of town at a regional meeting of the Permanent Assembly of Civil Society for Peace (Asamblea Permanente de la Sociedad Civil por la Paz). The assembly claims not to be organisation in itself but a project by which other organisations can come together to get informed, talk and develop ways of pushing the peace process forward. They have been going for eight years and run seminars on conflict resolution, do research and propose alternatives working towards negotiated political solutions to the conflict and promoting dialogue between armed groups including the Government.

Key to their conception of their mission is ‘peace with social justice’, a repeatedly employed phrase across the movement first coined by the FARC and later used by the Pope and now by many social organisations. The palpability of the statement must not disguise its overtly political nature: To call simply for peace is not enough in a world where social injustice or the vast divisions in wealth and power that afflict the nation mean suffering for large portion of the population creating conditions conducive to violence. As such achieving peace is about more than a cease fire and involves a wider process of social transformation and the guarantee of constitutional human rights currently ignored for much of the population.

The main strand is the search for a negotiated solution, that violence will not bring an end to conflict as the National Army, Paramilitaries and Guerillas all claim. The group came across to me as very pragmatic. The introductory speaker stating the obvious but important point that we are not going to reach a solution here today, that things may well get worse and indeed that this is the likelihood. In recognition of the conflict and its perdurance the group seeks either to negotiate an end to fighting in certain areas or if conflict is unavoidable in the short term to reduce its impact through ad hoc humanitarian agreements between armed groups and the community - to get parties to play by the rules and exclude civil society which too often falls victim to a war in which they support neither side.

Amongst the participants, including, church representatives, trade unionists, students, local government, and academics there was personal experience of this as always reiterating the urgency of change. A woman whose daughter had been kidnapped by the FARC told during breakfast of how they had lost negotiation contact as the Colombian security services dealing with the matter had attempted to give the Guerillas fake money in exchange for the hostage, now they know nothing of her. A girl form the University of Nariño explained after lunch how her boyfriend, a prominent student leader, had received a phone call nine months ago from someone he knew to meet outside the church in Pasto and was shot dead on the steps when he arrived.

The last talk at the event was by two local government representatives from Samaniego, a small town in the mountainous Nariño region to the south of the country bordering Ecuador boarder. Once known as ‘the Peaceful State’ the region has suffered an escalation of violence in the past 20 years. The town itself is doted with the sandbag pillboxes of National Army, the AUC have a strong presence and both the FARC and ELN are active in the surrounding area. In spite of such conditions, in negotiations between of armed groups, local government, comunity and business representatives and the church an agreement has been reached and peace achieved. The Local Peace Pact as the agreement has been called includes the respect of the civil population as neutral, the no obstruction of basic goods to the population, that schools colleges and municipal administration and health centres are respected and that cultural events are allowed to go on. While historically such agreements are broken far more frequently than they are made it the speakers were hopeful and positive about its progress due to their commitment to continual dialogue.

There are many sides to the peace with social justice movement of which I in three months have only scratched the surface. A large part that I have been involved with is heavily centred on the denunciation of abuses, the reporting of the horrific side of what goes on to the national and international community. While I am convinced this side is crucial it was encouraging and refreshing to meet with a group putting forward solutions as well as criticising policies, and in the case of Samaniego to hear of small successes.

Back to reality

2004-06-25T20:30:00.000-05:00

The severity of what is happening in this country seems to hit me, like most things in life, in waves. Even living here its easy to fall into a clinical depersonalised recognition of the horror as something you understand as terrible but that doesn't permeate your own bubble. Indeed, perhaps its necessary to continue sane living. This seems to be the method of survival for the majority, at least in cities where a combination of hard work or the desperate search for it and television occupy the mind and dull the violence with mental distance.

The last two weeks I've been submerged in somewhat of a routine, running in the mornings - a rather drastic change from my previous total lack of physical activity brought on by the aches and pains following my mountain trip, and continuous work on various projects, some translation, a video voiceover and more frustrating website fiddling. These last few days however the more disturbing reality has come back round to me.

I met a friend the other day that I hadn't seen in while. She's a intense combination of top of the class medical student and open air story teller. Story telling, as i think I've mentioned, is a popular tradition in Cali and while no doubt aided by the cities forgiving climate, it's perhaps more of a testament to the severity people's personal experiences. Cali is a city where diverse histories collide in an urban melting pot and the necessity to recount, to spread the word, to exercise the right communicate and assemble and to laugh or cry sharing stories with your neighbours relieves the pressure before boiling point.

My friend had piercing look in her eye that day, less sadness than the sombre determination of perseverance though riddled with of fear. Her uncle had been shot dead near to their home the week before by the perversely named Self Defence Forces of Colombia (AUC), the paramilitaries. This was not a political assassination, the man was neither trade unionist, comunity leader nor politician, it was a simple courtesy killing, a favour for the elimination of business competition by a rival with connections in the AUC. The group is pervasive, and it's presence in the region and indeed all over the country is growing. In some cases units act as vigilante police forces "cleansing" neighbourhoods of petty criminals or suspected undesirables, in the north they are reportedly operating loan shark operations with non-payment on pain of death, more famously they are employed to protect corporate interests and debilitate trade unionism and social movements through the systematic assassination, kidnapping and threatening of trade unionists and social leaders. Their range of activities varies wildly, the impunity of their crimes remains constant.

Its not the first time my friend has lost a family member to the conflict. Ten years ago, her father, an equally gifted scientist, nationally renowned in his field of pharmacology was kidnapped by Carlos Escobar's infamous Medellin Cartel. He was kept in a secret laboratory somewhere in Antiochia where his pharmaceutical knowledge was put to work to improve the production of Cocaine. After just eight days he was released but the cartel was pleased with his work. He was given the chance to return home and think over their job offer. The family fled and moved to Jamundi, a town some twelve hours to the south of Medellin and just outside Cali. It took the cartel two years to find him, a matter of seconds to kill him.

Nearly everyone I meet has fallen victim by association to the violence in some way or another. As such things get personal and I feel rage build inside me for its apparent pointlessness and why people I feel for should have to be subjected to it. From the perspective of such personal emotions its easy to see how violence escalates driven by anger, dispair, vengeance. Things have been touching me quite personally recently. A few weeks ago the AUC made another written death threat against Pedro Galeano who I stayed with for a week in Bogota when I arrived here and who is one of the most gentle and accommodating individuals I've met in this country. On the 8th of september 1994 the colombian an army shot his daughter on the steps of the university in front of fellow students. Pedro and another colleague also a trade union human rights activist of the university of Tolima, Eduardo Camacho, were singled out by the AUC in Ibague and were forced into hiding in Bogota after receiving multiple written and telephonic death threats. They have been living there, away from their families for the last fifteen months.

On thursday the 27th May 2004 a written death threat arrived at the temporary residence of Eduardo Camacho in Bogota. As with the previous threats it purported to be from the AUC and singled out Eduardo and Pedro as primary targets whilst making clear that the group knew exactly where the two men live and work in the city. By way of fortification of the threat, on the 31st of May 2004 a letter arrived at the SINTRAUNICOL offices at the University of Tolima in Ibage. Also claiming to be from the AUC the letter reiterated the groups intentions to, in their words, "eliminate" Eduardo and Pedro, questioned and criticised the work of two union activists and again made clear their hiding places have been discovered. Neither are covered by the state protection programme for trade unionists and human rights defenders, though saying that, even this programme is under attack.

On tuesday night at 10:30pm Hugo Fernando Castillo Sanchez and his wife Diana Ximena Zuñiga were waiting in their car outside a dirvethru with their four year old son and five year old nice in the back. A grey Mazda 323X with blacked out windows pulled up and a man got out. He emptied an automatic weapon into the couple leaving the kids physically unharmed. Hugo Sanchez is a bodyguard assigned to the Home Office Special Protection Program for trade unionists and human rights defenders. He had been working for the program for the past three years and was one of the few trusted escorts assigned to The Trade Union of the Pacific Iron and Steel Company, SINTRAMETAL YUMBO.

This policy of extermination of bodyguards known and trusted by union leaders in the region occurs at the same time that high risk trade unionists have refused to accept unknown bodyguards assigned to them by the Security Administration Department (DAS). Many union leaders have preferred to go without security schemes provided by the government rather than accept bodyguards in whom they do not have total confidence. In the past 20 years 4000 Colombian trade unionists have been assassinated by state and quasi-state paramilitary organisations. Many more have been kidnapped tortured, beaten, threatened or forced into exile in their fight for the basic workers rights and affordable public service provision. Now this ongoing policy of violent repression is being extended to selected bodyguards of trade unionists and human rights defenders in an attempt to force them to accept state assigned escorts.

For the past five days I've accidentally managed to get the bus at exactly the time that the national anthem is played on the radio each day. My bus stops at the traffic lights and vendors selling sweets get on reciting a hymn of propaganda about their selected wares, jugglers and child acrobats busk in front of the shinny SUVs, their single occupants waiting impatiently, we pass the heavily guarded Third Brigade of the Army, a large military base on the Calle 5ta, moving on the walls of buildings bear a mix of adverts and graffiti: political slogans against the war, the United States and the Colombian Government. The anthem plays on. National pride is astonishingly powerful even amongst those most downtrodden by the state, it seems to permeate social class, race, political alignment, age. This common sentiment in a diverse people is, however, sadly incapable to unite.

Indeed, all sides loving their country want the same thing for it: peace. But what all sides do not want nor work for as is shown by State socio-economic policies and the mantle of impunity covering the crimes of paramilitaries is justice without which peace will never be achieved.

a weekend off

2004-06-09T20:28:00.000-05:00

This friday at the University’s routine punk rock gathering on campus I encountered some friends who informed me that the following day they were off to Pico de Loro, an imposing jungle coated mountain that overlooks the city. Mildly enticed by the idea after an undoubtedly exciting yet nevertheless two straight months now of sitting in front of a computer screen, I tentatively agreed to the trip on the basis that we would talk later in Tintin Deo a small and well frequented Salsa Club on the Calle Quinta. After passing the evening at the uni in inescapable yet fascinating discussions with a old bohemian outdoor go playing philosophy professor and his graduate groupies, I headed for the club. Tintin Deo is somewhat of an salsa institution in Cali, it has housed the old greats and plays their music and is packed every friday with people you know. Unlike in the UK (alcohol culture at least) where beer or mixed drinks prevail that serve to lengthen the drinking experience, so as have something to do while seated at the table, here, a bottle of rum or aguardiente is purchased for the table and a shot knocked back in between dancing. Despite popular rumours it is thankfully not the case that all Latinos can dance i have learned, unfortunately unlike the tourists it is only those that can that do. either way i’m learning.

Walking home at five in the morning, the mountain trip in four hours time, as we had agreed at the club, seemed improbable. Nevertheless, when i got up at ten thirty and called them they weren’t ready so i headed down there. The crew, consisted of Marino a man of geography teacher cross zen sailor material, Andrea an insomniac social work graduate and the excursion’s organiser, Hal, an intrepid and hilarious good humoured English Gap year student, Jorge a joker of Hal’s calibre but on the pessimistic flipside and myself ..................... [fill in as appropriate].

The weather was comfortingly homely, constant rain, but with the tropical twist of thick humidity. We examined the shabby piece of tent at our disposal, an aged inner sheet of a two person tent un accompanied by pegs ropes or poles. By the time we had brought the necessary plastic sheets, rope and food for the trip it was going on three so we ate a good meal on the basis that we’d already wasted so much time that an extra half hour to get well fed wouldn't make any difference. The rain had thickened as we ate turning the streets into a complex river network so we sheltered under a restaurant awning to wait fro the bus. We advised that we had just missed it by ten minutes and the next would be along an hour. After an hour and fifteen minutes later, already wet and aware of the darkening sky, we resolved to wait ten more minutes before admitting early defeat on the basis that we would be insane to start such a hike in the dark. The bus, packed with people, promptly pulled to halt behind a tidal wave of back road water assaulting the pavement. We grabbed our bags and jumped on board pushing our way through the passengers to get inside. In the cramped steamy conditions i began falling asleep standing up to be repetitively jolted back into conscience by a pothole in the road or the manic cries of the driver to move to the back of the bus followed by the desperate passenger’s proclamations of its impossibility.

After an hour of travel disguised as a year by discomfort we pulled up to the last stop, a small settlement consisting of a central crossroads adorned with low grubby whitewashed buildings and dispersed houses spreading out from there. Hal was immediately spotted by some pissheads in a small bar, eager to initiate him into the delights of Aguardiente, the chapest spirit available made from Sugar Cane, he was dragged inside to join them. It was almost dark but the rain had paused so we rescued Hal who had made himself at home and headed up a dirt track guided by Marino. The rich smell of the freshly fallen rain was still thick in the air and with a flavour completely foreign to that of the city from which we had come. The musical night shift was starting and the crickets had taken their positions, the rhythm beginning to gain pace. After no more than fifteen minutes trekking up we encountered a ramshackle house by the side of the pregnant river, its overflowing vines and flower baskets camouflaging it into the increasingly junglistic surroundings. Maino happened to know the artisan inhabitant and no sooner had we asked him of where we might camp than he had in invited to sleep in his workshop. We quelled our irrational doubts emerging from the recognition that our meticulous plastic sheet purchases had been in vain and graciously took up the offer of a real roof as the rain resumed its rhythm. The workshop was serving as an impromptu breeding ground for viscous mosquitos too numerous to bother attempting to kill. I spent the night on the floor attempting to ignore the pulsating bites on my face which i had foolishly left uncovered to aid breathing.

In the morning we awoke early and leaving our bags in the workshop headed down to river to shock us into life. The rain had stopped and patchy mist wafted through the valley clinging in places to the rich jungle covering the severe mountains and melting in in places multiplying the infinite shades of green. The river had subsided since the night before and the rapid waters ran clearer though tinted tannin by rich fertile soil. Bathed and fed on the fruit we had brought and augmented with a cup of sweet weak colombian coffee courtesy of our host we set off. The path began as a dirt track navigable by vehicle and evolved into a narrow steepening track, in places completely roofed by vegetation creating dark cool tunnels. After a steep climb we emerged into a meadow opening a view of the green mountains ahead and the valley from where we had begun. A small rugged wooden house sat in the centre and as we approached we were met by a motley crew of dogs of various sizes and a young inhabitant. The house had been abandoned and since occupied by a group of friends who are now renovating it. We left our heaviest belongings with them, ate some chocolate and headed upwards.

The vegetation thickened again and with it the air as we ascended in to the clouds of mist nestling in the jungle. The water we carried soon disappeared and we encountered a stream cascading down the side where we refilled and refreshed. The path became less a question of walking and more one of climbing up the array of protruding roots and rocks aided by the strong hanging vines from above. Its easy to forget how magical the jungle can be. The enchanting mist, the sounds and ridiculous wealth of visual stimuli can all be explained, recalled to memory to a certain extent, this i was prepared for but there is an atmosphere arising from the combination of these things that much time in cities had erased from my memory and which was truly refreshing to come back to. We climbed on steeply some three hours more and the vegetation thinned out as did the mist giving way to initially to fine bamboo then to tropical shrubbery and finally to rock and the summit well above the cloud covering the valley. Looking away from the valley revealed more Mountains protruding magnificently out of the mist which constantly changing would swell up in waves covering and then revealing again the lush green mountains. We ate and spent a the rest of the day sitting on the top fascinated by the panorama which would intermittently disappear completely as we were enveloped in cloud only to reappear seemingly all the more impressive.

The decent was actually more difficult in my view than the climb due to the combination steepness requiring deep concentration and fatigue, concentration’s arch rival. We adopted the running technique which while seemingly perverse given conditions and physical state, I am confident is the easiest way as it does not allow the mind to doubt the next step step and as such movement is more by reaction than conscious thought. Either way we made it down, collected our bags at the house and acquired one of the resident dogs though not by our choosing. The bus home was not till nine giving us an hour to eat street food and have celebratory beer before collapsing for the drive back.

I was sharply awoken at my stop and disembarked somewhat dazed but present and trekked up the final steep hill of the day to where im staying. No one was in and exhausted and relieved to make it back in one peace I removed my clothes and put on a towel to go shower. Feeling dehydrated I grabbed a glass of water in the kitchen which is out the back door and turned to re-enter the house as a gust of wind blew the door shut. It should not be possible for this door to self lock. It did. Shattered, standing in a towel and locked out in the high walled back yard I called to the neighbours for assistance and eventually a tired head poked over the upstairs balcony. There was only one thing for it: secure my towel and climb the drainpipe up to upstairs balcony. The dad of the family grabbed my arms as i reached the top and hauled me over. The next challenge was re-entering my flat from an inner balcony upstairs. The drop was about fifteen feet onto tile floor, not particularly appetising barefoot and hike beaten. After some deliberation with the neighbours, clearly amused by the invasion of a sunburnt-towel-wearing-dreadlocked-english youth i decided to attempt to climb down and then jump from a ladder suspended by the hands of the neighbours. It worked. I slept well.

One battle over...

2004-05-29T16:18:00.000-05:00

Sleep has been a rare privilege over the past four days and tensions have run high but the worst has been avoided.

Last night the President announced that National Government would assume jurisdiction over the CAM Tower occupation situation thereby superseding the local and regional authority of the Mayor and Governor. This was effectively a coup dÂ'etat on a local level given that it involved the subordination of the civil and political authorities and the police by military authority of the army, albeit under national control. This constitutional violation sanctioned by the President served as an external intervention in the negotiations between the Union, Mayor and Governor to pressurise the regional authorities and reiterate with cold clarity the threat of forced eviction by the armed forces.

Forced eviction takes place in three stages, the first of which being ÂisolationÂ. On arrival this morning I found the CAM Tower cordoned off with a 300 metre radius and heavily guarded by military police and ESMAD officers. At five oÂclock this morning the first stage of eviction had been implemented. Police violently removed supporters from the vigil outside the tower to further up the road where they were almost out of view for those inside. This is a new tactic in the history of the CAM tower occupations and is indicative of UribeÂs hard line policy on social protest and contempt for EMCALI.

Despite yesterday's hopes as people gathered last night outside the Tower numbers today were low in comparison with previous occupations. As such the jog of negotiators inside the permanent assembly was ever more difficult. The displacement of the vigil was demoralising both for supporters and workers inside but the people stood strong. Today was riddled with uncertainty. We waited and waited under the heavy burden of the imminent threat of military force as the negations pushed on inside the tower.

As the sun began to disappear an announcement was made that an agreement had been reached and that the workers inside were coming down. People assembled en mass at the road block where the buses would exit with the workers from the tower while some 200 ESMAD officers filed out of their buses to confront them. Ive never seen so many riot police in my life but it was more of a show of strength and tactically pointless in vbeiw of the fact that the supporters were hardly likely to attack the buses full of workers they had turned out to support. As the ten buses exited the awaiting crowd cheered support and piled onboard so as to protect the occupants from police stops further on (by mixing theselve amongst those who had been in the tower).

The agreement is more of a short term pacifier to facilitate further negotiations with a commitment to reviewing the GovernmentÂs recent restructuring proposal (which the occupation was in response to) and a continuing dialogue including public consultation regarding its implications. ItÂs not a full victory for either side and accordingly can be viewed as victory for both. On the part of the Government the CAM Tower is no longer occupied by the workers so victory could be claimed, but before the occupation occurred eviction was (obviously) not the GovernmentÂs goal so the victory is a shallow one. On the part of workers the issues surrounding the new proposal and its implications have been brought to the fore, negotiations opened and the people mobilized.

This is by no means the end, the threat of privatisation, increased tariffs, and removal of subsidies to impoverished sectors remains very real. What has been achieved is to show that inspite of his dogmatic stance and unremitting anti democratic tactics that the people are still ready to resist the PresidentÂ´s onslaught and present viable alternatives. Something that defined this battle from the last was the lack of build up, that few knew the implications of a rapidly imposed proposal with sufficient time for word to spread. Times change and effective methods one year, with one government, do not necessarily work in same way with the next. There remains much work to be done and this was the first step in a new process rather than the last in an established one as perhaps with the 2002 occupation.

Uribes determination, manifest in the real threat of the use of force, denial of food, water, and medical supplies, subordinance of local authorities and unwillingness to negotiate with the union during the Permanent Assembly demonstrate not only his lack of regard for constitutional human rights but also the crucial importance of the debilitation of SINTRAEMCALI in his vision of the Nation. He is all too aware of what it symbolises for the social justice movement both nationally and internationally. Unfortunately for the President, so are the people and the occupation has shown that they are willing to fight to protect it.

CAM Tower Occupation Report 2

2004-05-28T23:31:00.000-05:00

Cali, Friday 28th May, 2004

Sixty-two hours into the third occupation of the CAM tower and the government is maintaining a hard line. As yet no food has been allowed into to the building and negotiations are deadlocked. Uribe is still refusing to negotiate under pressure and has stated that if the workers will not leave voluntarily then they will be removed by military force. As such it’s now up to the people of the Cali and the international community to make clear that this peaceful occupation in defence of the right to public services has our support and vigilation.

After a quiet first two days the solidarity movement is now building with a voracious pace. This morning during a conference the University of Valle run by the Social and Political Front the workers arrived en masse to inform the packed auditorium that today at 3pm they would begin the permanent vigil outside the CAM tower. The response was one of spontaneous cheers and chants of solidarity in emphatic support for the workers. At the end of the talks buses took people from the conference into town to support the workers inside the CAM Tower. A small sound-system had been set up on the Avenida Sexta in front of the building from which speeches of solidarity, messages to the occupants and music was broadcast. While the powerful and inspiring messages of resistance of the traditional Cancion Social (music with socio political lyrics) filled the air, calming nerves with hope, at this early stage a deep apprehension still permeates.

At the moment police are not allowing the supporters to block the road for any length of time creating a situation by which large numbers of heavily protected ESMAD officers routinely force the supporters from the public highway. This will change as numbers build and it no longer becomes possible to contain the people. As EMCALI have guaranteed the provision of services during the permanent assembly many workers have to work over- time while their companions take other actions to protect the company, but tomorrow is Saturday. Until then such police action is creating a tense and volatile atmosphere, messages of peace and to not let ourselves become aggravated ring out over the loudspeakers while aggressive police push and shove people onto the pavement. It is a tribute to the nerves of the people outside that as yet they remain peaceful.

A group of women sat in the bus stop exchange turns on a pair of old binoculars trying to catch a glimpse of their husbands up in the tower. I ask one of the women if she is worried for them, "no" she replies, "he can look after himself, what worries me is a government that has forced us into this situation and what the future holds" As Friday night draws in numbers grow along side a camaraderie that dampens fears.

From here on in the workers inside will be accompanied by the vigil outside 24 hours a day until a resolution is reached.

Cali Getting Warmer

2004-05-27T23:59:00.000-05:00

Ive kind of neglected my blog recently as have been well busy and was feeling an invisible pressure to make it more academic conscious of the fact that people other than family and friends are probably reading it and that informality of style might not be appropriate. Really though that was the whole idea as there a mountain of academic things available on the internet about Colombia (which if you want to read the links are there) but few personal accounts of what a random individual is up to and moreover that theres a mountain of people who simply arént going to read the academic online journals newspapers etc but might well read what a random person is up to. Either way ive decided to continue in the style I began.

Its been pretty quiet politics wise here in Cali over the past week but things are getting warmer. As such ive been soldiering on with this website which has been more of a mission than expected mainly on account of having no idea how to make one when I began so its been slow. I was starting to feel pretty demoralised a few days ago as working silly hours to get it done and totally on my own, feeling isolated that I was making a campaign that is going to have little impact and like theres much more to be done and no helpers.

The day before yesterday I had a meeting with a priest and some people from the Forbidden to Forget Campaign (against privatisation, corruption, and the criminalisation of social protest). The priest, Gonzalo Gallo is somewhat of a don in HR field here (so much so that I saw his charicature on a postcard) and has an amazing calm, peaceful and most of all powerful energy of presence. It rejuvenated my spirits talking to people who were well on the case and up for getting things moving. I was kind of waiting for approval to do certain things with the site and rewrite some of the texts they´d given me to put in but Ive since realised its best just to get it done my own way if theyre leaving me to it. They hadn’t really involved the students in the process and given the crucial nature of their support and the amount of mundane data collection jobs there are to be done theyre needed so ive arranged some meetings and soon should be heading off to some of the other unis in the country to collect more information about HR violation cases and talk with the students and staff about building a more integrated national network, that depending on what goes on here over the next weeks.

Yesterday at 6am workers of the Cali Municipal Services Company EMCALI occupied for the third time in five years Cali’s Central Municipal Administration Building in centre of the city. The tower has become a symbol of the struggle for workers rights and the defence of public services against the pervasive wave of privatisation sweeping the country in accordance with the global neoliberal mandate.

The workers took this measure of last resort to reject a new proposal for a restructuring of company debts that would shift the burden to users. The debt was incured during the bulding of a Sewerage plant in 1997 and at the time the Government agreed to take on 80% of repayment but retracted the offere after construciton began. The workers further demand the sacking of EMCALI’s Managing Director CARLOS ALFONSO POTES who has been found guilty of involvement in corruption and falsification of figures to discredit the viability of the firm by the Attorney General. The Attorney General recommended Potes' disqualification from working in the company and for holding public office for 7 years. In spite of this, the Superintendent of Public Services Eva Maria Uribe confirmed that POTES would carry on in his position.

Behind this issue lies a deep confrontation over the future of EMCALI. The agreement that ended the previous 36 day occupation of the CAM tower in January 2002 guaranteed both basic labour rights including holiday entitlement, sick pay and pension schemes and also subsidies for the provision
of water, sanitation and electrical services to the most impoverished social groups in the city. On 23 January 2003 Government passed resolution 000141 in a renewed attempt to liquidate the company, so as to pay debts to creditors. The President declared that there was not one peso for the salvation
of the company and the only alternative was the "Todos Ponen" initiative by which all parties would have to make sacrifices in order to cut costs - to pay the creditors. The workers, for their part, unprepared to increase costs to the users particularly the subsidised impoverished sectors, agreed in April 2004 to hand over rights guaranteed in their collective agreement.

But the government has since issued a new proposal for the payment of creditors involving restructuring of labour and operational costs that will involve increasing charges to users of 50% in water sanitation services, 25 – 30% in other services and 40% to impoverished zones who no longer receive subsidies. On top of that 2% of EMCALI's total income is to be paid to creditors, twice that of what had originally been agreed to.

I heard about the occupation as a message of solidarity in a conference about the Free Trade Agreement of the Americas whose likely imminent imposition forms part of the urgency for privatisation on the part of the Uribe Government. I headed into town immediately arriving around 2 pm and contrary to my expectations the scene was on the surface at least relatively calm. At this early stage most of the population are unaware as to advertise the taking of a public building in advance would serve only to facilitate its impossibility. The obligatory Anti- [civil] Disturbance Squadron (ESMAD) were naturally out in force backed up by the Military Police (PM) and civil police officers who had surrounded the building but supporters elusive. A closer inspection revealed the surrounding cafes and bus stops to be filled with supporters of the occupants aware unfortunately from experience of the gravity of the situation and wary not to make their faces known to police too soon in a place where legitimate social
protest is penalized with violence. The atmosphere was one of tense and penetrating apprehension rippled with fear and respect for the courageous occupants inside, all too aware that this time forced and violent eviction a looming possibility.

Indeed, today, just one day in to the occupation, negotiations are deadlocked. Uribe has said he will not negotiate under pressure and further that unlike in previous occupations no food is to enter the building. It is a characteristically contradictory statement in view of the situation, given that it is the government’s breach of its own agreement that has over the past year and particularly past month forced the workers into negotiations under pressure.

The denial of food presents a further testing situation indicative of the severity of the President’s tactics vis-a-vie both public services and public workers: that he is prepared to starve the workers so as
deprive the people of public services.

The workers have made a courageous move, it now rests with the people of Cali and the international community to mobilize in solidarity to show that in a state that calls itself a democracy contracts are binding, the people have rights and those rights must be respected.

ALCA

2004-05-26T16:37:00.000-05:00

Across Colombia last week people took to the streets to demonstrate against the Free Trade Agreement of the Americas (FTAA or ALCA in Spanish). The proposal originally conceived by Clinton with the dream of creating a free trade zone stretching from Alaska to Tierra del Fuego was launched at the December 1994 Summit of the Americas in Miami but as yet it has only been the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) that has been implemented (Mexico, USA, Canada). The FTAA is essentially an expansion of the NAFTA to the South to envelope all other Latin American Countries with the exception of Cuba. According to Negotiating Groups working on the key elements of the agreement it will become the most largest and furthest reaching free trade agreement in the world affecting every area of life for the 800 million citizens of the Americas who´s combined GDP amounts to some US$11 trillion (US).

But the FTAA, despite is groundbreaking size, ehibits few new features from the either the NAFTA, the failed Multilateral Agreement on Investment (MIA), the General Agreement on Trade in Services (GATS) or the Trade-Related aspects of Intelectual Property Rights (TRIPS) agreement. Indeed, it presents the usual characteristics of multlateral trade agrements: designed in secret excluding civil society consultation and participation while including [500] corporate representatives with access to the negotiating documents; the aim of decreasing ‘barriers to trade’ through deregulation so as to facilitate the free movement of the factors of production: capital, goods and services with the standard exception of labour and the total exclusion of safeguards to protect workers, human rights, social security, health and environmental standards (indeed any such regulations would count as barriers to trade and thus be contradictory to it’s aims). Implications are typical: greater privatisation involving, particularly in the South, the transfer assets to multinational companies, continued militarisation to protect the assets of said multinationals (a secondary but serious effect), ease of movement of companies to find lowest wages, illegality of environmental and labour regulations including the inability and in fact illegality of a nation to ban GM Crops, reductions in state social spending and the shift of empasis on private investment combined with increased spending on policing to prevent social protest.

It would be unfair, however, to paint the FTAA as equal to the NAFTA, indeed this would do no credit to its creators who have skillfully selected some of the most effective measures from the multitude of aggreements mentioned above for achieving their aims and agregated them into the largest free trade agreement in the world. The FTAA stands out for two reasons: Firstly for its scope covering issues ranging from foreign direct invetsment investment; government procurement; market access (covering tariffs, non-tariff measures, customs procedures, rules of origin, standards and technical barriers to trade); agriculture; trade in services (including education, health, water, social services), intellectual property rights (including patenting of drugs, plants and seeds); subsidies, anti-dumping and countervailing duties; competition policy through to dispute settlement. Secondly for its inclusion and elaboration of the "investor-state" provisions of the NAFTA which give corporations the right to pursue their trade interests through legally binding trade tribunals enabling them to directly sue governments for alleged property rights or trade barrier violations. The elaboration exists in the combinination of this power with rights originally delineated by the GATS the combination of which will give unprecedented rights to transnational corporations to compete for and even challenge every publicly funded service provided by governments including health care, education, social security, culture and environmental protection. (see more).

As such, in defense of national sovereignty, national natural resources and human and environmental rights demonstrations took place across the nation on Tuesday. In Medellín, Bogotá and Cartegena demonstrators were caught in violent clashes with police. In Cartegena where the largest protest took place organizers had advised the authorities well in advance so as to make clear that it was to be a legitimate peaceful exercise of the right to protest. On the day of the march the National and Local Government immediately declared the actions to be illegal and dispatched a contingent of 2,000 police officers, reinforced by personnel from the Atlantic, Sucre and Bogotá commands, the Security Service DAS, the National Army and the Attorney General [Fiscalia]. The police aggression left more than 100 injured including Member of Congress Alexander Lopez, Senator Jorge Enrique Robledo and the Ex-Mayor of Cartagena, Bernardo Hoyos.

Here in Cali the march was this time peaceful and well attended. The student turnout was low but not for apathy as much as security given the recent clashes with police at the university and prevalence of police cameras filming demonstrators at large organized demos. On Wednesday the various student political groups in collaboration with the unions held a public meeting at the university. A member of the USO came to speak about the continuing strike and the need for solidarity particularly in light of the ALCA.

I’ve been pretty submerged really in making this website, it being one of those not quite realised what you’ve taken on until in full swing type jobs and then no other option but to persist, but its taking shape. After last Friday’s experience of attempting to play music other than metal and punk at the weekly gathering at the Uni and getting promptly kicked off this Friday I wandered over to the other side of the campus where the salsa party was in full swing. Its odd how the stark division in taste manifests itself cutting neatly down the line of course option. The metal and punk party is for the social scientists, the political activists or otherwise while the salsa party which takes place in the engineering faculty plaza is almost totally science students.

Saturday I took a break from the computer and went for a wander in the rain in the opposite direction to the park where I normally go. Following the sound of drums I ended up in La Loma de la Cruz an artesania market during the week and hangout of alternative (generally metalers) youth by night. Being neither the week nor the night it was hosting a cultural event run by a youth anti war group (Juventudes Resistiendo la Guerra). They’d set up a stage and soundsystem and interspersed between the social annoucments highlighting the necessity of peaceful resistance to war, the increased military spending and cutting of social services and the imposition of the ALC A, groups and individuals performed music, poetry and dance ranging from traditional coastal dancing, a potent female hip hop group to angsty young metalers. Here there was no division between punkers and salseros, breakdancers and metalers. The sunset was unusually colourful for this time of year and the atmosphere lively, friendly and united.

pop-ed

2004-05-15T12:51:00.000-05:00

I started out with this thing with the intention of of presenting both a more personal and as such more readable account life here and also a view different to that of how Colombia is commonly perceived in the UK. It has occurred to me recently however that the things I've been writing about probably present an image not far off from the tumultuous stereotype. Im not sure if this really is the case but either way I thought that at risk of boring you it would be useful to remark on the albeit busy work wise but general tranquility and routine of my daily life so as to balance it out a bit.

Yes, in cities life largely carries on and though a struggle for many due to economic conditions there is routine and order. I personally get up early and eat breakfast in a small room connected to an even smaller kitchen on the street where I get the bus. Its good stuff, eggs, scrambled with tomatoes and onions with rice and plantain and a cup of hot sweet milk with the faint aroma of coffee. And then a bus to the Uni office, a bumpy and mildly hair raising drive but pretty straightforward. I like travelling on the bus, noticing new things each day and having a chance to catch your thoughts in between the nights sleep and talking to people. I spend all day at the uni normally, attempting to get on with work in between answering the phone and the general interruptions of the comings and goings of various people. I like to have the large dark glass door open and the lights off but my colleagues prefer the opposite. I get a free lunch if i cue for it and normally do: soup, rice, meat, a slice of plantain and fruit juice, its basic and mass produced but decent. The office normally go home around 6 and i head back to work at home before heading out to catch the last of the street food on the corner where I have become a regular to the disgust of body but the satisfaction of brain. The neighbourhood is one where you frequently bump into people you know at all hours and thus I have managed happily without a phone or social planning. Walking around in the warm air of last night I found a part of San Antonio id never come across and clearly the oldest, beautiful brightly coloured houses perched on the slopes of San Franciscan inclines, adorned with lively plants and capped with terracotta roofs.

Tuesday, after having missed multiple previous appointments due to the busyness of last week, I finally went to see the popular education project that a friend has been badgering me to visit. We waited a long time for a bus which is very unusual if going anywhere else in the city. I was told its not for this neighbourhood. The Aguablanca district, despite housing over a quarter of the city's population (some 1.5 million people out of 4 million) is in many respects marginalised from rest of the city. Transports are less frequent for nothing more than the fact that many inhabitants have not the means to get out, even to the city centre. It lies in the East of Cali, and its population expands daily on account of “las invasiones” the influx of displaced and destitute campesinos, internal refugees seeking asylum in the city. The population falls into social stratas 0 and 1 (less than US$1 per day) and the role of the state in these illegal outlying settlements is no more than keeping public order with large police patrols.

As the bus pushed deeper the roads began to deteriorate, housing materials become more crude, the streets narrower and the population more dense. The streets are lined with stalls selling all the basic necessities, the zone is in many ways a self contained, insulted by poverty. We stop and jump off outside a pool room with two open walls and old men shooting balls with ferocious speed and accuracy in characteristic latin american style. The school lies in the Poblado Dos sector of the zone and we reach it quickly.

The building itself, consisting of four classrooms and a small open area in the centre was originally constructed by the government in the 1980s when Urban Guerilla Movement M-19 handed in their arms in return for a government commitment to certain social programs. It was later abandoned and then reutilised by the education project two years ago as part of a community initiative subsidised by The Municipal Services Company Emcali in collaboration with a group of 14 Uni Valle graduates as teachers. Emcali have since withdrawn financial support due to lack of available funds but the teachers continue unpaid and have set up the Foundation for Popular Capacitation FUNDECAP with the intention of providing poplar education in an area of the city neglected by the State.

On arrival I met with some of the enthusiastic teachers outside the busy entrance and was taken to see the nearby allotment. Its maintained by the students and occupies a stretch of wasteland in between some makeshift housing and a black drainage river nearby the school. The two young backyard-tatooted males attending it showed me round the impressive bounty of bannanas, black beans, tomatoes, corn, plantain and coriander.

There are currently 250 students studying at the school covering all age ranges and a further 250 outside of the immediate catchment comprised of parents, street kids and elderly people involved in extra curricular projects including art, dance and theatre. Of the 14 teachers, 11 were educated in the Cali’s Public University, La Universidad del Valle (Uni Valle) and whose degrees cover the spectrum from politics to maths. Courses are offered from basic literacy and numeracy to history, politics, geography, maths and physics in preparation for the nationally standardised state exams which would enable students to attend the public university with financial support. Adult literacy classes are given by ex-graduates of the school and many students take part in other voluntary functions. The school recieves zero state financial support.

I sat in on two classes, comprised of students ranging from ages 14 to 38 from all over colombia and as such ethnically very diverse. The focus on socio-political consciousness absent from the state education curriculum was striking and the student´s perceptive analyses of their situation, prospects and most of all dreams, quite moving. The classes were lively, argumentative and exiting. Student were inquisitive about my country and what had attracted me to theirs. On at least three occasions I was asked by students as perplexed as many people in the UK why Mr. Blair persists with the special relationship with the USA. They asked me about literacy in the UK and what it meant for political participation in general the population. I replied that we suffer the same addiction to soaps and opiate entertainment, the same apathy, though not on account of a lack of literacy (or the capacity to enquire) but on account of a lack of consciousness and self belief that change is either necessary or in our hands. While just about everything that materially comprises a normal school was lacking, a recognition of the urgency of change and crucial self belief to realise were not.

After the class was the weekly meeting of students and staff, a rowdy but crucially impassioned and participative affair discussing payment of fees (£2.50 per month per student to cover basic costs), the approaching exams and the direction of further projects and ideas to attain funding.

I suppose what struck me most about the visit was the practicality of the project. In the world I am in here, of Unions and international non-governmental organisations, and particularly coming from a UK political science degree the focus on solutions is heavily weighted on top down political processes; appealing to national governments for change or informing the international community with the intention of raising consciousness outside to bring about policy change from above. While I clearly believe this to be an important part of the process I had largely overlooked the fundamentals. What is going on here is educating the people affected by the policies we wish to change, people that are often excluded even from the deiscourse of resistance. This is a population that globally consists of the majority and is potentially very powerful. popular education is also a form where results are visible unlike the sometimes seemingly fruitless circles of political bargaining in which we invest so much of our time.

The teachers I spoke to told me of their university experiences with which I could identify well from personal experience; of desperately trying to mobilise the students for change both for ourselves but more (particularly in the case of activism in the more economically developed world) for the purpose of helping or changing the conditions of others in worse situations. It can be demoralising experience. Their response was to go to where the problem manifests and mobilise and inform those affected. A simple and logical move. Im not claiming that any this is unheard of new radical measures or that the institutional political avenues should not also be pursued but simply remarking that I pesonally had overlooked its merits and it ws impressive and exciting to see such a vibrant process in action.

[The school is running on minimal funding and the teachers solicited my help in making contacts with European NGOs that might be able to provide something. Popular education is quite a hot subject at the moment and significant EU funding comes to Colombia administered by national and international NGOs. In view of this I thought it would probably be possible to find some money somewhere. I have no experience in this field and do not know how the process works. If anyone has any ideas, people to contact, methods, please contact me and I will translate and relay the information. Thank you]

The Week's Roundup

2004-05-11T12:08:00.000-05:00

My blog has been somewhat neglected recently. Last week didnt leave much time and web access has been limited. Sunday, following May Day’s inspiring show of strength and solidarity from labour organisations and civil[ised] society groups the non-official but none the less State response was unremitting: another attempt at the life of Edgar Perea, Vice-president of the Yumbo Metal Workers Union (Sintrametal Yumbo). This occured just eighteen days after the previous attempted assassination of Edgar Perea in which his brother RAÚL PEREA ZÚÑIGA was killed (14.04.04) and nineteen days after the assaination of EMSIRVA (municiple cleaning services) Union leader CARLOS ALBERTO CHICAIZA (15.04.04). This time it was community leader and recently apointed bodyguard of Mr. Perea JESÚS ALEXANDER HERNÁNDEZ who was killed in the crossfire.

EMCALI the Cali state owned miniciple services company has been fighting privatisation with creativity and determination since the mid ninetees has experienced renewed pressure this week. EMCALI is the jewl in the crown of the struggle against a pervasive wave of privatisation permeating colombian public services, a shinning example of successful creative resistence, of viable alternatives (see M. Novelli Privatising Emcali). The substantial financial gains for private investors aside, pyschologicaly for the Uribe government it is a battle they do not want to lose. Part of the agreement to saving the company was the commitment to the amend the Collective Agreement. On Tuesday it was handed over to the executive Committee exluding workers and the union. In response to the exclusion from the official process and aware of the direction in which the company will go without their input workers assembled at the water and sewerage plant on Wednesday. They arrived both ready to work but also with the objective of analysing the implications of the hand-over of the Collective Agreement and the loss of rights associated with it that have been achieved through long and arduous struggle. Almost as soon as it had begun the workers were met by state law enforcement agencies in considerable numbers comprising of members of the Mobile Anti (civil) Disturbance Squadron (ESMAD) and Military Police Force (PM). They diddnt mess about opennig fire on the crowd with shotguns spraying the demonstators will buckshot, tear gas and pepper spray. Today I went passed the plant on the bus and it is worth noting that it is situated in a densely populated and impoverished residentil area. An area where at this time of day, children for whom school is not an option, fill the streets, an area, moreover where exists a population that the authorities will do all in their power to make sure do not end up on the side of the workers. For the police a peaceful demonstration was a PR oportunity for EMCALI they would not concede. By far the most sinister occurence in the middle of the attacks was the positioning of a Cali Metropolitan Police vehicle next to the plant from which the young occupants shouted insults at the workers. Simultaneously an explosion was set off by the ESMAD force leaving a number of the occupants of said vehicle wounded. According to the Police the vehicle was transporting young people with behavioural problems to a juvenile detention centre. The police superintendent in charge claimed in an abusive and defamatory statement that EMCALI workers had attacked the police transport vehicle that had been passing through area on routine business. (click for full report)

Meanwhile, the strike continues called by the Colombian Oil Workers Union USO on the 22nd of April in response to threatened privatisation of the industry and loss of workers rights and control of national resources associated with it. The strike has been declared illegal by the Government on the basis that oil is in their veiw an “essential service” to the Nation. Of that essential service 59% of the oil produced is exported, the majority of which in crude form. The largest markup on fuel occurs at the refinement stage meaning that the vast majority of the profits are earned outside of Colombia. An essential service perhaps, but not to the majority of Colombia. Up to the present date 53 USO members have been dismissed for union activism on the basis of the illegality of the strike. (background and greater depth on USO situtation)

You probably remember from last week (20.04.04) the restructuring of the National Apprenticeship Scheme (SENA) resulting in higher costs, fewer teachers, more students and greater involvement of the private sector. The public protests against it were met with police brutality and arbitrary detentions across the country in order to debilitate resistance to further change and ultimately privatisation. In acordance with this policy members of the SINDESENA directive committee found themselve themselves transferred, stripped of functions or made redundant. The most extreme case being that of WILSON ARIAS, member of the SINDESENA National Committee and CUT Executive Committee who, for opposition to the restructuring has been sacked and has appeared on a list with three other Cali Union leaders threatened with death (ALEXANDER LOPEZ, MP for Valle del Cauca, LUIS HERNANDEZ, President of SINTRAEMCALI, and EDGAR PEREA Member of the SINTRAMETAL Executive Committee.

In an addition to this the Uribe Government is pushing for judicial reforms in an attempt to secure a constitutional amendment to secure the President a second term and more seriously to severely limit the role of the Constitutional Court, an essential branch of the democratic system which would serve as check on the actions of the the President if reelected. Toping it off is the globaly popular introduction and use of new "anti terrorism" laws to criminalise the activities of and castigate members of trade unions and social movements.

In response to this wave of privatisation and state violence in repression of unionism and social protest underlined by judicial reform, that has reached boiling point this week, the union of university workers held a 3000 strong public at the university of Valle on Wednesday the 5th of May, as a declaration of solidarity with the sectors affected and in recognition of the gravity of the national situation.

On Thursday the 6th Students and staff held a demonstration. It was almost spontaneous, totally unadvertised and well attended. It began at 11 am with a road blockage outside the University Pasoancho entrance. Within fifteen minutes a large police contingent arrived comprised of officers from the Anti [civil] Disturbance Squadron (ESMAD) and Military Police (PM). The police drove the students into the University Campus with tear gas where they held their ground behind the entrance Gates. Initially nature was on the demonstators side, a southerly wind blowing the noxious gases right back into the lines of robotic police soldiers. Two police riot vehicles equipped with water cannons and tear gas were positioned in the road between the University entrance and Unicentro Shopping centre. One (no. 24027) was used as a shield behind which police fired tear gas while the other was used in various failed attempts to penetrate the university gates using water cannons. It was initially shocking and then really quite inspiring to see the severity conflict with the police. Being experienced in resisting the force of well equipt anti civil disturbance police forces, the students went in to battle well prepared. Indeed it was somehwat perplexing to a student acustomed to UK peaceful protest when they arrived with gallons of milk. It wasnt until I was standing balling my eyes out from tear gas under a nearby tree and a girl sprayed milk in my face that I remembered milk’s soothing capacity other than as an acompanyment to choclate chip cookies. The students put up a good fight returning fire with home made smoke bombs, stones and molotov cocktails. From the sidelines stood the supportive staff from dinner ladies and security guards to lecturers, calm in the shade from the heat of the day and talking with the students taking a break form the frontlines to milk their eyes or smoke a cigarette. The demonstration continued for some five hours inside the Campus grounds into which the police repeatedly fired CS2 tear gas, an american inovation more lacrimoneous than normal CS and imported to Colombia as part of US military aid for Plan Colombia. Ironically the road which the students began by blocking before retreating into the campus grounds remained closed until 5pm blocked by the police from where they launched their attacks. Ironic but logical really, for the authorities, what would have been the point of a demo that didnt disturb the public. (click for full report)

Its easy to take one two conflicting veiws about the events, both of which I felt a different points but neither of which I maintain in veiw of the whole. One is to get caught caught up in the frivolity of it all, the insults at the police, their cocky rebuttles, the cheering when they take a casualty, a smoke bomb penetrates their lines or one of them does a lame stone throw or poor shot with CS canister, the pain and exitement of revolt. The other is a disgust at the violence. That these people at whom we are throwing stones are people also, many of whom didnt have the chance to go to university and learn about the system they are fighting to defend or the alternatives they are fighting to opress. That like fighting a war for peace its justification rests on the same contradictions that the states we resist have tried to sell us a thousand times. That we will never get anywhere fighting.

I know the fallaciousness of trying to justify violence against the police even if in self defence. I have argued it many times from the comfort of my own smoke filled living room. This argument I feel more deeply, and for a person who comes from [an on the whole] internally peaceful nation its quite an easy one to maintain. The problem is that when faced with the brutality of a state that denies through criminalisation and violence the most basic forms of social protest against a system that denies the most basic rights, services and national wealth, a tougher resistence is necessary. It sounds polemic and perhaps it is but some things are achieved by fighting and some things are worth fighting for if its the only option. To see the passion and determination in their actions and to hear the desperation in their voices was terrifying for its demonstration of the gravity of the situation. This is a long way from smashing up Macdonalds on London, these are students in a university community that has lost 55 people to assassinations in the last 5 years, whose friends and family have disappeared od been threatened by state agencies whose crimes remain in impunity. Their rage is founded in grave injustice and inspired in me a respect for those willing to continue to risk their lives for a different world.

(I know many people will be against what ive said. You can never justify stone throwing academically and maybe at some point i'll think differently, we are all learning. For now i maintain in light of what ive seen that the situation justifies the methods. To those who disagree, I would propose to come here and see for yourself what peole are up against before passing judgement)

MAY DAY

2004-05-02T19:54:00.000-05:00

May Day or International Workers Day has traditionally been the day when workers and activists across the world take to the streets to rally for workers rights. In Britain, as issues have seemingly changed in recent decades such demonstrations have converted into or been branded “anti globalisation” marches. This clearly erroneous brand name (given that if its international mobilization it is an example of globalisation - of resistance) implies that the labour rights side had been forgotten in favour of some new ill defined anti-cause. On the contrary the resistance to economic globalisation, or the broad prescription of neoliberal economic policy resulting in the privatisation of public services and deregulation across the private sector is profoundly about workers rights*. If anything the rights demanded, have been broadened so as to encompass environmental protection, basic human rights and social justice.

But in spite of the growing global justice (or mis termed anti-globalisation) movement in the UK and large numbers turning to the streets on other days, May day itself has become somewhat deflated in recent years. It seems to have lost its significance. I personally wouldn’t put this down to apathy or to a change in fashion and I’m also not morally opposed to destruction of private property for political purposes, if an effective method. In recent years however, violence (admittedly exacurbated by police) and vandalism often carried out by people who the rest of the year have nothing to do with the political movement, I think, has given may day a bad name. As such the majority of activists don’t want to be associated with it. (Just for the record I don’t subscribe to this opt out view either and go to May in the UK with many others of similar conviction to represent for those of us that think theres more to it than kicking in MacDonald’s window with a pair of Nike’s on).

In contrast, May Day here in Colombia is still very important and particularly now at a time when the hard-line neoliberal policies of president Uribe Velez pose ever increasing threats not only public services, the environment (and by implication the majority of the population) but the democratic right of dissent through public protest itself. Yes here it is very important and this year´s May Day Demonstration in Santiago de Cali was the largest ever recorded.

The march began in the Plaza St. Nicholas at around 9am on a day that was already beginning to swelter. Historically, and perhaps contrary to non-Colombian perception, it has been a day of relatively peaceful protest. The police presence was relatively low (though well armed), compared with my memory of last year in London where at times police seemed to outnumber protesters, and old people and children were present which can often have a pacifying effect. The organisation in the sense of grouping of people along the march and corresponding banners etc. was primarily by trades union rather than social movement (as is the current norm in the UK) since here the unions are one of the primary forms of organised resistance, monitoring and defence of both labour and basic human rights.

The march was slow under the searing heat and relatively uneventful. The usual chants castigating government adherence to US policy, and IMF restrictions with criticism of Uribe´s policy of Democratic security branding the president as the terrorist or paramilitary. By the time we got close to the Parque de las Banderas the march was somewhat subdued, thirsty and hot after a slow walk in the sun, chants continued but with little carry on. At the final road crossing before the Parque on Calle 5, Carrera 34 at around 12am the convoy stopped. About 100 had already crossed and were in front of the main line amongst which I was one. We strolled towards the trees to get some shade when shots rang out and people started running. I sheltered behind a bus shelter as tear gas canisters shot into the air and police in large numbers moved in on the main body of demonstrators. Immediately the people on our side of the blockage had rocks in their hands and were hurling them at the police but due to the fragmentation of the march it was also in the direction of our fellow protesters. This immediately made our direction a target for tear gas and more shots tolled as fresh canisters hit the streets. The subdued order of the moments before had converted into chaos and over the loudspeaker that had been set up for speeches organisers desperately called for everyone to fill the plaza for unity and security. A police riot line was moving now in our direction pelted with rocks form the enraged males. From behind them rushed out 5 brave demonstrators with arms in the air to signal to stop throwing rocks, at that moment police from the side rushed the square dispersing the rock throwers. More people entered the square and announcements rang out to remain peaceful, allow the rest of the demonstrators in and for those with any information on injured or detained to come to the front.

In total seventeen people were injured at five distinct locations along the march. Police wearing no identifying numbers or names (in violation of national and international norms) from the special force ESMAD (anti disturbance squadron) employed CS, tear gas, pepper spray and excessive force against demonstrators. In Bogotá and Medellin, also contrary to previous years the marches passed in the same fashion. Peaceful until the very end when police moved in with brutal force.

When the square was full and peace recovered, speeches were followed by entertainment in the form of a traditional dance with music similar to Tango but less tragic and a local radical hip hop group. With the information collected we headed back to the office to write the denunciation report. When done and talking over food, Edgar, a large and battle experienced trade union activist said he was glad that it had happened so as show the people the severity of the social situation. Gabriel was outraged as he had been with his 12 year old son and clearly it had been nothing short of harrowing for both of them. I thought it an interesting comment in view of the paradox that by all appearances (given that the same unprovoked attacks happened across the country) it seemed to be part of a government policy to discredit the protests (similar to the way in which UK May Day has lost credit in UK public opinion) but if Edgar is right it could have the reverse effect. Personally I think the statement is kind of a self fulfilling propechy given the logic that if it hadn’t happened then the situation probably wouldn’t really be that serious. The fact that it did shows that it is so in that he’s right. What stood out to me was the speed of the change from normality to chaos indicating the tensity and fragility of the situation here that can often appear as business as usual in spite of underlying problems. For many (such as those in big business) it is just that.

After sending the report I headed back to San Antonio where the neighbourhood was in full swing of May Day weekend celebrations. There is an “open doors” festival in progress by which as the name suggests the many artists and crafts people that have their workshops and studios in the area open their doors to the public. Many normal homes convert the street outside into bars selling Chicha a fermented corn drink and Guarapo a potent wine type substance made from sugar cane with cloves and cinnamon. The park was packed and music coming from all sides. Very Colombian both in atmosphere, openness, and in the ubiquitous stark contrast between this and the days events.

At eleven o’clock we sat down at the side of the park to have a beer and chat with friends. The police arrived and said it was bedtime and as if by presidential decree it started raining. We went home and drank rum.

Its now Sunday I went to the river Pance today. its only about ten minutes out of town but in place can feel like 100 miles. There’s a nature reserve and hoards of Caleños head there at the weekend to bath in the rivers fast flowing clear waters. It was busy but I found a quiet spot and watched the powerful churning rapids flow over sloid rocks and fragile exquist butterfies fly ove both. It was a welcom relaxation. I’m now in the internet café by the park and the last band is playing on the stage set up for the weekend. A group of about ten young people none over the age of sizteen playing salsa with incredible energy and musical skill. Its raining hard but everyone is dancing. I’m going to join them.

Click to read the original urgent action report of the May Day violence.

*Given that deregulation means the removal of regulations that protect workers rights and or the environment.

food fight

2004-04-27T19:54:00.000-05:00

The agricultural-environmental side of this whole globalization battle has never really caught my attention all that much. Yeah, of course Im up for organic food and what not but surely when people are stripped of basic human rights such as assembly, protest, social organisation, threatened, kidnapped and killed by quasi-state agents there are more pressing issues at hand.

Either way, this weekend I took the opportunity to escape the city. On an old brightly painted American schoolbus, I and around twenty others ranging from students, apprentices, union battleaxes, to displaced coca farmers and NGO so n sos headed up into the green mountains for a workshop on agricultural security. Ironically perhaps, the education project, which it is part of, operating in five areas across the country and meeting in secret (due to the ever-present security risk posed by educationalists to the state) is funded by the EU.

Ironic perhaps, since Common[senseless] Agricultural Policy which also began as a policy of food security and currently eats 40% of the EU budget promotes intensive industrial pesticide fueled farming the antithesis of which the eduaction project seeks to reintroduce. But hey, I shouldn’t dis the hand that feeds me (and the food was pretty good) after all cultivation of GMOs has been suspended in Europe. It’s just there’s a bit more to it. Let me say now that this isn’t going to be an ecowarrior rant and Im not getting into the debate of whether or not GMOs are healthy or not (I take the if it aint broke... viewpoint on that one anyway) This rant is about power, control, dependence, and most of all resistance but of a different kind to either the street battle or parliamentary pressure.

This country as ive probably mentioned before has the highest biodiversity in the world. It has the capacity to provide food for its people, to be agriculturally sovereign we could say. But wait, what’s that? a double cinna-mocha-foma-chino? hang on urg... £3.50? OK. Yes, I recognize comparative advantage exists, some places can grow certain products better than others and certain people will pay the price so surely there’s some sense in a little specialization. Undoubtedly, Fair Trade can be beneficial. Im not suggesting closing off boarders, but what has gone on over the course of the last thirty years is more than a little specialization. The homogenization and intensification of farming, driven by the IMF’s holy neoliberal mantra of export led growth has imposed a system of control and is costing the earth.

Yes it has created markets, dependent, captive markets despite the emancipation insinuated by the rhetoric of freedom. It has entrenched reliance on develloped states for their goods and services stifling development and making economies volatile to the whims of the irrational market despite its rhetoric of logic. Indeed where is the logic in GM crops that don’t regerminate so seed must be purchased each year or that contrary to their purported miracle properties require more pesticides not less? It’s a simple logic of profit and has served to empower the rich nations and multinationals and debilitate producers.

Here in Colombia, unsatisfied by the profits made by patenting life, selling chemicals, and creating a captive market (funny that free trade can do that isn’t it) for goods produced overseas, multinational companies and the co-opted national oligarchies realized that yet more money could be extracted form the land. Luckily it was only the campesinos, almost non-participants in the national money economy, (and thus an unused resource in themselves unless relocated), that stood in the way. Displacement was easy, funded by the gracious US aid in the form of the War on Drugs it has not only created urban food markets for rapidly appearing supermarket chains but has left the country side open to exploitation of more fruitful resources (minerals, oil).

As such, agricultural sovereignty, or growing food to provide for that area and decreasing reliance on imported goods including pesticides and patented seeds by moving to sustainable organic farming methods is not just about preserving the environment, it’s a form of defense. It’s about resisting the grip of multinationals by reducing their role, empowering people locally and rejecting the paternalistic relationship of dependency. What was good about this weekend was to see people organized. To recognize how much further there is to go but also, to hear about the multitude of projects that are in progress here and in many communities accross the world.

Sunday evening we descended back into the heat of Cali. It was a sunny evening and I headed up to the park in San Antonio. It gets busyish at the weekend, good smells fill the warm air emanating from the stalls round the church and as the light disappears the city scape below mirrors the sparkling sky. A comic was doing a skit about the violent clashes between the police and students at the University of Valle last year. I ate a delicious deep fried then barbecued platano, had a wander and bumped into a girl from the wokshop. She was with two Arhuaco friends, the indigenous people of the Sierra Nevada. They spoke in organic similes alluding to the power of and complexity of the natural world, and exhibited a mental approach, a revolution apart from the political struggle of which we had debated over the weekend. While their agrcultural soveriegnty has been damaged by external forces speaking with them reminded me that mental soveriegnty is something no external power can take away.

Silencing dissent? Viva la Punk!

2004-04-23T17:06:00.000-05:00

23.04.04

It´s a wet Friday here in Cali and I'm sitting out in the back yard patio of Julieta´s house awaiting a lift to work by the armed escorts employed by the State to protect my colleagues (from threats from quasi State organizations - seemingly counterintuitive but better than no protection).

Its been a fairly busy week and when not racing round town to meet with various people I've been stationed at the office of the University Workers Union (SINTRAUNICOL) on the Universidad de Valle campus. Its a large green campus and covered in anti Americanan/imperialist murals, calling for peace and reconciliation. Che here is still symbolic of dissent, revolution and most of all hope unlike in the UK where his image is brand of teeshirt. As such, quite naturally, he is a prominent feature on the walls with many huge paintings and pertinent quotes. Its a different world from the high security SINTRAEMCALI offices in town though with a history no less turbulent.

Most of the stuff we'veve been up to has revolved around preparations for the launch of the new Human Rights Campaign (ÂSo That The University Can Live in Colombia!Â) ranging from mundane data entry compiling the necessary databases for denunciation of violations and promotion of the campaign to meetings with directors, committee members of various non governmental organizationsions and Unions in which I've ive felt pretty out of my depth. Spanish is still hard, its one thing chatting with mates in Spain, another trying to articulate intelligent comments about highly comlex political situations with people who are well on it. It doesn't help being so young in comparisonsson to all my colleagues but its unavoidable and natural really. Kind of like the feeling of going from being the oldest at middle school to the little one in secondary, something that will repeat itself through life in different forms.

As well as the university higher education system here in Colombia there is, like in many countries, a National professional Training apprenticeshipship Scheme (The SENA). This year the Government pushed through three bills (248, 249 and 250 of 2004) with the objective of restructuring programamme. The changes are similar to those experienced in UK education, greater coverage, reduced budgets, dismantling the rights and
services of the students and workers such as boarding facilities, medical
services, transport, libraries and cafeterias and a greater degree of incorporation form the private sector to the effect that students will have to gain funding through private companies.

Meanwhile in anticipation of resistance governmentment has selectively restuctured certain areas so as to leave union leaders redundant. In response to this union organisations have declared themselves in a Permanent Assembly in all SENA installations across the country to demand respect for the institution and open negotiations with government. Students and staff have been protesting all week outside SENA buildings accross Cali and the country.

On Tuesday while sitting at my desk emersed in the slow motion monotony of entering email adresses to a data base on a painfully slow computer two girls burst in to the office with the news that one of the demonstations had erupted into violence. A force comprised of 100 officers from the ESMAC or anti mutiny squadron and led by superintendent JUAN CARLOS BERNAL moved in on the demonstrators employing excessive force and anti personal spray. In total eleven students and one member of staff suffered injuries due to police brutality and one student (ANDRES GEOVANI MERA) was arbitrarily detained for four hours inside a police riot vehicle into which the police sprayed pepper gas. Another (ALBEIRIO GARCIA) suffered a fractured wrist and another (CLAUDIA MOSQUERA) incurred a broken rib at the hands of the police. Member of staff ANA MILENA MARTINEZ was beaten by police suffering bruising and students were beaten and exposed to CS gas pepper spray. A number of the victims were taken to the Occidental Heath Clinic and other health centres across the city.

In spite of this the demos continued all week and are set to carry on until an agreement is reached.

Right now I am back at the University at my desk. There is a seminar in about half an hour on impunity and the path to justice. The rain has given up and the building is reverberating with the sound of Latin American Punk coming from a soundsystem the students have set up outside. Many people are sitting around under the large trees that shade the surrounding area.

Its friday in Cali.

Saturday 17.04.04

2004-04-21T19:02:00.000-05:00

ni por el MAS,
ni por el menos,
ni por el putas retrodeceremos,

On wednesday shortly after my arrival I was sat on bench under a large tree in the picturesque University Campus with Gabriel. We were discussing the near future while awaiting a lift home when we were informed by a colleague of the shooting of Raul Perea Zuñiga. As it happens, the 13 bullets which perforated his body actually had his brother’s name on them but the bullets, being as they are, rather undiscriminating characters, killed him anyway. He was 38. His older brother, Edgar Perea who escaped with just two bullet wounds is a Vice-president of SINTRAMENTAL YUMBO, the metal workers union of in Yumbo, Colombia.

The following day (15.04.04) at around 7pm in Cali, Carlos Alberto Chicaiza was also shot dead, age 41. He was a member of the board of directors of the Workers Union for Various Services (municipal cleaning etc.) SINTRAEMSIRVA. He had previously served as President, Vice-president, and Publicity Secretary during his 16 years working for the company and was a staunch defender of it remaining public against Government pressure for privatisation.

For me, things have been pretty quiet really. Ive been in a sort of limbo. Gabriel flew to Barranquilla the day after I arrived not to return till monday and Julietta, NOMADESC Director, Project coordinator for Human Rights training, and Head of the SINTRAEMCALI Human Rights Department) who was to organise with me what i would be doing has been tied up until yesterday with a report for War on Want who administer some of the funding for the projects in the Human Rights Department. As such Ive got to know the city a little walking progressively larger round the bustling streets. The office is in the centre of town in which different blocks tend to specialise in a certain type of shop. We are in the centre of large soundsystem district with some 25 shops selling fat speakers, lights and high power amplifiers which pump Dancehall and Salsa at high volume into the streets. The streets are lined with small stalls, wheelbarrows, and mats laid out on the floor from which people sell all from fruit n veg, drinks, hot n cold food, watches, mobile phones, pirate CDs to lottery tickets spread out along huge boards. There also seems to be an abundance of shops specialising in all sorts of outmoded secondhand technological parts which are piled up inside in such a way as to resemble a cavity in C3P0s small intestine. Its lively, busy and has a friendly feel. In the plaza..........., a central square shaded by a veritable folly of tall thin palms sit rows of shoeshiners with somewhat dishevelled yet no the less regal chairs raised above the height of the plebeian concrete park benches. At either side are two sunken semi circles with steps leading down to where vintage suited men sit under large parasols with mechanical typewriters offering secretarial services hopeful customers.

On friday, after a perusal of some inviting second hand bookshops behind the obligatory pigeon infested plaza, I met with Julieta. She is a small mid thirties worker bee, much friendlier than I had imagined, and is a kind of reference point for anyone doing anything and seems to know everyone. She offered me a room at her house, (and crucially, at the time, use of a washing machine) so I packed my bags. We were picked up by armoured, blacked out SUV and cruised through town to hers as friday night was beginning to kick off. I dropped my bags and were off again to meet some union people for a few beers. The discussion was intense, and though i struggled to follow at times, its urgency and passionate execution by the people present hit me again with the severity of the situation here. I felt well out of my depth.

The coming together of these people has not happened for over a year due to security reasons and upon leaving the bar we were surrounded by at least 15 armed, non-uniformed body guards and dispersed quickly. Julieta and finished the evening dancing salsa, something which Cali is famous for and upon which Calinos pride themselves. The standards were high. (note to self: learn to salsa).

Saturday we got up around midday, hungover but conscious. Julieta had to go into the office to do something to do with the last assassination. I didn't catch exactly what but thought it was the writing of denunciation report or something. I went along as I wanted to get online. We had breakfast in a corner self service joint about two blocks from the offices. It was hotter than it had been since my arrival and the air was filled with the relentless siren of large trucks sounding their horns. After eating we headed towards the union and also in the direction of the sound. A block away we encountered the streets gridlocked with huge municipal cleaning vehicles crammed with uniformed workers in some kind of demo. I saw two cars with flower bouquets on their bonnets and I felt for the unfortunate wedding party that had got stuck in the middle of the demo. It occurred to me that if they had a demo like this every time a worker got assassinated it would be a good way of denunciating the act. The thought evaporated. As we reached the union I began to notice that many of the trucks also had bouquets. There were loads of people round the building and we went into a function hall to the side of the of main door. In here there were also flowers and a small crowd toward the centre back with chairs surrounding and some people seated. I got closer and a man was shouting with terrorised desperation into an open wooden box in the centre of the crowd. The box contained the corpse of Raul Perea Zuñiga.

I sat down, part stupefied by my not having realised until that point what was going on and part shocked by the simple proximity of a reality normally a few comforting steps removed. After sitting a while I left the building and went next door to watch the procession from the balcony. There must have been 100 trucks, and buses for mourners stretching as far as the eye could see, all crammed with people, adorned with flowers and sounding their horns as they passed. The nearby streets were chaos and police on motorbikes zipped up and down with the futile motion of a fly at a window. It was moving to see such a potent demonstration of solidarity from the staff of the company for a fellow employee and deeply incredible that this continues to go on unnoticed. As the cask was carried out the crowd shouted with a tone not so much mournful as invincible:
Porque, porque, porque nos asesina? somos la esperanza de America Latina!
(why, why, why do they assassinate us? we are the hope of Latin America!)

When the last bus had joined the end of the procession towards the cemetery we got a taxi to a discreet location in an industrial part of town for the 20th anniversary of the CUT. It was outside in the truck park of a factory unit and consisted of a mix of powerful emotive speeches calling people to action, more subdued talks relaying information, films about the situation of public services and human rights abuses against workers, two immense cauldrons of stew, rice, beer, music and dancing. It was inspirational to see the people coming together in spite of it all and carrying on in this way. The atmosphere was both serious and hilarious, solemn and joyful, contrasts which and as is probably becoming obvious seems to typify this country.

Cali por fin.

2004-04-16T12:56:00.000-05:00

As I was finishing the presentation last night Ricardo was finally able to get in contact with Gabriel in Cali. “You can leave tonight or tommorrow morning” he informed me. given that as yet i’d seen little of the country i thought i may as well go by day and so this morning at about half five Ricardo got me up, we drank a cup of hot chocolate as per routine, and he took me to th e bus station in spite of my protests the night before that he needn’t. He explained to me in detail how not to have my bag robbed, how to find a phone in the bus station, how to use it, to be sure to have change, how to get a taxi, where to and how much it should cost, and how to find the Union offices in the university in the super caring if somewhat OTT style Ive grown accustomed to from my dad.

The bus journey is 10 hours through two incredible green mountain ranges along steep and winding roads. It was nice to be moving again, particularly on my own as in Bogota i had been escorted everywhere, not so much out of fear on the part of my hosts but hospitality. I finally finished 100 years of Solitude on the bus The villages along the way, perched often precariously on the incredibly steep mountainsides, are colourful and somewhat ramshakle nesting in the dense and lively foliage of banana trees, palms and countless other species of overactive tropical plants. Their colour and relative disorder are in stark contrast to the frequent military outposts, checkpoints, fences and neatly piled sandbags of the quite heavily militarized region. Armed youngsters stand by and await their solemn duty with a perplexing look of fear and pride.

As we got to within about an hour or so of arriving on what had been a pretty uneventful trip the driver slammed on the breaks causing the large bus to slide diagonally across the narrow road. The sideways force caused an old lady to fly from her seat, across the isle and into my lap. We came to a holt, unharmed but in total confusiong and somewhat entangled. It turned out to have only been a flat tyre, the sharp breaking remained unexplained.

I arrived at Cali bus station around 6pm, after some 11 hours on the bus. The air was warm and full and there was an atmosphere of busy activity but with a lack of hury. I callled the SINTRAUNICOL office, somewhat apprehensive as I hadn’t yet spoken directly to anyone there but had much communication via third parties and some by email. The response was friendly and enthusiastic, and in good spirits I got a taxi. My overexcited and friendly taxi driver, a Caleño and proud of it (ie. from Cali), gave me the 10minute introduction to the town while threading the needle through the chaotic traffic with his eyes planted firmly on the Caleñas which dominated his descriptions of the place. I arrived at the Uni and with some direction from an unknown woman who knew my name waiting outside i made my way to the Union offices. The university workers union here is a world apart form the bare and clinical rooms of the discreet Bogotá office. Teeming with people, and adorned with a huge picture of Ché on the wall, I got a friendly reception and attempted to memorise countless names in my travel weary state. Gabriel, the mid thirties casually dressed and informally speaking Human Rights secretary was to be my host. We discussed the various options re. accommodation and what I will actually be doing. He is teeming with ideas and enthusiasm and there seems to be a lot of positve work in progress and much to do.

We were driven out of town by a guy who im not sure if he is a driver or colleague since Gabriel and I sat in the back while he took us from place to place. After climbing out of the city and following a bumpy track for some 20 minutes he stopped the 4x4. I was told to leave my bag in the vehicle as th e driver was staying with it and we got out into the unlit night to the sound of a furious rocky river swollen by the rains. Gabriel seemed to be heading straight off of the side of a small precipice into the water when I was able to make out a rope bride spanning the 30 meter gap with large bamboo poles. We crossed the violent torrent below and were in what seemed to be black jungle through which we climbed following an elusive path until reaching a small hut, the home of a friend and painter to discuss the possibility of me staying there or renting such a house with some other people nearby.

After talking and smoking a cigar that contrary to all previous experience was actually nice, we left and went down to where the car was waiting. We headed back into town, got some good food from some street side establishments and headed to the SINTRAEMCALI (Municipal workers union) offices in town. This again was a another world from either the SINTRAUNICOL offices in Bogotá or In Cali where I had just been. A large blacked out bullet proof glass window sits next to a metal door and beside that a bell with a built mini dv camera. Gabriel explained that I was to stay here until something more permanent was arranged. The security guard, a skinhead with piercing eyes, constantly flickering and assessing the scene made some phone calls to verify Gabriel’s claim. He kept his gun casually in the pocket of his deflated duffle coat. The large building resembled form the inside an old inner city college, whose institutional and as such authoritarian feel was counteracted by the numerous dissident posters and colourful displays. I was shown to a basic room with some beds in it and a fan and went to sleep.

Blackouts and fireworks

2004-04-12T21:47:00.000-05:00

hello if anyone is out there.
Its been pretty quiet here really. Visiting relatives of Ricardo have left as has his wife Christina as she works and lives a few hours away. Ive just been working really. I hadn't realised the size of this presentation so started getting stuck in yesterday.

About two or three in the afternoon it started pissing it down, severe tropical storm stylee, roads become rivers and there's no point going outside except to get wet type affair. I didn't mind though, as I was cracking on with work and enjoying it, at least until the power cut. Luckily it returned about 5 minutes later and I was able to turn on the computer, unfortunately only for long enough to realise id lost the previous 3 hours work before it cut out again. Damn. It was still light so I read. Appropriately the period of the endless rains in 100 years of solitude began. Toward the evening it began to cease but the power didn't return. Ricardo had come home so we ate before it got too dark and decided to head out to what I thought was some sort of open air theatre thing in the park of Simon Bolivar. The rain had stopped but large sections of the city were still in total blackness. As we approached the centre the streets were packed with people and seemingly endless cues snaked off in confusing directions. We got of the bus and rather than blindly joining a cue decide to follow the largest to its source. I asked Ricardo again where we going and it was actually the Plaza Simon Bolivar rather than the park, which given the amount of people would have been a lot more sensible. The cue came to a mass of people standing behind a flimsy wall made across the street where they were letting through dribs and drabs of people who were lined up properly. We were still some four blocks from the Plaza where evidently something a lot more spectacular than street theatre was supposed to be happening. We joined a cueish type mob near the front and waited as the crowd became more desperate and police more exasperated. Shouting and whistling built into pushing and return whistling from the police who despite their vast numbers and military uniforms looked like a pack of lost boyscouts at a gabba nite, not one above the age of 21. The pushing evolved into crushing and with a smooth final push and a sigh of relief the wall was breached enveloping the screaming police boys in a sea of people. As they frantically blew their whistles the crowd broke into a run and we didn't look back. Almost as soon as we had started running we came across another barricade but this time they police were not as foolhardy and let us through. Every barrier just seemed to lead to more endless cues until the cue was indistinguishable from the crowd and small streets flowed slowly with people. Confused we looked up to the sound of an enormous bang and a flash of light. The closing fireworks of whatever it is were trying to get to. There was no going further as the police had barricaded the streets again but as explosions filled the air and the crowd built they opened the flood gates again. We ran, there was no choice, herd mentality, and pure bedlam as sparked rained from the sky to the street and the city echoed with explosions. The crowd eventually slowed to a walk and we reached the plaza. Impenetrable. As we arrived they tuned and exited and it was impossible to go upstream. We turned and wandered back dodging the animated street vendors selling tasty hot food from suped up wheelbarrows at discount prices as the night drew in. It was good. Ten times better than having actually reached the plaza normally and standing still like a sardine watching some municipal spectacle.

The electricity eventually returned at 3am this morning when after some delirious puzzling in bed I realised that I had left my light on when the power had initially cut out and that explained the early artificial sunrise. Today not much really. Re did the work I lost and have enjoyed getting stuck in for the rest of the day. Being a normal work day the office came to life in the morning with people comming and going but that's all really. It looks like I wont be going to Cali for a while as the people I was going to meet are going to Baranquilla on the North Coast so I think im going up there as they are launching the University HR campaign i spoke of and am translating and re-writing the English presentation for. Anyway we shall see.

Sharp thorns, sweet fruit: 09.04.04

2004-04-10T09:35:00.000-05:00

Lateish last night as we were sat around the table ther e was a sound at the door and Ricardo my calm and good humoured host jumped up knocking the table and was the door before I turn my head to the sound. The door opened and Jose Munera walked in unannounced. The president of the union, a small man in his mid to late forties made no greeting and went straight to the phone and made a call. He was promtly upstairs and in discussion with Ricardo unitl the rest of us went to bed. He was gone by morning. His predecessor is still missing, presumed dead.

Today is good friday and relatives are over. The sister of Ricardo and her husband have come round. Its a quiet day, a family day. There streets are dead. We ate a good lunch of fish stew, rice and plantain and played cards. though they do not own a fridge i have been fed enough since arriving in this house to last me till i come home. im loving sitting around talking though its often heavy. Its something I couldnt really do the last time I was here due to the language barrier and for every time a conversation decends into a deep and desperate lamentation a persistent humour rejuvinates the silence with laughter. they are extremes reflective of this country and its people, one of the most violent yet one of the most beautiful on earth.

yesterday we walked up to Montseratte a church atop the towering green mounains to the east of the city. there is a cable car which takes you to the top but we decided to walk. Given the hefty climb and the presence of the cable car I imagined a small track winding up to the top with perhaps the odd keen rambler but no more. What we found was a heaving pilgrimage snaking its way up the rocky track, adorned with shacks and their screaming vendors selling everything form all types of refreshment and food to prayerbooks and rosaries to aid the mission. several older people had collapsed on the path and were being aided by makeshift medics in uniform. people carried children, children led decrepid grandparents and the smell of sweat was only masked by the woodsmoke pumping out from under enormas friers cooking provisions for the travellers. It took us about an hour and a half and god rewarded us by pissing it down when we got to the top also heaving with easter week revellers. it was a good outing.

This after noon after having spent most of the day indoors we went for a little walk before dinner. A man was selling beautiful flowers and plants under a dirty overpass near some open wasteland where the remains of a decrepid circus lay. We noticed how the branches of plants bearing the sweetest fruits also wore the sharpest thorns. The sun came out this evening and we had an ice cream.

wake up: 08.04.04

2004-04-10T08:39:00.000-05:00

Fuck. Today for the first time in my life I've come close to recognising the severity of the situation here. its not even that I've learned anything new, but simply that from talking to Christina this morning in the kitchen while she prepared breakfast it began to dawn on me. Speaking to a human being who’s life has been affected, who has lost relatives, has not the money to emigrate nor the desire to abandon her country and so carries on has hit me deeply. What i said about the happiness of the people here i don't take back but it is quite a rosy western traveller analysis that everything is better away from your own culture and requires some qualifications. There is also a deep sadness, desperation and real terror living in the hearts and mind of people which must be recognised. Christina told me about her family, campesinos from San Luis Tolima a place with a long history of brutal conflict. Her uncle, a farmer, now displaced from his land like so many others, lost six sons. Christina lost her younger brother to the paramilitaries. She explained how the young have four job opportunities in the countryside when farming no longer becomes viable due either to the levys campesinos must pay to paramilitaries in their area or that they are displaced from their land. These are; guerilla, paramilitary, police or army. The people are being armed to fight each other while their fertile farmland is either left to grow wild, destroyed by coca eradication chemicals sprayed from the air or is dug up by multinationals to extract valuable natural resources. Those that resist or voice disapproval are killed. Often turned in by desperate neighbours in exchange for money to feed their children. Children too are co-opted and form a valuable part of the counter insurgency intelligence network in their innocence. Others emigrate or move to the city but work is scarce here too and the armed forces offers minimum wage and health cover not to mention precious authority to the young and disposessed. Christina was almost in tears and I speechless. its easy to get wrapped up in side issues, to reassure yourself that things are not so bad, here they are. This is a fascist police state, supported by the US and Europe, viewed as a legitimate democracy and in a state of permanent war, not on drugs but on its own people. This country has been ignored for long enough and something must be done. at the very least informing people in the US and UK what billions of dollars worth of taxpayers money is being spent on while eradication of coca, the supposed rational has not only proved ineffective but counterproductive:

"Department figures show coca increasing in Colombia by 268% since large-scale spraying started in 1995, and ONDCP figures showed a 25% increase in coca production in 2001, despite widespread fumigation."

"According to a 1994 study by the RAND Corporation, coca and poppy crop eradication is the least effective method for controlling drug supply: treatment and prevention is 23 times more cost effective than source country eradication. Nonetheless, forced aerial eradication of coca and poppy crops is a central part of the US aid package to Colombia."

http://www.globalexchange.org/countries/colombia/failedDrugWar.html

07.04.04

2004-04-10T08:34:00.000-05:00

Though tired I slept quite poorly and felt desperately unprepared again questioning myself over what i could possibly have to offer people who seemed clearly ten times more dedicated an informed than myself. i dreamed that i made various fuck ups and had to keep waking myself up to reassure myself that it wasn't real. In spite of all i read before i came here i didn't really have clue. Its easy to romanticise political struggle but seeing people living on fuck all and putting their lives in danger simply fighting for basic rights put things in perspective somewhat. its humbling and almost embarresing when I think of my own complaints or self gratification for small actions taken form the comfort of home. everything in context though, i spose theres no point chastising yourself.

In the morning jet lag woke me early and i set about compiling some things to research, or ways i could possibly make myself useful. Luckily Ricardo had a task for me; the translation of power point slideshow explaining a new campaign: “Para que la Universidad viva en Colombia” - So that the University can live in Colombia. Many of the issues such as the effects increased privatisation linked with the General Agreemant on Trade in Srvices (GATS) and problems of elitism are similar to those faced in UK Universities (see www.gatswatch.org). The difference is that while in the UK debate and dissenting opinions about such changes are largely ignored by government, here in Colombia they are met with brutal violence. The former president of the University workers union is missing presumed dead and in the last five years fifty five members of the university community (students and staff) have been killed or disappeared. People are terrified to demonstrate or even voice an opinion critical of government policy in the very institutions where debate and discussion should thrive as part of a functioning democracy.

In the afternoon two friends of Ricardo and Christina, Mauicio and Fernanda came round for a meeting but due to the absence of some others who were supposed to attend it was postponed. Instead we went fro a walk and beer nearby. Stepping out of the door the huge green mountains that sharply define the city limits almost startled me with their imposing presence. I had forgotten how beautiful this city is. We walked slowly down the wide streets of the friendly semi rundown suburban neighbourhood, few cars crowded the roads eclipsed in number by the brightly coloured and lovingly adorned collectivos chugging along packed with people. I am beginning to remember why Joe and I fell in love with Colombia. The people are certainly a big part of it. It is astonishing that in a land where poverty, violence, and death are interwoven into everyday life that people see to be able appreciate the joy of simple existence and pass it on to others through kind action, something which is so illusive in our wealthy and peaceful nation. Perhaps transient nature of life is more real to people, even if subconsciously and that fosters an appreciation of what there is here and now. Equally, perhaps that's bollocks and im just being sentimental. i know that walking around this neighbourhood I feel alot safer than where i lived in barcelona.

The begining: 06.04.04

2004-04-09T10:47:00.000-05:00

At last my journey begins. or at least the documentation of its next chapter. Its a mixture of emotions finally getting away. Takeoff is always a release, setting it all in motion and leaving deliberations grounded in the departure lounge. Normally when travelling i expect nothing and go with the express intention to make no plans which (although a plan of sorts in itself) leaves all unknown, an adventure free of expectations. This time it is different. My point of departure on this trip is not travel but work and as my first of such experiences there is excitement loaded with uncertainty and apprehension, great expectations loaded with the inevitable streak of doubts that accompany new things. Indeed, never before have I done a job that I feel strongly about or for a reason other than the money.

I am on my way to Cali in South Western Colombia to work with the combative municipal workers union of the city (SINTRAEMCALI), a bastion of organised resistance, and positive action amid a nation savaged by violence and oppression for the protection of private interests. Colombia could be viewed the front-line in the fight between a savage brand of capitalism, neoliberalism, in one of its most extreme forms and the interests of civil society. It is also a front line in an terrifyingly Orwellian battle between truth and deception. A country as wealthy in newspeak pretexts as it is natural resources. A ‘democracy’ fighting a ‘war on drugs’ ‘aided’ by trading ‘partners’ and protected from national ‘’terrorists’’ by the “self defence forces’’ (AUC) of Colombia.

But in a democracy where voting can be an act of suicide if against your oppressor, where a terrorist can be a school teacher, community activist or student, where a war is fought to displace people to make way for the extraction of natural resources by multinational companies while trade in drugs continues destabilising the country and funding those who claim to protect its people some change is necessary.

That's not to say im going to be able to do anything about it. I may well just become disillusioned, have nothing to offer, after all I haven't even finished my degree yet, im just a middle class student who’ll probably be unable to take the pressure of a real struggle coming from a comparatively sheltered life in a rich nation, or ill simply hate it. all these are unknown but more importantly unknowable until tried and it would be crazy for them to hold me back. I have long been impassioned by politics, incensed by injustice and frustrated by apathy including my my own. Bullshit particularly from those in authority has always got under my skin like an itchy rash, inflamed when I see others believe it. I know that I cannot make a visible effect personally but feel a duty to myself in light of what i see do something. or at least to go and see if there is hope, if this is really something i want to devote my life to as i have dreamed. as such it becomes apparent why this trip is more than a job, or an adventure and why I chose to come here of all places. This will be an account of how it goes, a mixture of diary and commentary, of what I see is happening and my thoughts and feelings.

At the newsagent in no mans land interim departure lounge miami as i waited for my delayed flight I got talking to the Nicaraguan and Dominican checkout boys. To my dismay they were both virulent supporters of the brutal Colombian president Alvaro Uribe Velez and as for their stance on Castro and Chavez - “Nuke the bastards!”. Naturally some heated debate ensued but these boys were not for turning. I suddenly felt like an idealistic middle class student (which of course I am) sadly misguided into a hopeless fight for ‘the people’ who were not interested. One of the lads was collecting foreign coins with the intention of covering the interior of his car with them. I reminded myself that Miami is a special case.

My flight arrived two hours late in Bogota and I stepped out into the sea of expectant faces awaiting relatives on their return from babylon. Near the end of the crowd were a tired looking couple in their 40s holding a hand-written sign with my name written in capitals with a red biro. I introduced myself to Ricardo, Christina and we got into a taxi. Almost as soon as we were moving Ricardo was talking about the armed conflict with a sincerity and solemn compassion that was humbling and in my tired state left me almost speechless. We arrived at their home and they paid the taxi fare. The downstairs comprised of two almost bare rooms with clinical tile floors like that of an old hospital. in one room there stood two desks and an embattled computer with a phone and a sick typewriter on the floor. in the other room was a small dinning table, some garden chairs and a beaten up coffee machine like that of the waiting room of a dentist surgery on the outskirts of town. The walls wore the posters of political prisoners, the disappeared and past demonstrations. They welcomed me to the headquarters of the Union of University Workers in Bogota, SINTRAUNICOL. I was shown to my room, a bare box housing two bunkbeds with a lino floor and makeshift curtain covering the barred windows. There was no hot water.